Istoodbeyondthearchwaythat led to the sitting room, hidden by shadow in the dimly lit foyer. I hadn’t been here long, having let myself get wrapped up in work I’d been neglecting in favor of scouring the internet, and Skye’s corrupted devices, for her father. Mom had sent me to announce that dinner was finally on the table, but the sound of Skye’s laugh had stopped me in my tracks.
I hadn’t heard that sound in years.
I’d forgotten what it sounded like when it was real; it was a warm, rich sound that made my heart clench. She was laughing like she hadn’t known she could until this exact moment.
Skye sat with Hailey perched on her lap, arms loosely wrapped around my niece’s tiny frame. Reid stood nearby, grinning as Hailey launched into some dramatic retelling of a play she’d seen. Emersyn and Lark were curled up on the couch, drinks in hand. All of them were talking like old friends. Like family.
She wasn’t a stranger to my family. She had practically lived here when we were both young and everything still felt unshakable. But thiswas different. We were all older now, worn around the edges in ways no one liked to talk about.
My family had known real loss since then. We’d lived in the shadow of it, changed forever. And somehow…Skye didn’t seem like a ghost from my past. She belonged in this room. She brought light to it.
It had been a long time since I’d seen her this way. She looked happy. Everyone around her reflected that, too. I’d noticed it since she came to stay with my parents. The way she talked about them, and the way they spoke about her in return; I’d never known someone could bring such ease to the people I loved most—my family—like she had.
The realization hit me harder than her laugh had.
Ever since Skye had come back into my life, I had told myself it was just the past pulling at me. I’d thought if I focused on my anger and her betrayal, I’d be able to ignore the truth. That the way I felt for her wasn’t some unresolved thread from a different life. This feeling wasn’t coming from nostalgia. It wasn’t unfinished business.
It was her.
Skye Adler had a gravity around her. No matter how hard I’d tried to resist it, to brace myself—I was sinking in again. Falling harder than I meant to. Deeper than I could afford.
Fear wrapped around my heart, almost bringing me to my knees. When she left this time—when she walked away—it was going to ruin me.
As if I had called her name, her head turned. Her gaze found mine from across the space, pinning me to the spot. Her smile disappeared as something shifted between us.
It happened so fast, I wasn’t sure whether I was imagining it, but her eyes stayed locked on mine, grounding me as something built between us. An invisible cord I’d pretended didn’t tether us pulled tight, bridging the gap that had been stretched for years and miles.
For a moment, it was like we were in our own little world. The noise of the house dulled as everything, and everyone, melted away but me and her.
My heart fluttered, raced, as if it needed to be set free. Skye’s face flushed. Every molecule in my body drew me toward her, to reach out and close the space we’d let grow wide and vacant between us.
But then, I froze. In fear, in longing. Everything hit me all at once, like a wave washing me out to sea.
“Hey.” Roman’s heavy hand clapped down on my shoulder, suddenly breaking the spell. “Food’s getting cold, little brother.”
Startled, I blinked over at him.
I didn’t reply, and when I looked back at Skye, she had turned away. But the soft pink blush still warmed her cheeks.
“Come on, Hailey,” Roman called, his deep voice rumbling through the room. “Time to eat.”
He caught everyone’s attention, and they all started to rise from their seats and drift toward the table. The kitchen was filled with movement and warmth.
Skye walked past me, and as she did, her fingers brushed the inside of my forearm. It was only a whisper of contact—but it scorched.
I swallowed hard, barely able to breathe.
Dinner was…difficult.
I ended up across from her at the table, which was either the worst or best decision. Even though I had a full table of family to look at—my brothers, my friends, Hailey’s dramatic flair—I only saw her.
She smiled easily. She told stories I’d never heard about sleeping in cramped motels in the middle of nowhere, chasing down leads that made my skin crawl listening to them, calling out corruption on live television without flinching. Her voice lit up with passion, with that fire I remembered burning in her even back when we were teenagers.
The rest of the table laughed with her, nodded, and asked questions. They liked her. They always had.
She wasn’t just some high school girlfriend they remembered fondly.
She was Skye Adler. Strong. Sharp. Brave as hell. And somehow still soft enough to sit with my niece on her lap and talk about Broadway like she hadn’t spent half her life staring down monsters.
