(Nicky POV)
He woke up with a throbbing head, an empty bottle dangling from his hand, the shrill ringing dragging him back to consciousness.
The room smelled of stale liquor and regret.
Outside the window the sun was already slipping down the sky, bleeding orange into the horizon, but he didn't care.
He looked at the phone on the floor.
Eliana.
He answered, voice low. "El."
Her tone was calm, careful. "Where are you?"
"I just… I'm in the hotel."
"Are you coming back? We need to talk."
His throat closed. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to tell her he was on his way.
"Maybe we need time apart… space to think," he muttered. "I don't think talking right now will solve anything."
The silence on the line snapped sharp.
"Space?" she repeated, voice breaking. "You walked out on me for a day and that's your answer? More space?"
