But closer.
When I finally came out, I was shivering. My hair streamed down my back. The diamonds in my ears caught the moonlight when I turned my head, flashing tiny sparks against the dark.
“I’m going up to bed,” I called toward the fire.
Regan looked over. “Shower first. And don’t walk around barefoot near the rocks.”
“Yes, Mom.”
She smiled.
It came out before I had time to realize what I’d said.
For a second, both of us felt it.
Then she lifted her glass. “Good answer.”
I turned before I could cry again.
The outdoor shower sat up the beach path, tucked behind palms and flowering vines near the side of the villa. The path was lit by low lanterns, soft gold circles spilling over stone. I walked slowly, arms wrapped around myself, salt drying on my skin, my wet hair dripping down my spine.
Halfway up, a hand closed gently around my wrist.
I gasped as I was pulled behind a palm tree.
A warm hand covered my mouth before I could scream.
“Easy,” a familiar voice murmured near my ear. “Didn’t think I’d forget your birthday, did you, Beautiful?”
My whole body went still.
Then weak.
Dylan.
He lowered his hand immediately.
I turned, heart slamming against my ribs.
He stood in the shadows between the palms, wet-haired and barefoot, wearing dark swim trunks and an open shirt that clung damply to his shoulders. His face was clean-shaven still, moonlight catching along his jaw. His hair dripped like he had been in the ocean too, and his eyes—those stupid, dangerous eyes—moved over my face like he had been trying not to look at me for days and had finally lost the fight.
“You scared me,” I whispered.
His mouth tilted faintly. “Liar.”
“Okay, you startled me.”
“Better.”
I should have stepped back.
I didn’t.
The night wrapped around us, warm and secret. Behind us, the fire crackled in the distance. Ahead, the villa glowed through leaves and shadow. Close enough that anyone could come looking.
Far enough that, for one impossible second, it felt like the world had narrowed to him.
“I was told to stay away,” he said.
