***
~~FINN~~
***
Delilah is panting and bouncing on top of me, her manicured hands braced on my chest. She throws her head back like she’s in the middle of some kind of religious experience, but all I feel is the weight of her—skin against skin, motion without meaning.
My mind is elsewhere.
I’m not even in the room.
I’m in Asheville.
Still in that damn house.
Still stuck in the moment Sloane slammed the car door and refused to look back at me.
I try to focus—on Delilah’s hands on my chest, on the way she gasps my name—but every time I close my eyes, I see Sloane. Her expression blank, her silence louder than any goodbye she could’ve given me.
She’s not answering my texts. Not my calls. It’s been over forty-eight hours, and all I’ve gotten is radio silence. My father had practical
