Chapter 37

**G R A C E**

The first thing I notice when I open my eyes is the darkness—a thick, heavy kind of dark. I blink a few times, trying to remember where I am, what’s going on. The bed beneath me feels strange, unfamiliar, but comfortable in a way that makes me sink into it. My head is fuzzy, and for a minute, everything around me feels distant, like I’m in a dream I can’t wake up from. I can’t make sense of anything.

Was any of this real?

Maybe… maybe I imagined it all. Italy, the skinny dipping, the way the cold water shocked my system, and when he did. Did Alex even exist? His hands, his stare, Matt, that red dress… all of it feels so far away, like a movie I watched years ago. Maybe none of it happened at all.

But instead of relief, there’s just this weird emptiness gnawing at me. I move, trying to sit up, and— Ow!

A sharp pain shoots through my leg. Reality slams back, hard, bringing it all with it—the store, the cut, Matt, the hidden market. And... the guns. Oh my God, that was real too?

It’s all real, and it’s terrifyingly close.

I grit my teeth and swing my legs over the side of the bed, bracing myself for the pain. The floor is cold beneath my feet, and next to the bed, I spot a pair of slippers. I slip them on, and when I stand, my whole body aches like I’ve been out for days, not hours. I stretch, feeling the soreness settle into my bones.

That’s when I see it.

The phone. The one I threw away in that alley. Alex’s phone—broken, of course—sits right there on the nightstand. Next to it is a small note, folded neatly in half.

We need to talk.

I stare at it, knowing. Even though I’ve never seen his handwriting, I know it’s from him.

Alex.

Alex who held a gun at Matt’s forehead.

A lump forms in my throat as I crumple the note in my hand and toss it, along with the phone, into the trash. But something gnaws at me, some stupid, irrational part of me that refuses to let go. After a moment, I find myself fishing the phone out and placing it back on the nightstand.

I stand there, trying to shake the fog in my head, and move toward the window. Pulling the curtains aside, I’m greeted by the most breathtaking sight I’ve ever seen. The sky is painted in soft shades of purple, pink, and orange—the first signs of dawn. It’s that magical moment before sunrise, where the world is still wrapped in quiet darkness, but the light is just about to break through. Birds are beginning to stir, the world waking up.

And with the light, I remember.

I’m in Alex’s room.

It’s undeniable now. His presence is everywhere—in the clean, minimalist lines of the room, in the cool tones that mix with something… softer. Something that feels like me, blending into his space. It’s unsettling.

I look down at myself and my heart skips. I’m not wearing what I had on at the store. The sundress Matt got me is gone, replaced by an oversized white cotton shirt that smells distinctly familiar—expensive, masculine, intoxicating. My hands tremble as I touch the soft fabric, and then I look further down at my leg.

My eyes drift to my feet, and that’s when I notice the bandages. The ones Matt put on me are gone. It’s fresh, clean, and neatly wrapped, no longer blood-stained and hastily done like before.

Someone took care of me.

No, he took care of me. There’s no denying it now. I can almost feel his hands on me again. His touch, firm and deliberate, taking my leg in his lap, unwrapping the old bandage slowly, like he’s savoring the moment. His fingers brush my skin, caressing it gently before he cleans the wound, his touch lingering just a little longer than necessary.

I close my eyes and it’s as if I’m reliving it—the slow, methodical way he cleaned the cut, the way his fingers traced the edges of the wound with a tenderness that both confuses and frightens me. Then, the cool sting of antiseptic, his breath steady, and the sensation of him carefully applying a fresh bandage, wrapping it with precision.

Why do I feel like I can still sense his hands on me, like he’s still in the room with me?

I shiver, feeling uneasy in this space. His space. I need to shake off this feeling, his memory, his touch.

Without thinking, I head downstairs, desperate to escape the weight of his presence.

The private pool calls to me the moment I see it, sparkling and calm in the early light. It’s the only one on the island if I remember correctly, the only other pool is at the mansion and it’s public. This one is private, his. I step outside in the backyard of ALex’s beach house that he gave to me the other morning, the cool air hitting my skin, and I don’t even hesitate. The shirt clings to me as I slip into the water, the sensation of the silk-like fabric growing heavier with each step deeper into the pool.

The water is cool, refreshing, and for the first time in what feels like days, I breathe. Really breathe. I dunk under, letting the water engulf me, wrapping around me like a cocoon. For a brief moment, the world disappears, and it’s just me and the water, everything else fading away.

But then, just as I resurface, I hear it.

Footsteps.

Someone’s inside the house.

I freeze, the cold bite of fear creeping up my spine. Slowly, I lower myself back into the water, hiding beneath the surface, eyes just above the edge of the pool. My heart races as I wait, breath shallow.