“Rys,” I said, voice low. “Think that Howard guy could help me out?”
“Uh-huh,” Elio muttered.
Ale chuckled.
“Sure,” Rys said. “He’s over there.”
Howard stood by the DJ booth, sipping whiskey as two girls in sequins leaned into him.
“Howard,” Rys called. “Asher was wondering if you could help with something.”
Howard slung an arm around my shoulders like we’d known each other longer than ten minutes. “Anything for our favorite racer.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I was hoping to request a song.”
He boomed with laughter, raking a hand through gelled hair. “Just one? Request as many as you want.”
He tapped the DJ’s sleeve. The guy tilted his head toward me, and I leaned in as the volume dropped just enough to tell him what I wanted.
He gave me a thumbs-up, and the slow beats of the song Kaia and I had danced to after Forward Racing’s gala filled the club.
Nerves socked me in the gut. I pushed through the crowd toward her. She hadn’t moved from the spot on the floor, but now her wide eyes were locked on me. My insides twisted as her friends giggled, tossing curious looks my way.
“Dance with me,” I said. “Please.”
She hesitated, and my chest squeezed. Then—one tiny step forward. Our fingers brushed, and I caught her hand, sliding my arm around her waist and pulling her close. Goosebumps shot across my skin where my forearm pressed her back.
Tentatively, like the first time, Kaia slid her palms up my arms, her right hand resting on my shoulder.
“Does it still hurt?” she asked as we began to sway.
I cupped her jaw, my thumb smoothing her cheekbone. “No.”
“Good,” she whispered, her breath ghosting across my collarbone.
“I thought you’d ask what I’m doing here.”
Her lips twitched, almost a smile. “Stalking me?”
The beat quickened. I tightened my hold and slid my fingers into her hair.
She shivered when I massaged her scalp.
“No, peque. I had no idea you’d be here.”
She tilted her chin up. “Should I believe you? They never play this song anywhere.”
I brushed her cheek with my nose. “Now they do.”
Three minutes and forty-five seconds weren’t enough. Anxiety coiled in my chest. When it ended, what then?
“I’m sorry,” I whispered in her ear.
“For what, Ash?” Her fingers curled around my neck, and goosebumps returned, paired with the ache in my gut.
“The other day. Two years ago. Every moment I missed. Every time you cried. I’m so fucking sorry for all of it.”
The song dipped to a hush, a heartbeat before the final chorus.
