The Storm (Us #2)

56. Nick

FIFTY-SIX

NICK

When I wake up, my bed is empty. I listen for sounds coming from anywhere in the apartment, but there’s nothing.

“Blue?”

Nothing.

I stare at the ceiling, images of the last twenty-four hours rushing through my brain. A film reel of moments of him and me.

In hindsight, it was never a question of whether we would break. It was always a question of when.

I blow out a breath and scrub my hands over my face.

Is it possible to never be over somebody?

Even grief lessens over time, but my obsession with Blue is as strong as the first moment I laid eyes on him.

He’s my siren song.

His presence lingers all around me. My bed smells like him.

It won’t be the last time.

I already know.