Page 36 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

We’re going to win,I tell myself.

I’ll keep saying it until I believe it, too.

10

KATRINA

Iunlock my front door and pause, inhaling deeply before pushing it open.

It’s good to be home.

After three months on the road with the band, countless nights in hotel rooms, sleeping in rented beds or stiff bunks on the tour bus, I finally step into my townhouse.

My little sanctuary.

A simple two-bedroom place—one upstairs in the loft, one downstairs—with an adorable kitchen straight out of a magazine. Nestled between the city and the suburbs, it’s the perfect quiet hideaway from the neon glow of The Strip.

As I step into the anteroom and kick off my shoes, my gaze lands on the shoebox sitting on the table by the door. It’s stuffed full of summer’s worth of letters, magazines, and takeout menus. Everything Derrick gathered from my porch and mailbox. Beside it, a new vase overflows with fresh summer flowers, a crisp note propped against the glass:Welcome home!

I smile. Ira and Veronica really hit the jackpot with that nanny. I lean in, inhaling the delicate floral scent, already making a mental note to send him a little extra cash for the trouble. Not that he’d accept it.

As much as I’d love to sink into my couch and do nothing, I take out my phone. A tap of my thumb, and my Weekly Reset playlist kicks on through the Bluetooth speakers wired throughout the house—a ritual I haven’t indulged in since before the tour.

I swap my clothes for a pair of shorts and a tank top, pull my hair back, and slide on a pair of cleaning gloves. Music pulses through the house, wrapping around me as I move from room to room, a microfiber cloth in one hand, all-purpose cleaner in the other.

With every swipe and spray, I breathe a little easier. The stale air of an empty house lifts. My limbs loosen. I sing along, twirling through doorways, opening windows, throwing open the patio doors to let the breeze sweep in. The weight of the summer, the exhaustion, the long hours—they all melt away. The memories of the last few nights blur at the edges. Never gone, never forgotten. But at least, for the moment, they don’t consume me.

Not until I dust off the picture frames above my mantle.

Knox and I, backstage at the Sin and Sand, the night of our first piano battle. Jonah took that photo, so he’s not in it. But I remember him standing right in front of us, phone raised high, grinning widely as he captured the moment.

He’s in the next one, though. Me, Knox, and Jonah at a casino. The first and last time I ever gambled.

Then, another photo. Me and Addison, lounging by the hotel pool in Miami, seconds away from disaster. She’s stretched out in her skimpy two-piece, me in my one-piece and skirt. And in the background, caught midair, is Jonah—poised to cannonball straight into the water, ready to drench us both.

I sigh, the memories pressing in, vivid as ever. Jonah’s hands on my shoulders, guiding me back. The regret in his eyes when he realized a kiss is never just a kiss. The happiness in his voice when he said,I do.

Then—

Lights flicker, shadows dance,

Heartbeats hammer, take your chance.

Feel the fire, hear the roar,

This is the moment we’ve been fighting for!

Logan Shock’s voice surges through my house, and something tugs hard at the tether in my chest.

I blink, stepping back from the mantle, my mind scrambling for an explanation. I know I didn’t addIgnite the Nightto my cleaning playlist. Or any playlist.

And yet, here it plays.

I find my phone, the screen glowing with an app notification.Based on your interest, we think you’ll like this, too!

Of course. I forgot to enable looping mode. The playlist ended, and the app took liberties, auto-playing songs itassumedI’d enjoy.

Logan coos in my ear as my thumb hovers over the Next Song button.

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