Ellie finds me before I make it halfway across the room.
“There you are!” She throws her arms around my neck, smelling like vanilla and champagne. “Mom’s been asking where you disappeared to. Also, did you see Savannah? She’s here somewhere. You guys should catch up.”
My grip tightens on the empty glass. “We already did.”
Ellie pulls back, eyes narrowing. “And?”
“And she wasn’t exactly thrilled to see me.”
My sister tilts her head, studying me the way she’s done since we were kids, and she knew I was hiding report cards in the cereal cabinet.
“What did you do?” she asks, point-blank.
I open my mouth. Close it. I’m not really in the mood to have Ellie murder me, and she would if she knew I’d hurt her best friend.
“Nothing,” I lie.
“Liar.” She pokes me in the chest. “Fix it. Whatever it is. Savannah’s family.”
Family. Right.
Ellie kisses my cheek and bounces off toward a group of cousins, leaving me alone with the noise and the lights and the memory of Savannah’s face when she said no.
I’m not giving up.
I spent ten weeks telling myself distance would kill whatever this is. It didn’t. If anything, it made it worse. Every city I landed in, every hotel bed that wasn’t the one she’d been in, every morning I woke up reaching for someone who wasn’t there was proof that walking away didn’t fix anything.
I set the empty tumbler on a passing tray and resume moving. Not toward the bar this time. Toward the hallway that leads to the library. She used to hide there when these parties got too loud, curled up in Dad’s old leather chair with a book and a stolen plate of cookies.
I don’t expect her to be there now, but I have to check.
The library door is cracked open, firelight flickering across the rows of books. I push it wider. Savannah’s standing by the window, arms wrapped around herself, staring out at the snow that’s just started to fall.
For a second, I can’t move. She looks so beautiful, hair spilling down her back, the curve of her neck making my hands ache with muscle memory.
She hears me anyway. Her shoulders stiffen, and she doesn’t turn around. “I’m not great company tonight,” she says to the glass.
“I don’t need great company. I need you to talk to me.”
She laughs, but it’s brittle. “You didn’t want to talk in October.”
The words hit like a slap. I step closer.
“I was an idiot in October. I’m not now.”
“Congratulations on your personal growth.”
“Savannah.” I stop just behind her, close enough to see the reflection of her eyes in the window. They’re bright with unshed tears. “I’m sorry. I woke up that morning and panicked. I’d spent years pretending I didn’t want you, and then one night, I blew that all to hell. I didn’t know how to handle it.”
She finally turns. The firelight catches on her cheekbones, the tight line of her mouth.
“So you left.”
“I left,” I admit. “And I’ve regretted it every single day since.”
Her gaze searches my face like she’s looking for the lie. She won’t find it.
“Dinner tomorrow,” I say again, softer this time. “One hour. If you still want me to disappear after that, I will. I swear.”
