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But even as she firmed up her resolve, her heart betrayed her, drumming that traitorous name against her ribcage.
Cal. Cal. Cal.
She curled her hands into fists and told her heart to shut up. Cal was not to be thought about or dwelled on. He’d only been a fling—a charming, confusing fling that wasn’t good for her. Nothing more. Certainly nothing her stupid heart needed to be concerned about.
Amy cleared her throat, pulling Ellie from her thoughts. “All right, girls. Enough of the past. What’s done is done. We should get back to the party before people think we’ve vanished.”
Shane offered his arm to Alexis, and with a glance at her mother, she placed her hand in his.
As they returned the reception, Ellie kept a close eye on her sister. Alexis had this amazing ability to bounce back from anything. Even now, she was pulling herself together, ready to dazzle their guests with her charisma and charm.
God, Ellie admired her.
Alexis had been through so much over the years—the disappearance of Hope, the Shadow Stalker case, her own kidnapping, and a near-death experience. Somehow, she always came back stronger, brighter.
Ellie wished she was that resilient. She felt flayed open, raw and exposed. She wanted to crawl into bed, bury her face in Puzzle’s fur, and cry until her tears ran out for the sister she barely remembered but missed with her entire heart.
She felt rather than saw him approach. Cal was like that, emanating a warmth that she recognized every time. She turned to find him right there, watching her with those earnest eyes. As always, he was a chaotic blend of concern and cheerfulness, his hair even more ruffled now than it had been earlier. She adored that he always looked just a little bit rumpled.
“You okay?” he asked, his gaze searching her face.
Ellie looked away. She wanted to ask him about the girl who looked like Hope. She wanted to voice her feelings, but they were so jumbled up inside her like a ball of yarn, and she didn’t know how to begin unraveling them.
So, instead, she forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something—comfort her, maybe—but he seemed to think better of it and simply offered her the glass of champagne he held. “You look like you need a drink.”
She accepted the glass, their fingers fleetingly brushing. The contact sent a shock through her system, but she ignored it and avoided his gaze.
“Thanks.” At least her voice was steadier than she felt.
“Did you tell Alexis?” he asked and snagged another glass from a passing server.
“No.” She took a long drink. The bubbles fizzed against her tongue, the golden liquid not quite managing to wash away the bitter taste of old sorrow. “I’m not ruining this day for her.”
He smiled as he watched Shane and Alexis together. “They look happy.”
“They are.” As she watched them, she realized Cal’s gaze was back on her. It was disconcerting— partly because she wasn’t used to being the center of anyone’s attention, but mostly because she knew there was nothing she could hide from him. He had a way of seeing right through her, dissecting her thoughts and emotions in an instant. It was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.
“Want to dance?” he asked, extending his hand towards her.
She looked at his offered hand and then back up at his face. For a moment, she hesitated. She wanted to, but at the same time, dancing with Cal felt dangerous. “I’m not really in the mood.”
“Come on, Ellie. You love to dance.”
“Not with—” She bit off the automatic response, realizing it was cruel to say out loud.
There was a flash of disappointment in his eyes, but he quickly masked it with a nod of understanding. Why was he so understanding? It made it really hard to maintain her defenses and keep him at a distance.
“Not with me,” he finished.
“No,” she whispered around the lump in her throat. “Not with you.”
“I get that.” He took her glass from her, placing it on a nearby table. “But I refuse to be the reason you don’t have a good time tonight.” He closed a hand around hers and tugged her toward the dance floor.
“Cal…” Despite her protest, she didn’t pull away. She could’ve. His grip on her hand was loose, giving her plenty of opportunity to escape, but she allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. The music shifted to a slower ballad as they reached it. Of course. The universe really had a wicked sense of humor.
Or…
