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“Me? Cross a line?” she retorted, her sarcasm a familiar comfort. It was exactly what I expected, and secretly hoped for.

“Now that I’ve aired out my baggage with an ex, I think you owe me the same,” she said, her tone playful but her eyes curious.

I shrugged, leaning back in my chair. “Got nothing.”

“Come on,” she urged, leaning closer. “You’ve never brought a woman around to meet your brother? Never had your heart broken? Never broke a heart yourself?”

“Oh, I’ve definitely broken some hearts in my day. Look at me,” I said, attempting a smile.

“Are you in pain?” Eleanor teased, her laughter breaking through the night. “Because first, that smile was horrendous, and second, you just made a joke.”

“Chalk it up to the late hour,” I replied, the corners of my mouth twitching into a real smile.

“And that mask slipping?” she pressed, her eyes narrowing in playful suspicion.

The mask was slipping, and with Eleanor, it felt okay.

I never had the power to choose what I wanted for myself. I went my whole life living as a version I thought I had to be. It wasn’t until I took control, until I realized I was where that change happened. And ever since, I refused to give up that control again.

I scoffed but didn’t deny it. Riding the wave of vulnerability, I blurted out a question that had been on my mind, which may not have been the smartest move.

“Would you like to come to an event with me tomorrow night?”

When we were at the motel, I’d noticed an email with an invitation to an art gala, a plus one attached. Normally, I denied those things, but I’d held onto the RSVP longer this time in case I changed my mind.

Eleanor’s lips curved into a smile, soft yet a little dangerous. Her usual tight expression softened, and I could see her own mask slipping.

“Sure, someone has to keep you in line,” she quipped, her voice light but filled with tease.

“Never mind,” I growled, feigning annoyance. “I’ll just ask Tawnie.”

Her soft laugh drew my attention back to her, and then her fingers brushed against my arm. I looked down to see her hand resting on my bicep, her gaze locked onto mine. The touch was light, but it sent a shiver through me.

“I’m joking,” she murmured, her eyes sparkling. “I’d be honored to go.”

The moment felt reminiscent of our time at the bar—the second time—only now, there was no alcohol to use as a crutch to explain the emotions swirling between us. The weight of her gaze, the soft smile on her lips—it all made me feel lighter, like happiness was slowly seeping into my veins.

The smile that bloomed on my face was genuine, and I knew Eleanor saw it too. Her eyes flicked to the corners of mine, likely searching for those telltale creases of a true smile. For once, I let her see them.

Chapter 24

Eleanor

GOING OUT IN public on Colton Stone’s arm made my insides do weird flip-flops, my gut twisting in knots of anticipation.

I started getting ready hours ago, needing to perfect every strand of hair and every swipe of makeup. There was no room for error. With an event like this, photos were inevitable, and the thought made me even more uneasy.

When Colton asked me to join him, I tried hard to rein in the shock. This wasn’t something he typically did—one quick Google search would confirm that. The fact that he was asking me now had my mind racing, filled with questions I wasn’t ready to have answered.

I didn’t want to get ahead of myself, didn’t want to start conjuring up scenarios that weren’t true, like the idea that maybe I was having the same, deeper effect on Colton that he had on me.

In the moment, I wanted to say no. There was a feeling of hesitation, a little voice telling me that I shouldn’t blurt out the thing my heart wanted to do. Another part of me wanted to allow logic to take over and deny attending this gala, but I couldn’t.

Colton Stone didn’t ask for much and who was I to be the one to deny him?

I told myself this was all for the sake of work. That thought alone was enough for me to latch on to in order to ease the nerves of saying yes.

Styling my hair into curls, I wrapped a strand around the thick barrel of the iron, counting to ten before letting go. My chestnut hair bounced to life in a cascade of messy curls. Before I could pick up the next strand, there was a knock at my door.