Chapter 21 #2
"Yeah, you always say that." Reed stepped back, still grinning. "Come on. Open bar. You look like you need a drink."
Reed steered him toward the bar, snaking through the crowd, people calling out greetings that Reed returned with easy charm.
They were aiming straight for Novak and Hale.
Reed was an ass.
"Look who finally showed up," Reed announced as they approached. "Shaw, you remember Novak from Selection. And Hale."
Elliot's gaze remained steady, his shoulders relaxed, as he nodded. His voice didn't waver when he said, "Novak," then, because there was no avoiding it, "Hale."
Hale met his eyes and held them. Three years collapsed in about four seconds.
"Shaw." Hale’s voice sounded smooth, almost off-hand, as if they were acquaintances running into each other at a grocery store instead of two people who'd spent months fucking in storage closets. "Been a while."
"Three years."
"Right. Three years." Hale sipped his drink. His hand on the glass was steady, everything about him completely unbothered, as if this wasn't affecting him at all.
Elliot clenched his jaw. Why the hell did he notice? Why the hell did he care?
"So," Reed said, drawing out the word. He clearly enjoyed this way too much. "Shaw's been in Germany. Hale in the Middle East. You guys should catch up."
Silence.
"Germany," Hale said finally. "That's... far."
"It's in Europe," Elliot confirmed.
"Right. Yeah. Europe." Hale nodded like this was fascinating information. "Cold there?"
"In winter."
"Makes sense." Another nod. "Middle East is sunny."
"So I've heard."
"Yeah.” Hale swirled his drink. "Really warm."
"It usually is when it’s sunny."
More silence. Excruciating silence.
"You guys are really good at this," Reed said.
Novak watched them both with barely concealed amusement. Reed bit down on a grin.
"I'm getting a drink," Elliot said abruptly.
"Good call." Hale stepped aside to make space for him at the bar.
Reed pulled out his phone, then turned to Novak with exaggerated alarm. "Oh shit. Sarah needs us. Right now. Immediate bridal emergency."
Novak raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Yes. Catastrophic. Life or death." Reed was already backing away, pulling Novak with him. "You two keep catching up. Talk about... weather patterns. Climate zones. Whatever."
Novak shot them an apologetic look as Reed dragged him off, but Elliot saw him grinning.
They were alone.
Hale shifted his weight, and suddenly he was closer—close enough that Elliot caught his agarwood cologne that hadn't existed three years ago. Close enough to see the small scar above his left eyebrow that Elliot didn't remember.
"You look good," Hale said after a moment, his gaze tracking over Elliot lazily.
Elliot's throat tightened. "You too."
The party noise filled the space between them—glasses clinking, a guest laughing too loud across the room, Reed's voice carrying from somewhere in the back.
"Reed's enjoying this a little too much," Elliot said.
"He literally called us both being here the greatest wedding gift of all time."
Elliot snorted.
"He's so subtle. Look at him surveilling us.” Hale glanced across the room to where Reed held court near the bar.
"About as subtle as—"
"A tactical strike," Hale finished.
Elliot eyed him. "You stole my line."
"You were taking too long. You were always slow on the draw."
"Excuse me?" Elliot’s eyes narrowed.
Hale’s mouth did that thing—the sly smile that Elliot had spent three years not thinking about. "I beat your time on every single assignment."
"By seconds."
"A win is a win, Shaw." Hale laughed clear and genuine, and the tension in Elliot’s shoulders unknotted slightly.
"God," Elliot said, shaking his head. "Three years and you're still insufferable."
"Aw. You’ve missed it. Admit it." Hale smirked.
Elliot didn’t answer.
Hale studied him the way he used to at Selection, back when Elliot had pretended not to notice. "You doing okay?"
Elliot opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again.
"I—"
"Shaw!" someone called from across the room. One of Reed's buddies, waving him over. "Get over here. Reed's telling the story about the demolition site and you need to fact-check his bullshit."
Elliot locked eyes with Hale, who watched him with an expression he couldn’t quite read.
"Go," Hale said. "I'll... see you around."
"Yeah. See you around."
Elliot walked away before he could do anything stupid. Like ask Hale if they could talk later—really talk—instead of whatever this had been.
The rest of the dinner passed in a blur of forced normalcy.
Elliot ended up at a table with guys from Fort Liberty, half-listening to stories he'd heard before, laughing when it seemed appropriate. Hale had settled in with Novak and some of the Selection crew at another table, completely at ease, and Elliot’s stomach pulled tight watching him.
He checked his watch. 2100 hours. Another two hours, maybe three, before this wrapped up and he could retreat to his hotel room. Tomorrow he'd show up at the wedding, get through the ceremony without making it weird, and then this would be over.
One more day and Hale would go back to the Middle East and Elliot would go back to Fort Liberty and they could both go back to pretending.
Across the room, Hale said something that made Novak laugh. His hands moved as he talked—animated and expressive, so different from Elliot's own careful stillness. He looked away and signaled for another drink.
Tomorrow was going to be hell.