I turn toward the stairs, toward Mason. But before I reach the top, I glance back and my eyes lock with James’s—a silent plea written in the depths of his. I don’t have time for words. But I hope he sees it in my face.
Yes.
I hope my desperation is as clear as his.
“What are you doing out here?” Mason asks, his eyes sweeping the deck.
“Needed some fresh air.”
Mason scans my face, searching for the lie. His golden hair, combed over and frozen with product, defies gravity and weather alike. It stays rigidly in place, matching the scowl on his lips, even as a strong gust rolls off the mountains. I brush past him, stepping into the cabin’s warmth. Conversation and clinking glasses wash over me as I pretend my feet are on the ground rather than floating from the almost-confession Mason interrupted.
When James finally slips back inside a few minutes later, Mason’s head snaps toward the door. For a split second, confusion flickers—then realization strikes. His eyes cut to me, sharp and damning, the truth snapping into place without a word spoken. James slips past everyone, not seeming to notice us. Gone is the charming host, replaced by something dark and vicious. Mason clamps a hand around mine, the grip punishing, and he yanks me toward the stairs.
The bedroom door slams shut behind us. His hands are on me instantly, pulling at the hem of my dress, his breath jagged.
Using all my strength, I push his hands away. “Mason…” The truth scorches my tongue, but I can’t let it out, not like this. Instead, I lie. “I have my period. The cramps are brutal.”
He stills, his face hardening. “Funny how your cramps didn’t stop you from putting on a show with Jules.”
With an indignant turn, he disappears out the door.
I stand there, stunned, my skin still crawling from his rough hands. I wait for the anger, the sting, the shame, but it doesn’t come. Echoes of the party hum through the house, laughter and music drifting under the door. Inside this room, I finally let myself breathe, James’s words playing on a loop through my mind.
“Let me be your family. You, me, Anna.”
The plea in his voice. The way his lips brushed against my hand, fingers tightening around mine, clinging to hope itself. And the way “yes” was on the verge of leaving my lips.
Twenty-Five
Thehouseisstill,wrapped in the hush of a late morning after a long night.
But inside me, everything churns. I need time to think without eyes on me. I lace up my running shoes and step into the cold. The winter air slices through me, shocking me fully awake. The cold strips away the noise and the fear.
With every mile, the fog in my head lifts. A plan begins to take shape.
I’ve spent too long shrinking myself. There is no more vacillating between staying or leaving. It’s time to build a life that’s mine and step out of the shadow of my mother’s suicide. It’s time I demand what I deserve. I can be as brave as my daughter and be fearless in what I choose.
I step inside with a long, exacting breath, ready for the truth to come out. Tell Mason I’m done. Let go of my life-raft Wallises. And tell James yes.
Until I look up—and a sharp gasp catches in my throat.
Ivy is straddling James on the sectional. Her hands tangled in his hair, her body flush against his. She devours him with reckless abandon, lips moving over his with desperate hunger.
And he lets her.
He doesn’t push her away; instead, his hands clench the cushions. Her body moves against him, a slow grind, lost in a world where no one else exists.
Except I exist.
I stand there. Watching. Unable to look away.
A low moan escapes Ivy as she shifts against him, deepening the kiss—and something inside me twists so violently I’m shocked to find I’m still standing.
I should move. Say something. Let them know I’m here.
Before I can, the door behind me swings open. Footsteps. Laughter. The sound of my in-laws and the kids returning from their night at the hotel.
Ivy pulls away, grinning when she sees me. She wipes a hand across her lips and straightens her clothes, drawing out the moment and letting it sink into my bones.
