Page 28 of I’ll Find You

I choke slightly on my drink, laughing. “That’s not—” I start, but Ezra cuts in.

“It is. He literally just did it earlier.”

Her laughter slows as something clicks. I see it when it happens. “Oh my God,” she murmurs. “You did.”

I drag a hand down my face. “I’m going to kill you.”

“Relax,” Ezra says coolly. “She already likes you.”

His words register, and when I glance over at Rose, she's already looking my way. My arm drapes along the back of the booth behind her. Neither of us looks away. Across the table, Ezra watches the entire exchange, witnessing something unfold in real time.

“Yep,” he mutters. “Thought so.” Then he perks up immediately. “Okay, now that that’s all cleared up, we celebrate properly.” Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“That sounds dangerous,” she counters.

“It could be,” I say, my voice low.

My hand slides along the back of the booth, this time closer. Not touching, but close enough that she knows I’m there.

“We’re not doing anything stupid,” I say.

Ezra raises an eyebrow. “Define stupid.”

“Anything you suggest,” Rose jumps in, laughing.

He lifts his glass again. I barely notice. As I lean back, my shoulder brushes hers. She shifts a little closer without thinking, fitting against my side as though she'd always belonged there. All I'm aware of is her. For the first time all day, I let myself believe maybe I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

Chapter

Seventeen

Rose

The night air hits me the moment we step out of Margaritas. It's cool and biting against my overheated skin, as if the heat burns somewhere deeper beneath my flesh and refuses to let up. Sitting beside Alex all night, close enough to feel him there, has left me restless. Something lingers just beneath the surface, pressing at the edges of my thoughts, asking to be acknowledged, and I'm not ready to give it a name.

For years, I've convinced myself that distance was safety. That detachment was strength. Love wasn't something to embrace but something to dissect, reduce to logic, understand well enough to avoid at all costs. Because once your heart is involved, control slips through your fingers. It can crack you open in ways nothing else can. So I buried my feelings. Not because I didn't have them, but because I did. I learned to press them down so deeply that no one could ever use them against me.

Yet, this feeling is not fear. It doesn't belong to the crowded restaurant, the lingering spice on my tongue, or the beer I slowly nursed through dinner. It belongs to him. Maybe it was always him. Even now, no longer tucked beneath the shelter of his arm, I still hold his hand with a certainty I don't understand, as though letting go would unravel something essential inside me. Whatever exists between us doesn't feel like a choice anymore.

I chose to be with Maxwell. I knew I didn’t love him, but this is different. It's as if something has been waiting for me all along, as patiently as Alex has. And now that I've touched him, held him, kissed him, I crave him. I’m no longer certain I can turn away.

Neither of us says anything. The stillness of the woodsy landscape beneath a blanketed, star-strewn sky feels intoxicating compared to the noise and artificial lighting we just left behind. I inhale deeply, letting the cool air fill my lungs, trying to hold onto the calm that washes over me when I’m near him. But despite the wide open space, all I can breathe is him.

The scent of musk and cedar lingers in the air around us, comforting and familiar, bringing back memories of nights spent beneath open skies, wrapped in the gentle lull of nature while camping with my aunt. On a night such as this, I almost wish we were out there. To be far away from everything, where the world feels simpler, and nothing exists beyond the stretch of stars above and the warmth of a campfire beside you. Instead, I stand here, caught between what I know and what I feel, holding onto him, the only thing making me feel way too much. And for the first time, I’m not sure I want to let go.

“Which way?” Ezra asks from behind us, disrupting my thoughts, scattering them like water slipping from my hands. I’d followed them earlier, but the place had been packed, forcing us to park farther apart than expected. I offered to drive us home, an excuse really, since they’d both had a couple of drinks and I’d limited myself to one beer hours ago. The scent of hard liquor, especially whiskey, has a way of permeating the air, reaching places I'd rather forget.

I’ve learned to keep my distance from it. Alex only had a couple of beers. I know he did it tonight, for his birthday, and also because of his cousin. I crook my finger at Ezra, motioning for him to follow. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Alex smiling. Ezra’s brows shoot up in surprise, but he falls in step behind us anyway.

“Over here,” I say, pointing toward the row where I left my car, my voice softer now away from the noise, as the night seems to stretch around us, swallowing the last echoes of my laughter from the restaurant. Alex’s hand brushes the small of my back as he releases me, allowing me to move ahead of him, guiding us through the narrow passage between parked cars, the dim glow of the overhead lights casting long shadows that seem to stretch with every step. I retrace the path without thinking, my body remembering what my mind hasn’t yet caught up to. The sudden absence of his warmth makes me glance back. That's when I find him standing perfectly still.

His head tilts to the side, and his eyes roam, taking in our surroundings with acute attention. Then his expression changes. In two quick strides, he's at my side, his hand coming down on my shoulder, firm enough to stop me before I can take another step forward. When I ask what he’s seen, I find his attention already elsewhere. His focus sharpens into something I've never seen before. Fear. I follow his gaze, slowly taking in what he’s already assessing in his mind, but I don’t get the chance.

He steps in front of me without a word, his hand finding mine again and closing around it in a tight hold. This time, it carries a purpose that feels less comforting and more restraining as he guides me into a single-file line.

“Alex,” I begin before he cuts me off with a finger to his lips. We move slowly, and I trail behind him as we creep forward. His movements are controlled, measured, as though whatever lies ahead needs to be approached with caution. Then I see what has his hackles rising. The driver’s side door of my car sits slightly ajar, just enough to break the clean line of the parked vehicles. It’s just enough to feel wrong in the way I cannot immediately explain, but recognize all the same. “I didn’t—” My voice falters, unraveling at the edges as the realization takes hold. “I didn’t leave it like that.” This is what he noticed when he stopped me.

“What the fuck?” I hear Ezra say. Alex doesn’t say anything. He releases me and moves before I can stop him. His focus is already locked on whatever lies ahead in the car, as if it has claimed his interest completely.