1. Sully #2
Theo frowned. “How do I fit into this?”
“I might have stolen your shirt for the purpose of my mission. It was called ‘Make Noah Jealous Enough That He Gets His Head Out Of His Ass.’”
Theo stared at me, bewildered. “You stole my shirt?”
“If I’d known all I had to do was wear his brother’s clothes around the apartment to get his attention, I probably would have tried that a lot earlier,” Gemma laughed.
“Us London men are simple creatures, Gemma,” I said with a regretful nod.
Her eyes narrowed as she looked between the three of us. “I’m not totally sure that’s true.”
“You’re right,” I said. “Blake is very complex.”
I hooked a thumb over my shoulder to where I’d noticed my oldest brother running in circles after the dog. Chloe was on his back, her laughter filling the air.
All shit-talking aside, a pang of emotion hit me square in the chest. It wasn’t often that we all got to be in the same place at the same time, with half of us living in Minnesota and the other out here on the East Coast. My parents weren’t here yet because they’d taken a later flight, but they would be soon.
And Natalie, too; she was able to take off from her Very Important Job as a trauma surgeon.
Noah snorted, and Gemma laughed, though her attention fixed on Theo instead of Blake. “I’m sorry. We still have the shirt, if you want it back.”
“Nah, we definitely don’t have it,” Noah grunted, raking a hand through his hair and then placing it around Gemma’s shoulders.
She looked back at him, her curtain of ginger hair falling down her back. “We don’t?”
“No.” Noah made an incredulous face, like he couldn’t fathom the idea. “I sent that shit back to Mom. I know Sully got it from her house.”
“You’re not wrong,” I said. “Anyway, so glad we could make this thing a reality. Go, team!”
I put my hand up for a high five, and though Noah shook his head, a smile was plastered to his face as he slapped my palm.
“You’re fucking ridiculous, but I love you,” he said.
“Love you, too, man. We’re gonna go raid your beer selection now.”
“Thank God,” Theo said beneath his breath. “I could use a drink. The traffic getting here was a nightmare, and this guy wouldn’t stop playing ‘I’m Shipping Up to Boston’ on repeat.”
He shot a glare at me, and I shrugged. “Seemed fitting. And you know listening to songs on repeat soothes my anxiety.”
“That is the least soothing song,” Theo deadpanned. “And you know it.”
Noah clapped Theo on the back with a laugh, still grinning like he couldn’t get himself to stop. “Help yourself to as many beers as you need to recover from the journey. Thanks for coming, guys. Seriously.”
“Of course, man,” I said, flashing him a smile back. “We’re fucking stoked for both of you. Congrats again.”
I gave Gemma one more hug before Theo and I wandered away, stopping to grab some drinks and food before saying hi to Chloe, who we learned had been dropped off by my sister’s ex-husband.
Blake said Natalie should be here soon, which was good to hear.
It had been a while since I’d seen my sister, who was historically the hardest person in the family to plan something with, not that it was her fault.
Single momming, saving lives, all that good stuff—it kept her busy.
We gravitated toward a makeshift DJ booth, where some of Noah’s college friends lingered, and I was just begging them to play a little “London Bridge,” Noah’s favorite song (absolute least favorite song in the entire world) and explaining why Theo and I were ultimately responsible for this joyous union, when I heard it.
When I heard her.
“Not every event is about you, Sullivan,” she said, but the words didn’t matter.
My heart skittered in a way that couldn’t be healthy, and I jerked my head toward the sound of her voice, like she still had complete and utter control over my body, like my synapses didn’t understand that we weren’t that anymore.
And then we were face-to-face, and I couldn’t breathe.
I registered Natalie out of the corner of my eye. Which made sense, otherwise I would have slightly suspected I was seeing things. Seeing ghosts.
Well, just one—a beautiful, maddeningly perfect little ghost.
If my sister weren’t here, I’d assume her best friend was a figment of my imagination because Lord knows I’d imagined her for years on end.
I imagined her voice, quipping back at something I’d said.
My skin constantly tickled, as though I could still feel her soft black hair threaded through my fingers.
The image of her pale skin contrasting with the red of my bedsheets and the stain of her blush remained unmoving in a corner of my mind.
Her smile haunted me, the way it quirked to one side, like we were sharing an inside joke.
Because we were—we always were, ever since we were kids who didn’t know how monumental it was to be able to read another person’s mind, who didn’t realize connections like ours didn’t just happen.
But we did.
We happened.
And then we pretended that we didn’t.
She breezed past me without a second glance, a wave of her cherry blossom perfume hitting me square in the chest, so strong and familiar and unchanged it might be lethal.
I’d officially been gutted and left for dead.
I stared at her retreating form, her slight figure, her familiar gait.
I watched her walk away, wearing a dress that I’d taken off her before.
It was a deep red color that matched the blush on her cheeks, with little straps that, once upon a time, I’d pulled down over her shoulders.
One and then the other, until it pooled at her feet.
And then she’d stared up at me with those soulful brown eyes, naked and trembling with want.
That was how I felt.
Stripped naked.
Trembling with want for something I couldn’t have while standing in my brother’s backyard, surrounded by it.
I hated every second that passed.
How was it possible? That she could wear the same dresses and blush the same way and smell intoxicatingly the same, and yet be someone I almost didn’t recognize?
And more importantly, how the hell was I supposed to celebrate my brother’s engagement while reeling from the appearance of the one and only woman I’d ever thought I’d marry?
I hadn’t known she was going to be here, not consciously.
But now I was wondering if maybe my body had, deep in its fibers.
That was where Ellie existed, anyway—somewhere deep inside me.
And I was starting to suspect that the anxiety of hurtling across the sky in a metal tube had likely just been a cover-up for the real cause of the deep-seated disquiet.
Theo was worried he couldn’t even mention Ellie Summers’ name without mortally wounding me, but tonight, I had to survive hours of breathing the same air as her, pretending it wasn’t poisoning all the progress I’d made since she left me.
It had been five years—five years of trying to get over her.
And a single glimpse of Eleanor Summers had me falling back to square one.