“That song’s not on your official album. You never released it.”
“I perform surprise songs all the time. No one will find that strange.”
“But theywillanalyze it. They do all the time.”
“The lyrics don’t say, ‘Sydney Cossette is a secret agent.’”
Sydney threw her hands up. “You draw attention to those closest to you when you hint at your love life like that, especially with the way you turned in my direction at specific parts in the song.”
He frowned at her. “You’re that afraid of the song?”
“Of you blowing the damn lid off our cover, yes.”
“I don’t think that’s why you’re scared.”
“Well, it is.” She tore her eyes away. “Your ex-girlfriend is here with you as your date. We’re about to risk our lives tomorrow. Why are you releasing this songnow?Why add to all this?” She turned back to him and pressed a finger into his chest. “Were you planning to put that song in your original set list before we arrived?”
“No,” he said.
“You added it after our conversation, didn’t you?”
“I’m sorry, all right?” he snapped. “It’s a spontaneous interlude. I have one in every concert. I didn’t think it’d bother you. After our talk… I thought, well, never mind. If it concerns you that much, I won’t perform it anymore. It’ll never see the light of day again.”
“Why does it matter so much to you, anyway?” Everything seemed to hurtle out of her. “It’s just a song.”
She seemed to regret her words the instant they came out, but it was too late. Winter winced and took a step away from her. Her statement stirred the whispers that haunted him all his life, echoing the conversation he’d just had with his father.
You’re just smoke and mirrors. You’re nothing.
“It’s not just a song,” he said quietly.
She paused, taking a deep breath, and lowered her voice. “Look, Winter,” she said. “It’s not even the song. But we’re on a mission together—have you forgotten that?”
He closed his eyes. Everything in his chest felt ready to boil over.
“That’s our purpose, nothing more,” she went on. There were tears shining in her eyes now. “So why did you do it?”
“Because I’ve thought about you every single day since London!” he blurted out.
Sydney flinched as if she’d been struck. “What? No, you haven’t.”
But Winter couldn’t stop anymore. Too much had happened—Gavi’s betrayal, his father’s cruel words, this. A dam had broken in him, and he had no desire to fix it. He was tired of bottling it all up. He was tired of holding himself together. “I tried my best, you know,” he said in a low, urgent voice. “Every day, I wished you would show up unannounced on my doorstep or in my practice room or anywhere I happened to be, and whisk me back into your world. Every day, I missed you. And you know what? I was okay with that. I’m not a fool. I know we aren’t meant to be,and I was ready to move on. Then you appeared out of nowhere and pulled me right back in, and now we’re here and I have no idea what to do. I tried my best, but now I think I’m losing my mind. So I sang the damn song, okay?”
“Stop,” she whispered.
He held up his hands. “I know what I’m saying. I know how it sounds. I get that this, whatever this is between us, is a dead end. I know I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve any of this. But I’m telling you right now that I’ve had a hell of a time getting you out of my head. And when you came back, everything I’d done to wall myself away from you came crashing down. That song is all I have of you, some private illusion that I might ever get a chance with you.” His voice faded to a murmur. “That’s all it is. I need you to understand that.”
He felt foolish the instant he stopped talking. Dameon had always told him he was good at keeping his secrets close—why couldn’t he keep this one? But it was too late to take any of it back now.
Sydney just stared at him, her eyes the color of a storm, her lips pressed tight. He couldn’t tell what she thought of him now, whether or not she could make out the hurt that he knew must be on his face. He swallowed hard. Suddenly, he couldn’t bear looking at her. His eyes turned down. He took in the pattern on the rug of his suite, forcing himself to follow the fabric’s lines, as if it might lead him out of this torturous place.
After another agonizing silence, Sydney took a deep breath. Winter looked back up to see her turn away. “I can’t do this,” she whispered.
He barely caught her words. As she headed to the door, everything in him wanted to tell her to stop, to wait, that he didn’t mean any of that, that he didn’t know what he was thinking.
But he stayed frozen where he was.
I can’t do this.
