Chapter 2
Chapter two
Oliver
One second she’s standing in front of me, green eyes wide and wary, the next she’s slipping through the crowd like smoke, leaving me holding nothing but the echo of her refusal.
I don’t think that’s a good idea.
Months of replaying every second of that Halloween night, of telling myself I did the right thing by disappearing before dawn, and she shuts me down in under ten seconds.
I drag a hand over my face and try to breathe past the sudden weight in my chest.
I deserve it. I know I do.
I left her in that hotel suite without so much as a note. Just a single text sent from the back of a town car on the way to the airport. Emergency in Singapore. I’m sorry.
I was sorry, I am sorry, but I was also panicking.
That night had started as a fun night out. Ellie begged me to come to the masquerade because “it won’t be the same without you.” Savannah laughed in a red cape and plastic fangs, daring me to dance with her while “Thriller” blasted through the ballroom.
One dance became three. Three dances became shots of tequila in the VIP lounge. Tequila became her mouth on mine, her back against velvet wallpaper, her legs wrapped around my waist while I forgot every rule I’d ever made about not touching my little sister’s best friend.
I told myself it was the alcohol, but I knew the truth the second I woke up tangled in sheets that smelled like her and felt something in my chest crack wide open.
So when my phone lit up with the Singapore crisis at 4:17 a.m., part of me was relieved. A clean exit. A way to pretend the night hadn’t rewritten every plan I had for my life.
I took it, and I ran. Now I’m back, and she can’t even stand to look at me.
I down the rest of my whiskey in one swallow and head for the bar. Another drink won’t fix this, but it’ll buy me five minutes before I have to smile for relatives who want to know why I’m not married yet.
Ellie finds me before I make it halfway across the room.
“There you are!” She throws her arms around my neck, smelling like vanilla and champagne. “Mom’s been asking where you disappeared to. Also, did you see Savannah? She’s here somewhere. You guys should catch up.”
My grip tightens on the empty glass. “We already did.”
Ellie pulls back, eyes narrowing. “And?”
“And she wasn’t exactly thrilled to see me.”
My sister tilts her head, studying me the way she’s done since we were kids, and she knew I was hiding report cards in the cereal cabinet.
“What did you do?” she asks, point-blank.
I open my mouth. Close it. I’m not really in the mood to have Ellie murder me, and she would if she knew I’d hurt her best friend.
“Nothing,” I lie.
“Liar.” She pokes me in the chest. “Fix it. Whatever it is. Savannah’s family.”
Family. Right.
Ellie kisses my cheek and bounces off toward a group of cousins, leaving me alone with the noise and the lights and the memory of Savannah’s face when she said no.
I’m not giving up.
I spent ten weeks telling myself distance would kill whatever this is. It didn’t. If anything, it made it worse. Every city I landed in, every hotel bed that wasn’t the one she’d been in, every morning I woke up reaching for someone who wasn’t there was proof that walking away didn’t fix anything.
I set the empty tumbler on a passing tray and resume moving. Not toward the bar this time. Toward the hallway that leads to the library. She used to hide there when these parties got too loud, curled up in Dad’s old leather chair with a book and a stolen plate of cookies.
I don’t expect her to be there now, but I have to check.
The library door is cracked open, firelight flickering across the rows of books. I push it wider. Savannah’s standing by the window, arms wrapped around herself, staring out at the snow that’s just started to fall.
For a second, I can’t move. She looks so beautiful, hair spilling down her back, the curve of her neck making my hands ache with muscle memory.
She hears me anyway. Her shoulders stiffen, and she doesn’t turn around. “I’m not great company tonight,” she says to the glass.
“I don’t need great company. I need you to talk to me.”
She laughs, but it’s brittle. “You didn’t want to talk in October.”
The words hit like a slap. I step closer.
“I was an idiot in October. I’m not now.”
“Congratulations on your personal growth.”
“Savannah.” I stop just behind her, close enough to see the reflection of her eyes in the window.
They’re bright with unshed tears. “I’m sorry.
I woke up that morning and panicked. I’d spent years pretending I didn’t want you, and then one night, I blew that all to hell. I didn’t know how to handle it.”
She finally turns. The firelight catches on her cheekbones, the tight line of her mouth.
“So you left.”
“I left,” I admit. “And I’ve regretted it every single day since.”
Her gaze searches my face like she’s looking for the lie. She won’t find it.
“Dinner tomorrow,” I say again, softer this time. “One hour. If you still want me to disappear after that, I will. I swear.”
She stares at me for a long moment. Snow taps against the window behind her. I can hear my own heartbeat.
“I’ll think about it,” she says at last.
It’s not yes, but it’s not no either.
It’s enough.
I nod once and step back before I do something stupid like pull her into my arms right here, where anyone could walk in.
“Tomorrow,” I repeat.
She doesn’t answer, turns back to the window, arms tight around her middle again.
I leave her there, but I’m not giving up. Not tonight. Not ever.