Page 78 of The Truth of Us

My throat tightened immediately, because somehow that made me want to. The light from the house reflected across the snow. For a long moment, I watched them.

Then quietly I asked, "Have you ever wanted something so badly that it scared you?"

His expression didn't change. "Yes."

I looked down at my hands.

"I thought..." My voice cracked, so I stopped and tried again. "I thought maybe it was becoming something real."

The words felt pathetic once they were out in the open, but Oliver didn't react. So I kept going. "I knew what I was agreeing to." I laughed softly. A broken sound. "I wasn't naive."

"No." the answer came immediately. "You've never been naive."

I stared out across the property again.

"I just didn't realize how much it would hurt." The confession hung between us.

Oliver looked out across the snow-covered grounds.

"My mother always says that the things worth having are usually the things capable of hurting us the most."

I swallowed. "That sounds terrible."

He barked out a laugh. "Yeah. I never said she was good at pep talks."

Oliver was quiet for a long time. Then, finally, he said, "Whoever he is..."

I closed my eyes. A small smile pulled at my lips, because we both knew that Oliver was very aware of who Elliot was.

"Whoever he is," Oliver repeated softly, "he's an idiot, and definitely not invited to your coming-out party."

I laughed hard enough that tears burned behind my eyes. The laughter faded slowly, leaving something quieter behind. For too long it felt like I had been holding my breath, waiting for the right thing to happen. Waiting for my life, my past, for it all to make sense and to fall into place. Standing beside Oliver beneath the winter sky, I realized I wasn't waiting anymore.

20

ELLIOT

Northwell's New Year's party was exactly the kind of thing I should have enjoyed. Elegant and excessive. Champagne towers stretched toward the ceiling. A string quartet played near the grand staircase while a DJ waited in another room for midnight, when the crowd inevitably abandoned sophistication and embraced chaos. Models, socialites, athletes, politicians, and trust-fund disasters moved through the ballroom in expensive dresses and tailored suits.

Everywhere I looked, there were beautiful women, and I couldn't have cared less.

I stood near the bar, nursing a glass of scotch I hadn't wanted fifteen minutes ago and still didn't want now.

It had been over three weeks. Three fucking weeks. Three weeks since Harper walked away, since she'd ignored every call, returned every gift I'd ever given her, and looked at me like she never wanted to see me again.

The worst part?

I still didn't know where she was. It shouldn't have been possible, not with the resources Northwell had. Not with the people I knew. And yet somehow Harper Lane had vanished, or Rowan was hiding shit from me.

Which was why I crossed the ballroom toward him. Rowan saw me coming, and his expression immediately soured.

"Absolutely not," he ground out.

"I haven't said anything." I all but whined.

"You were going to," He said with a raised brow.

I stopped beside him. "Where is she?"