“I didn’t think you’d mind,” she says, and the words slice before I even understand them. “Athena kept asking if she should come. How you were doing, wondering if the trip finally knocked some sense into you.” She takes a sip of her drinkand places it on the table in front of her. “You were looking so relaxed, I told her of course she should join, that it was a great opportunity to rekindle things with you. And of course, the trip wouldn’t be the same without her.”
I stop dead. My pulse spikes hot in my temples. “You told her to come?”
Nicole shrugs, unconcerned, adjusting the strap of her dress. “She belongs here, Connie. You two were always the golden couple. People missed her. It just… made sense.”
Her voice is breezy, like she’s commenting on the weather and she hasn’t just detonated my entire night. Possibly my entire future.
Rage roars up fast, white and blinding. I step closer, my voice low but shaking with it. “Stay the hell out of my life, Nicole.”
Her smirk falters, just barely, but I don’t stay long enough to savor it.
I push forward toward the doors, only to find another wall in my path.
“Connor,” my father’s voice cuts, cool as a blade. His hand clamps around my arm, steering me toward a tall man in a sharp tux, the tie already loose and undone. “This is David Lasker. He’s Joe’s partner.”
Lasker extends a hand, teeth flashing. “Your father says you’re as sharp as they come. Hopefully, you are seriously considering our offer. We know you’d be a perfect fit for us.”
I don’t take his hand. My chest is still heaving, the need to run clawing at my ribs. “Hi, David, nice to meet you. I’m not interested.”
My father’s fingers tighten around my arm like a vise. His smile is fixed, brittle. “Connor. This is an excellent opportunity for you. Don’t be rude.”
Something in me cracks. The part of me that used to flinch, used to fold under that tone, finally snaps in half.
“I said no.” My voice is steady. “I don’t want the job. I don’t want your contacts. I don’t want any of it.”
A ripple of surprise flickers over David’s face. My father’s jaw tightens, his eyes promising the storm that will come later. I don’t care. Not anymore.
I wrench my arm free and shoulder past them both. The room feels smaller by the second, walls pressing in, every laugh like a nail in my skull.
The doors swing shut behind me with a heavy thud, muting the ballroom into a muffled hum. The cold night air hits like a slap—sharp, clean, threaded with pine and lake water. For a second I just stand there, bent over with my hands on my knees, dragging in lungfuls like I’ve been drowning all night and finally broke the surface.
The gravel path crunches under my shoes as I move fast, half-blind in the dark, every muscle wound tight. The mountains tower above, jagged silhouettes against the scatter of stars, and the lake spreads silver and restless at their base. It’s too beautiful for a night like this. Too still, too vast, when all I can feel is panic clawing at my ribs.
My mind won’t stop replaying the last twenty minutes. Athena’s hand on my arm. My mother’s satisfied smile. Nicole’s smug little shrug when she admitted she invited her. My father trying to sell me like a stock. And through it all, the empty chair where Manuela should’ve been.
I change directions, heading for the house quickly, but when I get there, it’s completely dark and every single room is empty.
I keep scanning, desperate. The dock juts out into the water, but she’s not there, either. I curse under my breath, chest tightening. Then, farther up the path, I catch the faintest outline—someone sitting on the bench tucked into the clearing, shoulders hunched against the night.
Manuela.
Relief slams into me so hard my knees almost buckle.
I slow as I get closer, not wanting to spook her. She’s staring out at the water, hands clasped tight in her lap, hair catching the moonlight like it’s spun from something I’ll never deserve.
For a moment I just watch because I can’t seem to do anything else. Because she looks perfect, like she belongs here—like she was carved out of these mountains, rooted to this place in a way I’ll never understand but want more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
Then she shifts just slightly, like she feels me coming before she hears me.
“Manu, baby.” My voice cracks on her name, raw from too much silence and too much shouting.
Her head turns, slow. Her eyes find mine, wide and wet, and the sight nearly guts me.
I take another step, then another, until I’m standing in front of her. I don’t reach for her—not yet. My hands are fists at my sides, shaking with everything I want to say and don’t know how.
“I looked everywhere,” I rasp. “Please don’t run from me.”
The lake laps gently at the shore, a sound so calm it feels cruel. She doesn’t speak right away, and the silence is a blade at my throat. But I don’t move. I won’t.
