He pales and shakes his head. “No, this was done a long time ago, Briar.”
“How do you know that?”
“Hey, I need your help with this, come on,” Callum interrupts, and Grahm quickly acts like we weren’t just having a deep conversation about important shit.
What does it mean if I had a tracker? I smooth my hand around the back of my neck and frown. This was way deeper than I wanted to get. I try to push it to the back of my mind until we can talk more tonight.
“I’ll be dancing by the speakers,” I say to them both as I trudge up the hill. There’s a dusting of snow on the ground and soft flakes that fall aimlessly from the sky. It couldn’t be a better night to let the world fall to the back of my mind.
For the briefest of moments, I wonder where Icarus is. Did they end their mission? Did they get what they wanted?
“Stay where I can see you, Briar,” Callum calls out as he watches me walk ahead.
I give him a fake smile and nod. He knows I won’t do anything to lose my “upstairs” privileges.
I’m not used to the higher elevation and how it fucks with the weather. It’s fall, and yet ?there’re already nights dipping below thirty and mild snowstorms.
My eyes focus on my boots as I make it up the hill. It’s strange, I don’t remember ever being in the forest during the onset of snowy nights, but the scent of pines and the brisk dryness of the air and snow stirs a familiarity within me.
I shake the feeling and focus on just dancing.
The music booms through the crowd. It’s warm with all the bodies and the usual bonfire. The sun has already set, and every other person is at least three beers into their night.
I put my hands in the air and rock my hips. Two songs into the evening and someone is already behind me, wrapping their hands with mine in the air. A sensual smile pulls at my lips.
I almost feel bad because they have no idea what kind of shit show they’re walking into with me.
Their fingers glide down my wrists, slowly feeling my skin and gently exploring the scars along my arms. It sends chills through my entire body, and butterflies flutter through my stomach.
They dip down and place their lips close to my ear.
“Hey, Squirt.” His voice is broken.
A sharp breath tears through my chest, and I abruptly put distance between us. I whirl, glaring at the man standing before me.
Roman.
He looks like a wreck. His eyes are dark, and redness blooms around them like he’s been suffering. It’s almost enough to make me laugh. How dare he be tortured by his own design.
I don’t know what to say to him.
He clearly doesn’t know what to say to me either.
We stare at each other as the bodies dance around us and blur until all that’s in focus is us.
He firms his lips, and tears brim in his eyes. He opens his mouth a few times to say things he can’t give words to.
I don’t know how to react. My heart is at war with everything in my head. He left me to die.
“Briar.” Roman finally gets the word out as he takes a step toward me and reaches for my hand.
I take a step back, eyes widening with the rush of emotions that have evaded me for weeks—seeing him breaks something deep inside me. “How dare you touch the scars that you allowed to grow?,” I say with a shaky breath, drawing my hands to my chest to comfort myself.
Roman’s tears build more, and he shakes his head with guilt, biting his lower lip. “Briar, I?—”
“You left me!” I shout, startling him and bringing his attention back to my face.
His misery is contagious. “I know,” he chokes out, tears streaming down his cheeks and wrenching at my heart.
