16. Reyna
CHAPTER 16
Forever and a day.
I haven’t been able to get Michael out of my head. Especially since that evening on my porch. And being in Boston with him hasn’t been any easier. We’ve been here for two days now, setting everything up, and he’s been more quiet than normal but still stepping up and helping as needed.
All of them have truly been great, but Michael has gone above and beyond in helping me pull this thing off. Which I’m more appreciative of than I can even admit given how hesitant he was to let me come in the first place.
I’ve been trying to find a way to tell him that I read his letters. That seeing the words on the page did make me connect with the mindset he’d been in when he left. But I’m not sure how to do it without bringing up the pain of our past.
He’s in the living room of the hotel suite right now, alongside Elijah, Jaxson, and Lance as they prepare for the banquet. Then, tomorrow morning, we get to go home. There’s been no contact from my attacker, no action on my house since I’ve been gone, and I’m truly starting to wonder if he hasn’t simply moved on.
Maybe he left town because he realized he was going to get caught sooner or later. I apply a smooth line of lipstick over my mouth then stand back and study myself in the mirror. I’ve never been one for makeup, so I opted for a bit of color on my cheeks and some pale lipstick rather than a full face.
The gown I’m wearing fits perfectly, and I’m beyond grateful Margot came over and helped me pick it out before we left Hope Springs. Even if she’d given me trouble over calling this banquet evening a date with her brother.
Especially since I’d had him in mind when I’d chosen this particular color. Green is his favorite.
Someone knocks on the door. “Come in.” I don’t bother to turn because chances are it’s Lance checking in on me once again, letting me know the security team has swept the event area, and ensuring no one is in and out who isn’t supposed to be there.
It’s the tightest security we’ve ever run. I can only hope no one else notices and suspects that something is wrong.
“You look?—”
I turn now, my heart hammering as I face off with Michael. He looks absolutely gorgeous in a tuxedo, his dark hair styled. And I suddenly feel very, very vulnerable in my dress. Though based on the way he’s looking at me, it was a good choice.
“Are we leaving?” I ask, not letting him finish his sentence.
Boundaries.
That’s what we need.
“Yes,” he replies. “Lance, Elijah, and Jaxson already headed out. So we’ll be a bit behind them. Which Lance felt was better for optics. Given that I’m technically supposed to look like your date tonight.” He’s uncomfortable, which I can appreciate, because so am I.
Mainly because even though I know it’s not good, I want this to be an actual date. Not just look like one.
Gathering the skirt of my gown, I head toward the door, then follow him out of the room and down the hall to the elevators. He presses the button and we stand in silence as we wait for the doors to open.
The drive over to the event is short, maybe five minutes, but we do it in complete silence. In fact, it’s not until he’s opening the door for me at the valet that Michael even begins to look like he’s having a good time.
Even though I know it’s a mistake, I link my arm through his, smiling widely at everyone as we pass. I wave with my free hand, offer greetings, and head into the ballroom with Michael at my side. Even with my heels on, he towers over me, drawing more than a few curious glances.
Which, of course, sparks irrational jealousy.
“Can you hear me?” he asks carefully. I know he’s not talking to me, but rather to the guys via the earbud I’d seen him slip in right as we’d arrived. “Great. Let me know if that changes.” His hand goes to my mid-back, and he leans in. I have to fight the urge to lean into him farther as he whispers, “We’re all good right now.”
Before I can respond, a beautiful woman rushes through the crowd, a wide smile on her face. “You’re here!” Emily greets. I barely have enough time to get my arm free of Michael’s before she’s wrapping me in a hug. “And looking absolutely amazing!” She holds me at arm’s length and studies me.
I do the same, appreciating the lavender gown she wears and the way it complements her coloring.
“And who is this tall drink of water?” she asks, looking up at Michael.
“Michael. My—uh—date.”
“Wait—Michael from high school, Michael?” she asks, arching a brow at me.
Why? Why did I not warn her ahead of time? “One and the same,” I tell her, trying to keep my tone casual.
“Wow. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Michael. I’m Emily. Are there more of you?” She offers him her hand, and he takes it.
“More of me?”
“Tall, handsome, muscled men? Because as it happens, I’m in the market for a long-lasting relationship, and so far, I’ve had terrible luck.”
“Emily!” I half scold, even as I can’t keep the grin off my face. This is one of the reasons I adore her. Straight to the point. Always.
Michael laughs. “Nice to meet you too. While I do have a single friend, he’s not much in the mood for dating these days,” he replies. “Did you help with this event?” He looks around the room and I long to ask him what he thinks. Will he be impressed by what we’ve done? Bored?
“Shame. Have him let me know if that changes.” She winks. “As for helping, I did, but our girl here organizes it. All I do is make sure the pieces are in the right place since I’m local.” She beams at me. “There are quite a few people who want to meet you.” She takes my hand and tugs me along, but I can’t keep myself from looking back to make sure Michael is with me.
His gaze meets mine, and my stomach flutters.
He’s finally agreed to leave me alone, and all I can think about is kissing him. How does that make sense?
I turn back around as Emily drags me across the floor, introducing me to people I won’t remember, though I should.
By the time I’ve done the rounds, I’m already exhausted.
“Here.” Michael offers me a mug of coffee, then guides me over to our table near the front. After scooting my chair in once I’ve sat down, he sits beside me. “This is amazing, Reyna. How long have you been hosting this?”
“This is the third year,” I tell him.
“It’s spectacular.” He looks around the room, clearly impressed, and it warms my heart to know he’s seeing all of the hard work I put into it.
“It does good work,” I tell him.
“Michael! There you are!” A woman with golden hair and a white dress that manages to be both form-fitting and modest at the same time rushes toward us. Michael stands, and she wraps her arms around him, then plants a kiss on his cheek.
“Hey, Sunny, I’m so glad you could make it.”
Jealousy sears me from the inside. Did he seriously invite a date here? Is that how badly he wants to hurt me?
“Sunny, this is Reyna Acker.”
I stand and offer her a smile and my hand when she reaches forward for it. “You organized this?”
“I did,” I reply.
“It’s amazing. So well run. And I—there he is! Over here, babe!”
A tall man steps through the crowd and offers her a glass of water. “Sorry, I got lost there for a minute.”
Sunny laughs. “This is my husband, Geoff. Honey, this is Reyna. The woman who organized this event.”
“This is amazing. Better than most of the red-carpet parties we’ve gone to.”
“Red carpet—” And then it clicks. Sunny Rune. “You’re an actress,” I blurt.
She laughs. “I am. Though apparently not a very good one.”
“What? No. Sorry. I don’t see many movies. But I know who you are.”
“I’m just toying with you,” Sunny says with another laugh. “Sorry, this is the first outing we’ve had since the baby, and I’m both excited and desperate to get home. But when Michael called and told us, we knew that we had to fly out and support such a great cause. Our son is back at the hotel with my mother-in-law.”
I look from her to Michael, feeling foolish that I thought he might have invited her as a date. “How do you all know each other?”
Geoff wraps an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “He works for us from time to time. Managed to save our son when a paparazzi tried to rip him from Sunny’s arms so he could get photographs of him before we were ready for anyone to know about the birth. Michael is our hero.”
“It was nothing.”
“It was everything,” Sunny replies, reaching out to touch his arm gently. “Don’t be modest.”
“She’s right,” Geoff adds. “Most bodyguards wouldn’t have chased the man through L.A. to get his phone and handle the pictures.”
“It was only a few blocks,” Michael replies with a laugh.
“Still. We’re eternally grateful,” Sunny says. “Now, how did you two meet?”
Michael looks at me, then back to her. “We’ve known each other since we were kids.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet! High school sweethearts?”
“Something like that,” Michael replies.
The music shifts, turning to a slow song, and Geoff takes his wife’s hand. “May I have this dance, my love?”
Sunny blushes. “Absolutely. Excuse us.”
“No problem. Have fun.” As they walk away, I try to keep myself from looking at Michael, but then his hand goes to the middle of my back again and I lose myself in the feeling of comfort.
“Want to dance?”
I look up at him. “I have about an hour before I need to speak. But, wait, are you sure that you still know how?”
Michael grins. A real, unguarded smile that steals my breath once more and turns my legs to jelly. “I’m even better now.” He tugs me onto the dance floor, one hand resting on the middle of my back, the other holding mine.
I snake my free arm around his neck and breathe through the nerves as we begin to move on the floor. The world around us fades away, leaving just him and me together, moving to the slow beat.
“Do you remember our senior prom?” Michael asks.
“A bit of it.” Truth is, I remember every single moment. From Michael slipping that corsage over my wrist to sharing stolen kisses on the dance floor and hoping the teachers didn’t see us.
Stupid teenagers who didn’t realize their entire lives were about to change.
“It was a good night.”
“It was.” A month later, he was gone. Right before the graduation we’d both been so excited for. And in the darkest moments of my pain, I’d recalled the way he’d looked down at me when we were dancing. The way the light cast shadows over his expression.
“You looked so beautiful in that dress. It was nearly the same shade of green as this one.”
“You remember what I was wearing?”
“I remember all of it,” Michael replies.
Our gazes hold, and the moment that passes between us feels so potent one could cut it with a knife. How did we get here, both of us so broken that it seems impossible we could fit back together? “I read your letters.”
Michael continues moving, though his expression darkens. “I thought you would have thrown them away."
"I tried to," I admit. “My mom pulled them out of the trash because she knew I’d want to read them one day. Even if I couldn’t admit to myself that I would.”
He chuckles. “Is it bad if part of me wishes she had left them in the trash?”
“I don’t.” My tone is serious, my gaze locked on his even as he turns me on the dance floor. “Michael, I’m sorry that I didn’t read them before. If I had?—”
“It’s okay, Reyna. I hurt you. I shouldn’t have expected you to write me back. Honestly, at some point, I knew you wouldn’t. But writing to you helped me feel less alone.”
The lump in my throat burns.
“Which, of course, wasn’t fair to you. I see that now.”
“You said that a part of you hoped you wouldn’t come home.”
“That part was there. For a long time.”
“And now?”
He pulls me in closer and leans down, whispering in my ear, “I am blessed to have come home, Reyna, because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be sharing this moment with you.”
My heart hammers, need surging through my veins. Even as I know it’s a bad idea, that it will likely lead to more pain, I want him to kiss me. Right here. Right now.
The music suddenly dies, and the room is plunged into darkness. It’s a bucket of cold water to my face as adrenaline surges through my system, making my movements jittery. My stomach twists into knots. Are they here? Did they find us? Or is it something totally explainable?
Everyone around begins to mutter, and Michael tugs me against him. “What was that?” I hear him ask. “Where?”
Phone lights begin to illuminate the dance floor, and Michael pushes me through the crowd, not bothering to pull his own out.
“Jaxson is guiding us,” he whispers to me.
I don’t speak, just let Michael lead me away from the dance floor. We reach the back room, and something slams into us. I fall to the side and the lights come back on right as Michael tackles a man wearing all black.
“Get back here!” Michael yells, and I can only hope the others can hear through his earpiece.
Through the doors and on the dance floor, the music comes back on, and people begin dancing again, unaware of the danger lurking just outside the doors.
“Reyna Acker.”
I turn at the mention of my name and find myself staring at a second masked man mere feet away from me. There are two of them now? Where did he come from?
“Get back onto the dance floor!” Michael orders.
I turn and rush forward, but the man is faster. He hits me like a linebacker, and I fall to the side, my head ringing where it impacts with the wall.
Michael slams his fist into the man who’d been going after him and launches himself at the man coming for me. The sickening crunch of bone fills my ears as he slams his fist into my attacker’s nose, then lunges for me and pulls me to my feet.
He sprints down the hall, taking me with him.
“They’re behind us,” he says. “Hurry!” He tugs me down the hall and toward an emergency exit. From their planning, I know Jaxson will have left a truck there just in case, keys inside the gas cap. We push through the door, letting it slam behind us, then close the distance between us and the vehicle.
A gunshot rings out, and Michael stumbles.
“No! Michael!” I scream.
He turns and snarls, a predatory growl leaving his lips as he faces off with a masked man holding a firearm. Michael rushes forward, and the man fires again, but he misses this time, and Michael takes him to the pavement.
My heart hammers as I search for a weapon of my own. For something, anything to protect Michael. He grips the man and lifts him, only to slam him back into the pavement. As soon as the man falls still, Michael gets to his feet and starts toward me. He falls forward, and I catch him before he can hit the ground, taking enough of his body weight that I can keep him on his feet.
“We need to get you to a hospital.” I guide him over to the truck. “Michael’s been shot!” I yell, hoping the guys can hear through the earpiece wherever they are. I open the passenger side door, and Michael climbs inside.
“Where are you hit?”
“Chest,” he chokes out.
“Oh no. Please, God, get us through this.” I slam his door then run around the truck and climb behind the wheel. After kicking my heels off, I peel out of the parking lot. Thankfully, at this hour, these streets are desolate.
Michael hisses through clenched teeth as he shrugs out of his tuxedo jacket, and I glance over, my stomach churning when I see the blood staining his white dress shirt. “It’s just a flesh wound,” he says, though he presses the wadded-up jacket against it and leans back, eyes closed.
“Just a flesh wound? That’s a lot of blood!”
“I’ve had worse.”
“Because that makes it better,” I snap then pull out onto the street and head toward Boston General.
We make it two stoplights before a truck runs a red light and slams into Michael’s side of the vehicle. Metal crunches, and a scream ricochets through the truck. It takes me two seconds before I realize it’s coming from me. Pain shoots through me, and I reach up with shaky fingers to feel warm liquid coming from my forehead.
The truck backs up and slams into us again.
The horn is deafening.
“Go,” Michael growls when our vehicle comes to a stop. He points to the left, to the tree line just out of reach. “Run.”
“I—” I don’t even get the chance to tell him I won’t leave him before the door is ripped open and a masked man withdraws a gun. He points it at Michael and fires.
“No!” I scream, tugging at my seatbelt and trying to get free.
He turns the weapon on me and fires—and everything goes black.