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Right. Of course.
“And that can’t wait ’til later?” I say before I can help myself.
She shrugs, and bats her eyes at me in that way she’s always done. “I miss him.”
All thoughts of creepy men and canes forgotten, I roll my eyes to cover up the twinge in my chest. Me too, I think. And that’s the problem. “Be quick,” I tell her. “Or I’ll have to pull out the big guns and tell everyone you’ve got the runs.”
Her mouth drops open in a gasp. “You’d never!”
I wouldn’t, but it would be funny…
“Try me,” I toss back.
She smirks, shaking her head, brown strands of hair catching and twirling on the breeze coming from the distant ocean. If I listen hard enough, I can just make out the waves crashing along the beach.
“Love you, brother,” she says.
“Love you too, sister.”
And turning on my heel, I shove open the glass doors, leaving my other half on the veranda under a black, starless sky.
Music and chatter coming from the ballroom drift out into the hallway, following me as I make a last second detour into the men’s room to piss.
The row of urinals is empty—the entire bathroom seems to be—much to my relief.
Inhaling deeply, I unzip and aim at the white basin.
My thoughts drift, once more returning to that man with the cane. I frown, but quickly shake off the feelings rearing up. Away from what happened, and away from Izzy, it’s all too easy to walk it back, dismantling what happened into nothing, just like years of therapy taught me.
She was just doing what she does best, I tell myself, regarding my sister. She was stooping to my level, to make me feel less alone.
We’re in a packed convention center in South Palm Beach. What’s the worst that could happen?
Still, after I finish up and wash my hands, I pull out my phone and text Mason.
Tell Izzy she’s needed back inside
I don’t even question why I go to him, rather than her directly. I just know she’s more likely to listen to him. And that’s assuming they’re still talking on the phone, and she hasn’t already come back inside. It’s been five minutes, if that.
Once it shows that it’s been read, I don’t bother waiting for a response. I lock my phone and go to pocket it, just as the bathroom door creaks open. The orchestral music coming from the ballroom spikes, before diminishing once more.
Stepping to the side, a flash of white catches my eye in the mirror just before I can turn around.
No fucking way.
Dropping my gaze, I quickly busy myself with fiddling with my tie, and get ready to high-tail it out of there as soon as my path is clear, when soft, uneven footsteps interspersed with the dull, uneven clacking of a cane come to a sudden stop in the middle of the room.
“Well, if it isn’t a little dove flown astray.”
My gaze snaps up, instantly getting snatched up by those freakishly bright blue eyes. Keeping my face angled down, I watch through my lashes and the golden hair curling around my face as his smile curves up.
He tilts his head, his white hair gleaming under the too-bright lights.
“Excuse me,” I murmur, and go to step around him, when he throws his cane out, extending it, blocking my path.
I stare at the gaudy thing, blinking rapidly.
A buzzing fills my ears as memories of being trapped by Ethan and his minions—cornered—surge forward, my pulse ratcheting up. My hands grow clammy and tingly. All indicators of an oncoming panic attack.
