"I'm heading out," Shae says eventually, shrugging into her jacket. "Early start tomorrow."
She hugs me, whispers: "You okay?"
I nod. "Yeah. Fine."
She doesn't look convinced. Her eyes flick to Eli, then back. "Call me tomorrow."
"I will."
"I mean it."
She squeezes my hand once, then disappears into the crowd.
I order another drink. The alcohol slides easier this time, smoothing the sharp edges. The tight coil in my chest loosens and laughter comes without effort.
Chace talks about the rodeo circuit, about watching from the sidelines this year instead of competing. A woman calls his name from the pool tables, and his grin returns immediately, the heaviness gone. The conversation dies before it can go deeper.
"Duty calls," he says, grinning. He glances at the empty space where Eli was standing a moment ago, then back at me. "Try not to drink too much while I'm gone."
"No promises."
He laughs and heads toward the pool tables, and I'm suddenly acutely aware of how empty our little corner has become.
Shae left. Chace is across the bar. And Eli—
I glance around, searching. He's nowhere. I can't even remember when he slipped away, just that one moment he was there and the next he wasn't.
The not knowing needles at me more than it should.
I take another sip.
Chace reappears near the pool table, laughing with a group I half-recognize. He catches my eye and lifts his beer in a silent question—you good?
I nod. Wave him off.
I take another drink. Whatever.
When I turn back toward the bar, Eli is there—close enough to make me startle. His hand closes around my elbow, firm and steady.
"Time to go," he says quietly.
I pull back. "You left."
"And I came back." His voice is even. "Let's go, Hazel."
"You don't get to decide when I leave."
His mouth sets in a hard line. "You're done."
"Five years, Eli." The words come out before I can stop them. "Five years and you never came to see me. Not once."
Something flickers across his face—there and gone so fast I almost miss it. Pain, maybe. Or guilt.
He goes very still.
I know I'm the one who left. I know I have no right to be angry about this. But the alcohol loosens something in my chest that's been sitting there since the moment he walked through that door tonight.
"Hazel—"
