Page 36 of Unleashed By Eden

He starts to say something else, then seems to read the complete lack of invitation on my face and tuns his focus to the machine instead.

Good for him. Focus on the coffee, kid.

I take the two lidded cups and ride the elevator back up, grateful for the blast of cool AC when I open the door to my room.

The water is gone.

The painkillers are gone.

And so is Carter.

I let out a long breath. A “thank you” would have been nice. Not that I should expect anything from him. Feeling anything about that man—good, bad, or whatever—is a waste of time.

He ghosted out of my room the same way he ghosted out of my life over ten years ago. Well, at least it’s on brand.

I set the coffees down, peel the curtains back and let daylight flood in, then strip out of my clothes and head for the shower. It’s quick and frantic, more of a rinse than a reset.

Steam spills out of the bathroom when I step back into the room. I tap my phone on the nightstand, screen flaring to life so I can check the time.

Six forty-five.

Fucking fantastic.

I’m supposed to be at the airport at seven.

Right on cue, my phone buzzes. I towel my hand dry and open the message.

Megan: Where are you? We’re leaving in two minutes.

“Shit.”

I dress at speed, tugging on jeans, a clean tee and sneakers, and stuff the last of my toiletries into my backpack with wet hair dripping down my back. Two coffees in one hand, my suitcase handle in the other, bag over my shoulder, I bolt for the door.

By the time I hit the rear entrance of the hotel, Megan is already there, arms crossed, leaning against a black SUV.

“The guys left ten minutes ago,” she says. No hello. “I don’t care what you do in your personal time. If you stay up all night shagging or partying, that’s your business. But you will be on time in the morning. This isn’t negotiable. Got it?”

“Got it,” I say. “It won’t happen again.”

Her eyes drop to the two coffees stacked in my hand. I swallow a sigh and offer the top one to her. She hesitates, then takes it with a tight, reluctant nod. “Make sure it doesn’t,” she says, bringing the cup to her mouth.

She opens the back door and I slide in while the driver loads my suitcase. As soon as the door shuts and we pull away from the curb, Megan is back on her phone, thumbs flying.

I turn my head to the window and watch Singapore slide past. I’m glad I got to wander a little, although it already feels like a blur.

My phone vibrates in my backpack. I dig it out. Forty percent battery.

Fucker.

I unlock it and pause at the contact name glowing at the top of the notification bar.

GOD.

For fuck’s sake.

I open the thread.

GOD