“All right, proxy bidder,” he called over his shoulder to Cyberpunk Chick, voice echoing slightly. “This is the part where you explain what the hell is going—”
“She won’t be able to,” said a new voice. A familiar voice.
A voice that hit him like a physical blow.
No. Can’t be.
Jack froze.No. No way.He turned slowly. And there she was.
Standing just beyond the edge of the light, features cast in shadow, but he would know that figure anywhere.
Madelaine Archer.
For a second—just one—his brain refused to catch up. Like it was trying to protect him from something too big, too sudden, too heartbreaking.
She looked the same. And yet not.
Her blond hair was shorter than the last time he’d seen her, darker at the ends. Her posture was straighter. There was something in her eyes he didn’t recognize—something older. Harder. Like a battle-weary soldier back home after a lengthy war.
But it was her. It was really her.
His heart slammed so hard within his chest it hurt. He hid a grimace to keep her from seeing how impacted he was by the mere sight of her after so long.
“Hey, Jack,” she said, just like she used to when they were together.
But they were not together. Not anymore. She had left him. Cut him off. Ghosted him.
His resolve hardened.
The shock cracked, the shattered feeling from seconds ago replaced instantly by something hot and sharp and five years overdue.
He let out a short, humorless laugh without even trying. “Hey, Jack?” he echoed. “Hey, Jack?”
Madelaine didn’t flinch. She straightened almost imperceptibly, as if bracing herself to face his considerable anger.
“After five years?” he went on, voice rising. “You disappear without a word, break my heart into about a thousand pieces, and you come back with, ‘Hey, Jack’?”
“I understand you’re upset, but I didn’t disappear without a reason.”
“Funny,” he snapped. “Because from where I was standing, that’s exactly what you did.”
Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.
Jack took a step closer. Then another. He stopped just out of reach.
“Where were you all this time?” he demanded. “What happened? Why—” His voice caught, just for a second. “Why wasn’t I worth an explanation?”
Madelaine’s composure seemed to waiver.
“I’m sorry, Jack.” Her eyes closed for a second, then popped open. “I couldn’t tell you.”
“Couldn’t,” he repeated. “Or wouldn’t?”
Her jaw tightened. One delicate shoulder lifted in half a shrug. “Actually, both.”
He shook his head, emotions burning through him.
“Unbelievable.”
