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I need to know if it’s her.
With a mumbled excuse, I walk away, making my way through the crowd until I reach the doors.
And then there’s no denying it’s her.
But gone is the warmth in her eyes.
I recognize the man with his hand on her arm, only because I saw him earlier taking pictures with a press badge around his neck.
I can’t hear him, but her… I hear every word.
Her eyes widen, fear slicing through them like lightning. The sound of her pleas reaches my ears, her voice strained. “Please get your hands off me.”
I wait for him to let go, but he doesn’t. He still has his hand wrapped around her elbow.
A wave of fury surges, hot and blinding. The fear on her face is all too familiar—a chilling echo of the fear I witnessed too often in my mother’s eyes. It sets my jaw, tightens my fists. My vision narrows, the background noise fades, and my focus zeroes in on the two of them. I take a step out.
“It’s best if you tell us your side before people make their own assumptions.”
Stupid bastard is still touching her.
“Please—”
Another step, and it takes all my power to stuff my hands in my pockets to stop myself from ripping him away. “If she has to ask you again to remove your hands, I’ll remove them for you. So, I suggest you do it while the bones are still intact.”
I keep my eyes on her, the shock in hers confirming what I already knew.
“If you want to talk—” he tries to say, but I cut him off, not once taking my eyes off her. I couldn’t if I tried.
“Don’t fucking look at her.”
He mumbles some curses as he walks away.
Good choice.
I take a moment to drink her in before I say, “Bethany Rose.”
The color drains from her face as she meets my stare with wide eyes. Her silence leaves me doubting myself, her body still, unmoving.
“Logan.” My name slips out from her lips like a strained prayer.
She echoes it a couple more times, each utterance sounding like a question she doesn’t want the answer to.
She lifts a shaky finger. “Please don’t call me that. Bethany Rose. People call me Beth… just Beth.”
I arch a brow at the sudden heat in her voice. “Alright.”
I anticipated a hint of recognition, a spark of familiarity, perhaps. But the haunted look in her eyes, the way she’s watching me as if I were a ghost, that was not on the list of things I expected.
I don’t know why I followed her, but the compulsion was as irresistible as a flame to a moth.
“I’m sorry.” Her smile, as shaky and unsure as her words, breaks the silence. “I just didn’t expect to see you. It’s been… a long time.”
“It has been. You okay?” I ask, nodding toward the reporter making his way back inside. “He seemed… determined.”
She shakes her head, her gaze skittish as it darts around the balcony. “It’s nothing.”
“Oh, good! You two have met already,” Claire’s voice cuts through the air, her heels clacking against the tiles as she joins us. Beth freezes, her eyes slipping from mine.
