“Then I guess that means we found her,” Shiloh declares, and before I can process it, she launches herself at me. I catch her as we spin, breathless and laughing, perfect chaos of hugs and ridiculousness.
Linkin barrels forward before I can finish the laugh, his arms wide. He scoops Shiloh and me up in one ridiculous, perfect bear hug, spinning us until the room tilts and the world is nothing but our laughter. For a second, we’re a tangle of limbs and giggles; Linkin sets us down, and I glance over and see Lucian leaning on the doorway with a small, content smile on his face.
“How did this even happen?” I ask, breathless, still half-laughing, half-in shock.
Shiloh exhales like she’s about to deliver a plot twist. “I swear, it’s like something out of atelenovela, Celeste—”
Shiloh pats Linkin’s shoulder without looking at him. “He was apparently feeling lonely—”
“No, I needed to get away from my cousin,” he corrects.
Shiloh nods, patient as a saint. “Right. So he was lonely, and he flew to Miami because he missed me—”
“I only did that because when I asked Korbyn if she wanted my help moving, all I got was a ‘No,’ and Rowan told me to go bother someone else.” Linkin interrupts again, scandalized. “So I took his advice and bothered Shiloh.”
Shiloh gives him a look that saysyou’re not helping your case, then turns back to me, steady and warm. “Anyway. Heshows up at my house with flowers, because he’sfuckingdramatic, and my family sees him on the porch and immediately decides we’re secretly dating.”
“They even made a Pinterest board for our wedding,” Linkin mutters, pretending to be traumatized.
Shiloh nods solemnly. “A goth one, and honestly, I might steal some of those ideas for when I do find the person I want to marry.”
I choke on a laugh. “Oh, my God.”
“So,” Shiloh continues, calm as ever, “we did the only reasonable thing we could.”
“We ran away,” Linkin says, throwing his hands up. “In the middle of the night, like the fugitives we are. Or, you know… people who don’t want to get married.”
Shiloh shrugs, soft and matter-of-fact. “I texted Lucian to ask if we could come hide out. He said yes, and now here we are.”
Linkin gives me jazz hands as he beams at me like this is all perfectly normal. “Surprise.”
“Now that introductions are done, we need to head out. We’re running behind,” Lucian says, the words soft enough not to scold but sharp enough to move us.
Linkin snaps into a salute as he and Shiloh shuffle past him toward the driveway.
I stay behind as Lucian locks up, the click of the deadbolt sounding final in the quiet. He turns toward me, leans down, and presses a kiss to my forehead. Lucian’s hand finds my waist as he pulls me into a quick hug before guiding me toward the SUV with his palm resting at the small of my back.
The night outside is soft and cool, and the early-evening air smells faintly of pine and distant woodsmoke. Crickets hum in the grass, and porch light spills across the driveway in a warm gold wash, catching on the hood of the SUV.
Lucian opens the passenger door for me, his fingers brushing my elbow as I climb in. As I settle into the seat, excitement blooms low and fizzy in my chest at the promise of a night with my chaotic friends. I wish my sister and Theo could be here too, folded into this ridiculous, perfect mess. But they’re on the other side of the world tonight, having their own adventure. The thought brings an ache to my chest.
Tonight should’ve been the first night of our international tour. If it wasn’t canceled, I’d be backstage in a few short hours, adrenaline humming, waiting for the lights to rise. Part of me aches for that stage so sharply it feels like a bruise. But the person who attacked me is still out there, and stepping into a spotlight would be like daring them to try again.
The engine rumbles as we pull away. I curl my fingers around the seatbelt, grounding myself in the motion, the warmth, the people, and the laughter.
I’m not on a stage tonight. I’m not where I thought I’d be.
But for now, choosing safety has to be enough.
38
Lucian
The hum of the road settles into the SUV like it’s syncing itself to the rhythm sitting under my ribs. My hand rests loose on the wheel, the other stretched across the console just far enough that my fingers brush Celeste’s thigh every time the road curves. Not that she notices, she’s twisted halfway around in her seat, hair spilling over her shoulder, fully absorbed in whatever disaster Linkin and Shiloh are cooking up in the back.
Linkin is in full, indignant storyteller mode. “We went out to the pier for a run to get away from her family,” he says, voice pitched between complaint and disbelief. “We were gone maybe ninety minutes tops. Came back and all her family was there celebrating our engagement.”
Shiloh grins and fills in the rest. “We turned it into a race to the end of the pier. I beat him by a step; he ended up tripping on the last board, and I was already celebrating my win. He took hisdefeat like a man and congratulated me by spinning me around like an idiot. When he set me down, I saw myprimoout of the corner of my eye, standing by the railing. He waved, gave us a thumbs up, then bolted off the pier. We walked back thinking it was funny; thirty minutes later, the whole place had candles, and that’s when I found out about the Pinterest board.”
