The space between us shrinks until I can feel her breath against my jaw. Until the faint sweetness of her shampoo fills my lungs. Until I'm drowning in proximity, and she hasn't even touched me.
Does she feel it?
The electricity crackling between us. The same magnetic pull I've been fighting since the garden, since the moment I saw her again and realized nothing had changed.
She takes a step back, and I let go.
Force distance between us, even though all I want to do is pull her back in, bury my face in her hair, and confess everything.
Keira turns and walks toward a small alcove between buildings, sheltered from the wind by ancient stone.
It's quiet for a long time. I'm sure she won't speak to me again today—maybe not for the rest of the week.
Then, completely out of nowhere:
"Do you ever think about disappearing?"
I'm caught off guard. She asked me this exact question years ago, in a different city. Different life. Same blue eyes searching for something I couldn't give her then.
It's now or never, Tristan.
I shouldn't answer. The second I abandon control, it's over.
"Yes."
She looks up at me. "You do?"
"All the time."
"Where would you go?"
Anywhere you are. Anywhere you want. I'd follow you to the edge of the world and off it if you asked.
"Somewhere with shitty reception and good coffee."
She looks stunned, the words rippling outward and catching on something buried deep. A memory she can't quite reach.
She's staring at me now—not the surface assessment from the waiting room. This is different. Intense. She's trying to see past the beard and the contacts and the years to something underneath.
You're almost there, Red. You can feel me, can't you?
"Have we met before?"
I can't help but laugh, which makes her look defeated. "No, madame."
"Are you sure? What you said was very specific."
"I'd remember a face like yours."
This one isn't a lie.
I remember everything about her. The way she laughed. The way she cried. The way she said my name when we were tangled together in the dark. I remember the exact shade her eyes turnwhen she's happy…and the way they looked when she walked away without glancing back.
I remember all of it.
She shakes her head, and the moment passes. "Sorry. You just remind me of someone. From a long time ago."
The question burns in my throat.
