Picnic tables loaded with food. Kids shrieking as they chase each other through the grass. A bluegrass band playing under the gazebo.
I scan the crowd automatically. Exits first, then faces. My fingers itch for a weapon I'm not carrying.
Everyone seems happy to see me. Everyone seems glad I'm home.
So why does it feel like I'm walking into a kill zone?
Gracie drags me from table to table, reintroducing me to people I half-remember. I shake hands. Smile when I'm supposed to.
Yes, it's good to be home. No, I'm not sure what's next. Still figuring things out.
The lies taste like ash on my tongue.
I'm standing at the lemonade table, calculating how soon I can leave without hurting Gracie's feelings, when the crowd shifts.
And there he is.
My whole body locks up.
Elias Ashford walks through the gathering like he owns every soul in it.
He's wearing a pale blue button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and he looks like something out of a magazine—the kind of man mothers dream about for their daughters.
Yet, this man makes my blood run cold and hot at the same time.
People gravitate toward him. Shaking his hand. Touching his arm. A woman I don't know laughs at something he says, leaning in too close, and I watch his face as he smiles back.
Warm. Charming. Magnetic.
And underneath it all, absolutely empty.
I see it. I've always seen it.
The mask he wears for everyone else, the one that makes them love him.
The thing beneath the mask that makes me want to run.
The fire chief corners him near the dessert table. The mayor joins them. More handshakes, more smiles, more proof that Elias is the best thing that ever happened to this town.
I watch him work the crowd, and ice spreads through my veins.
Then his eyes find mine.
Everything else disappears.
The noise, the music, the smell of barbecue and summer grass—all of it fades until there's nothing but him, thirty feet away, looking at me like I'm the only thing in this world worth seeing.
He smiles.
And my heart slams against my ribs so hard I feel it in my throat.
No.
I hate this.
Hate the way my body responds to him before my brain can catch up.
The way my pulse spikes.
