The spell breaks like glass. Scottie’s eyes go wide with a flash of pure panic. She shoves back from me and gives me a look that’s half apology, half order. “Go! Now!”
I slip out of the tent, blood rushing in my ears, and weave through the crowd back to the signing table, dropping to my seat as my world tilts.
“Where were you?” Logan asks, looking up from signing.
“Sharpie emergency,” I say. A kid thrusts something in front of my face, and I sign it without registering what it is. When I pass it back, I peer over the kids’ heads.
And that’s when I spot Jake.
He steps over the rope without even looking at it, moving past fans like they’re ants at a picnic.
Scottie has emerged from the tent, and she’s looking at her clipboard, ready to be “surprised.”
And all I get to do is watch.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Scottie
Ican sense the moment the crowd’s energy shifts toward me. I’m pretending to work on my iPad so Jake can “surprise” me for the cameras and get his perfect moment.
I wish I didn’t have to give it to him.
I look up from my iPad, like I’m just noticing the crowds and not looking for Lucas.
He’s standing behind the rope at his signing table, his head angled down but his eyes peeking up at me over his sunglasses. He’s not angry. Not devastated.
Just still.
Like he’s not anticipating me kissing someone else in ten seconds.
He’s so good at this. So steady, so cool, so exactly what I asked him to be—but standing here waiting for Jake’s arms to come around me, his stillness isn’t comfort.
It’s the most painful thing I’ve ever watched.
A yearning hits me so hard it almost startles me—not for a scene, not for drama, just for him to walk over and stand next to me like he has the right to. Consequences be hanged.
How dare I want that?
My two conflicting directives come to mind:stop holding back.
Don’t cross lines.
I gave him both at the same time, expecting him to figure out what I can’t.
And now I’m standing here realizing I’ve been protecting Jake at Lucas’s expense and calling it the right thing to do.
Is it hurting Lucas as much as it’s hurting me?
Jake’s only two feet away from me, and I make a decision.
I turn my head toward him, drop my mouth, and gasp.
“Jakey!” I say.
“Hot Stuff!” he calls back, opening his arms for a hug.
But I don’t give it to him. Instead, I grab his hand while flashbulbs go off around us and tug him toward the tent.
