It started as a walk, but my legs carried me quicker and quicker down the Alderton-Du Ponte hallway until my steps were a jog. And then that jog turned into a run.
I ran as fast as I could in the stupid heels, their clacking echoing off the walls like gunshots. I knew exactly where I was going, feet carrying me toward the one place I’d avoided for years. The place I’d gone to over and over again for years to find him.
I knew, without knowing how I knew it, that that was where Beck would be now.
I shoved through a door that led outside, the cooler air greeting my skin. I nearly stumbled, my heel hooked in one of the crevices of the cobblestones, and I only paused to kick both shoes off, leaving them in the middle of the path as I hurried on. He wouldn’t have left the party yet. Not yet. Not without saying happy birthday. Not without saying goodbye.
The outside of Alderton-Du Ponte wasn’t as well-lit, since it wasn’t a place that was supposed to function after eight, but despite the fact that I hadn’t gone here in years, I knew the path by heart.
And, in the garden exactly where I knew he’d be, stood Beck.
His back was to the entrance, his hands slipped into the pockets of his jeans, staring up at the winding tree above him. Something caused him to turn—probably the ragged sound of my breath—and the sight of him in the serenity garden hit me in full force.
The last time we’d been here together had been the best night of my life—and then the worst.
“Where’s the fire?” Beck asked, trying to invoke humor even though he looked mildly alarmed.
“You’re leaving,” I gasped, chest heaving and lungs burning. “You’re leaving Addison.”
“Is that a question?”
“Beck.”
His hands slipped from his pockets. “I’m not leavingtonight,” he said, taking a hesitant step closer. “Is that what you rushed out here to find out?”
I didn’t respond, mostly because I was still gulping down air. Desperation had propelled me forward, stolen my breath, and left me swaying.
Beck’s gaze dropped. “Where are your shoes?”
My shoes. I couldn’t even bring myself to care about my heels, nor my bare feet, which were cool on the cobblestones. “Are you leaving because of me?” I asked, breathing through my nose and trying to slow my heartbeat. I took a step toward him. “Are you leaving because you hate me?”
Please say no. I didn’t know what to do if he said yes.Yes, that he hated me, andyes, he was leaving because he couldn’t stand the sight of me.
A strange expression passed over Beck’s face, looking halfway between amused and something else. “He won, didn’t he?” At the sight of the line between my brows, he clarified, “Carter.”
Carter. Not Pebble Brain. That, alone, felt like defeat, but not Beck’s. Mine.
My lips parted, but the words wouldn’t come out.Carter didn’t win, I wanted to tell him.It’s not real. But I knew what would happen if I said that. Beck’s lips would twist into a smirk. His eyes would shutter.See?he’d say.Perfect Eleanor Brighton.
“Go back to your party, Nell,” Beck said softly, eyes glancing over me one final time. “You’ve got goosebumps.” And then he turned to the tree once more.
My entire body hummed, the same way it’d hummed four years ago when I’d entered this same garden. Filled with energy that vibrated through me, threatening to splinter me apart. My confidence wavered, and the speech I’d been practicing over and over died on my lips. “Play with me,” I said instead.
“Play?” Beck glanced at the outdoor chess table, one bare of pieces. “What, right now?”
“Yes.” I started hunting in the grass, looking for stones, clovers, anything that could be useful as pieces. I’d need sixteen pawns, four knights, four bishops…
“Nellie.” Beck’s voice came close behind me. “Your birthday party is happeningright now. You’re the guest of honor.”
“Only half. Jamie’s inside.”
“Eleanor.”
I straightened, finding Beck with a serious line between his brows. I wanted to rub it away, like he’d done to me once upon a time, but he was more than an arm’s length from me. “Think of it as a birthday present,” I told him, realizing what I was doing. The same thing Daisy was doing inside.S-T-A-L-L-I-N-G. “Ifyou’re going to leave again… play one last game with me.”
This time, I knew that once Beck left, he’d probably never come back. There’d be no imagining the next time, no point in hoping for it. That thought was what spurred me now, and some other desperation that I couldn’t name.
“I’ll find the pawns,” Beck said finally. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “You find the rest.”
