Her skin still holds that post-performance flush. Her hair falls in waves past her shoulders, slightly mussed from the quick costume change. But it’s her eyes that give her away—wide, vulnerable, like she’s seeing us all for the first time.
“There,” Cal breathes. “Look at her.”
She’s overwhelmed. Hands trembling as she accepts congratulations, that practiced smile not fooling anyone who knows how to read her. She keeps glancing toward the exits like she’s calculating escape routes.
“She’s about to bolt,” I mutter, already shifting to stand.
But Jace cuts through the crowd like a blade, grabs her before she can flee, and throws her over his shoulder in one smooth motion that has the crowd cheering and Parker squealing half in protest, half in relief.
“Jace!” She beats on his back, but there’s no real fight in it. If anything, she sounds relieved that someone made the choice for her.
He carries her to our booth and sets her on the table between us. The movement makes her dress ride up slightly, exposing the smooth expanse of her thighs, and I have to clench my hands to keep from reaching for her.
I draw the curtains closed, sealing us in. The party becomes muffled background noise, creating an intimate bubble around the four of us.
“Put me down,” she says, but she doesn’t move from the table. Her breathing is still uneven, and I can smell her perfume mixed with the faint sheen of sweat from performing.
“You were about to run,” Jace states, positioning himself between her and any potential escape.
“I was not?—”
“You were.” Cal sets down his water, and when he looks at her, there’s heat in his gaze that makes her breath catch. “Same way you’ve been running from this for years.”
Her spine goes rigid. “There is no ‘this.’ What happened up there was what you three demanded. Nothing more.”
“Was it?” I lean forward, studying her face. Flushed cheeks, rapid pulse visible at her throat, pupils still dilated fromadrenaline and something else. “Because from where I was sitting, it felt like a lot more than just following orders.”
She opens her mouth, closes it. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips—the same lips that were inches from mine on that stage—and I track the movement like a predator.
“You told me to dance for you,” she says finally, voice barely above a whisper. “You cornered me in my room and dared me to prove I wasn’t just Charlie’s little sister. So I did.”
“We gave you an option,” Cal corrects, but there’s a playful edge to his voice now, like he’s enjoying watching her squirm. “We didn’t force you to change the staging. You could have kept the single chair, danced for some random stranger.”
“Could I?” Her laugh is sharp, brittle. “When have any of you ever given me a choice that wasactuallya choice?”
The accusation hangs in the air like smoke. There’s truth in it, and we all know it.
“You’re right,” Jace says quietly, and the admission surprises all of us. His voice carries that military precision, but there’s something raw underneath. “We’ve never given you real choices. We’ve manipulated situations, eliminated options, guided you toward what we thought was safe.”
“Then why?—”
“Because we were terrified,” he continues, and now there’s the protector in him showing through. “Terrified of losing you. Terrified of wanting something we couldn’t have. Terrified of admitting that our best friend’s little sister had become the center of our entire world.”
The confession hits her like a physical blow. Her hands grip the edge of the table, knuckles white.
“Don’t say things like that,” she whispers.
“Why not?” Cal reaches out, trails one finger along her bare arm with deliberate slowness. She shivers but doesn’t pull away. “Because it makes it real?”
“Because I don’t know how to handle real.” The words come out broken, honest. “I don’t know how to want this without destroying everything.”
“What if we told you that you already destroyed us?” I ask gently. “That watching you leave six years ago broke something in each of us that never healed?”
Tears start to well in her eyes, and she blinks them back furiously. “Stop.”
“You want to know what I was thinking up there?” Cal continues, his finger still tracing patterns on her skin. His voice takes on that teasing quality that’s purely him. “When you straddled me and rolled that perfect body against mine?”
“Cal—”
