Zoe POV

Consciousness returns slowly, like surfacing from deep water.

My eyelids feel heavy, weighted down by exhaustion that seems to have seeped into my bones. When I finally manage to force them open, the first thing I see is the familiar ceiling of my hotel room—the soft cream color, the gentle curve of the crown molding, the subtle shadow cast by the bedside lamp.

I'm in my room. In my bed.

How did I get here?

The last thing I remember is the beach, ...