Until he sees me.
His entire body goes still. Like someone pressed pause.
Ethan follows his line of sight, mutters “Oh, shit,” under his breath, and claps him on the shoulder like a warning.
Jace doesn’t move.
Neither do I.
His eyes lock on mine from halfway across the room, and the impact hits me so hard my breath stumbles.
I force myself to turn back toward Brian, who’s mid-story about his sister’s wedding.
“—and then the bridesmaid fainted because the venue forgot to turn the AC on, can you believe… Are you okay?”
I nod too fast. “Yeah. Just warm in here.”
Lie. My heart is pounding in my throat. My hands won’t stop shaking. I curl them around my glass to hide it.
I shouldn’t look again, but I can’t help it.
I look again.
Jace is still staring at me. His jaw tight. His hands fisted at his sides. Eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them. Ethan says something to him, low, but he doesn’t react.
He’s locked in place, watching me like the room is on fire.
Brian reaches across the table and touches my arm lightly to get my attention.
I jump.
His brows pinch. “Seriously, are you okay?”
Before I can answer, Jace steps forward like he might come over. Ethan grabs his sleeve subtly, a quiet “Don’t” on his lips.
The jealousy on Jace’s face is unmistakable. Sharp. Raw. Like it’s carved into him.
My skin prickles. My chest hurts. I swallow hard and try to listen to Brian, who is now telling me about his marathon training.
“Sarah. Hey.” He chuckles softly. “Did I lose you?”
“Sorry,” I murmur. “I’m just… distracted.”
He laughs, easygoing. “Long week?”
“Something like that.”
I can feel Jace’s stare burning into the side of my face. Every time Brian leans in to say something, every laugh, every casual touch to my elbow when he makes a point… I feel Jace’s reaction without even looking.
I finally look over again and he’s gripping the edge of the bar so tightly his knuckles are white. One of the guys says something and he barely flicks his gaze their way before settling back on me.
My heart breaks a little.
Because I shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t care. We shouldn’t be here, in this stupid bar, ripping ourselves open over nothing and everything.
But we are.
Brian keeps talking. I try to follow along, nodding at the right moments, but my attention keeps snagging on little details.
