Chapter Seven #4
Echo’s sitting on the edge of the bed, hair mussed, and her mouth swollen from kissing.
And Thorne is already pulling away.
I know before he even reaches for his shirt that he’s about to bolt.
“Hey,” I say quietly, but he doesn’t even look at me.
“I should go.”
Echo’s expression shifts, that usual amused softness fading into something more knowing. “Thorne.”
“I’m fine.”
It’s clear to both Echo and I that he’s very obviously not fucking fine.
He drags a hand through his hair and finds his shoes, his movements jerky, like if he slows down for even a second he might have to actually feel what just happened.
I step closer. “You don’t have to run.”
That gets me a flash of eye contact. Bright and stripped, but gone too quick.
“I’m not running, mate.” His jaw ticks. “It’s late, innit? And in case you forgot Andre expects us in early, and I’m not trying to get my head chewed off before ten.”
That’s not the reason and we both know it.
Still, I don’t push. I want to. God, I fucking want to. But I can feel how frayed he is, and there’s a difference between asking somebody to be honest and yanking them open before they’re ready.
So I let him go.
He slips out the door with tension pulled tight through every line of him, and the silence he leaves behind feels so goddamn loud.
For a second I just stare at the closed door.
Then Echo says, softly, “Don’t chase him.”
I look back at her.
She’s dressed now, swallowed up in an oversized tee, her dark hair pulled up into a messy top knot like she threw it up in a hurry. The sight of her like that, rumpled, warm, still a little wrecked around the edges, is somehow calming.
“Wasn’t going to.”
She lifts a brow.
I exhale and drag a hand over the back of my neck. “All right. I was thinking about it.”
“I know, but you can’t.”
There’s no judgment in her tone, just certainty.
I lean back against the wall and drag a hand over my jaw. “Fuck. I knew this would happen.”
“Yeah, but you can’t expect him to just accept it all and be okay with it after one night.” She tucks one leg under herself on the bed. “He’ll come around when he’s ready. You just have to be patient with him.”
I look toward the door again. I want to believe her.
Echo watches me like she can tell exactly where my head just went.
“He likes you,” she says.
A laugh leaves me before I mean it to. “Yeah, but is that enough?”
“After what I saw tonight. The pull you two have. The chemistry he’s denying. Yeah, I’d say it’s more than enough.”
I tip my head back against the wall. “Maybe, but liking me and being ready for me aren’t the same thing.”
“No,” she says. “Sadly, they’re not.”
The room settles around us.
The AC hums. A car door slams somewhere out in the lot. Someone laughs from the walkway outside and keeps moving.
Echo reaches for her phone, then pauses. “Alright, give me your number.”
I smile. “You think you’re that smooth, huh?”
“Oh please. I’ve more than earned it.”
Fair point.
I take her phone, thumb brushing hers for a second as she hands it over, and type my number in myself. When I pass it back, there’s a Cowboy hat emoji beside my name that makes me laugh under my breath.
“Very funny.”
“I thought so.”
I glance around the room again, disliking it just as much as I did when we first pulled in. “Are you sure you’re good here tonight? I have a spare room at my place that doesn’t have questionable carpet stains?”
Her expression shutters for half a second.
Then she smiles. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“All right.”
She stands, oversized tee hanging off one shoulder, hair still twisted up into that messy top knot. “Don’t brood too hard, Cowboy.”
A laugh slips out of me. “I’m not fucking brooding.”
“Oh you absolutely are.”
I grin. “Alright, maybe a little.”
Her expression softens then, just slightly. “He will come around.”
There’s something in the way she says it that makes me believe she’s not just talking about tonight.
I nod once. “All right.”
She lifts her hand in a little wave. “Text me when you get home. My turn to make sure you get home in one piece,”
That catches me off guard in the best way.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She laughs, shakes her head, then steps back as I open the door.
“Night, Wolfe.”
“Night, Echo.”
I step out into the humid dark, and a second later I hear the soft click of the lock behind me.
The motel walkway buzzes under that weird pink light, the air thick and damp against my skin as I head down the stairs and back toward my bike. Everything feels too still now. Like the whole night’s holding its breath with me.
I swing a leg over, sit there for a second, and stare out at the empty lot.
It’s not the sex stuck in my head. It’s the way Thorne kissed me like he’d been holding it back for a long goddamn time.
It’s the look on his face after, all bright panic and too much feeling and the fact that for a few minutes in that room, he stopped pretending.
I start the engine, the growl of it cutting through the quiet.
Because the truth is, I’m done with things that only live halfway.
And whether Thorne’s ready to admit it or not, I know he is too.