Page 101 of Without a Trace
Now I still didn’t know who the hell I was supposed to pick.
I sank into the oversized tub, knees pulled to my chest, the water up to my chin.
Maybe I wasn’t meant to choose at all.
Maybe I was always just the girl standing in the middle, pretending the fire couldn’t reach me.
But it did.
It burned through everything.
And I didn’t know how to stop wanting it.
I rested my head back and stared at the ceiling. My skin still tingled where Trace had looked at me—like his gaze had imprinted itself, scorched a memory onto my spine.
They all lied.Not just about feelings. About everything.Every glance. Every touch. Every word they didn’t say.
No more excuses. No more waiting for them to come clean.
I was going to get to the bottom of it.Whatever they were hiding—whatever truth they buried beneath tattoos and firelight and broken promises—I was going to find it.
Even if it shattered everything.
“Fuck your secrets,” I whispered into the steam.Let them burn too.
***
I curled up in the bed, the sound of waves licking at the villa walls, my hair still damp from the bath. My brain still spinning from Trace.
I wasn’t ready to sleep. Wasn’t ready to think too hard either.
So I grabbed my phone and pulled up the group chat:Chaos Club™— Sloane, Lena, and me.
I stared at the screen for a second.
SCARLETT:
Alive. Mostly.
Kinda miss you. Kinda wanna scream into the sea.
Hemingway still being dramatic?
A minute passed.
Then two.
Then my phone lit up like they’d both been waiting.
LENA:
HE MISSES YOU. He stared at the door for like an hour. I cried. He farted. It was a moment.
SLOANE:
You better not die.
If you do, I’m not adopting your pug. He smells like beef.
