Page 4

He touches a loose strand of my hair. “I almost didn’t.”

“I know.” I smile before I can stop myself.

His hand stills. I can see him wondering what I mean. Before either of us speaks, the terrace door opens, spilling music and voices into the cold.

“Quarter to midnight!” The mayor raises an arm toward the room behind him. “Don’t miss the unmasking.” He slips back inside, letting the door close behind him.

I touch Holt’s wrist. “We have fifteen minutes,” I say softly.

He looks at me as if I have offered him something he wants too badly to trust.

“I need a minute.” He steps back.

I nod. I don’t want to crowd him. “I’ll be inside.”

He opens the door for me. I pass him, his jacket still around my shoulders, and he watches until I reach the tables.

At five minutes to midnight, I look toward the entrance.

At two minutes to midnight, I go to the terrace only to find the railing is empty.

The crowd behind me starts counting down. I rush to the front entrance, push open the door, and step onto the front steps, searching the pavement, the parked cars, and the dark edge of the square only to find it empty—he’s gone.

When the room erupts in cheers, I stand beneath the porch lamp, pulling his jacket closer. I know whose coat I’m wearing—I just don’t understand why he left me in it, alone and without a word.

five

Holt

My jacket is still on Lara and like a coward, I ran away from the masked ball before I told her who I really am.

I press my palms against my eyes, catch the edge of the mask, take it off, and think about Lara. I have kissed her and held her. Heard her laugh at something I said. How am I supposed to act as if none of that happened?

I want to get back into my truck, head back to the ball, rip off my mask, and tell her who I am. She might be searching for me, wondering what happened. That thought makes me reach for the keys, but shame holds me back. I already left her once tonight. What right do I have to expect her to be happy if I come back? I left without even giving her my name.

I sit on my front porch steps, the silence around me almost too much. I sit there until the motion light above the porch goes dark, coming up with excuse after excuse as to why I was right not to go back to the ball and tell Lara who I am.

In the morning, Julie arrives as I split wood. She stands beside the chopping block, arms folded, waiting for me to put the axe down.

“Where’s the jacket?” She looks past me toward the cabin and the rental suit hanging from the porch. I hung it there as a reminder to take it back, not because seeing it inside my cabin brings back too many memories of last night and Lara.

“With Lara.” I pick up two split logs. Julie says nothing, which is worse than any lecture she could give me. “I left.” I carry the wood to the stack and lay the pieces carefully on top. “Before midnight.”

“I noticed.” She follows me. “Did something happen?”

I brace one hand against the pile. I can still feel Lara’s fingers clenching my shirt.

“It was going well.” I stare at the end of a log. “Then I thought about telling her. About her realizing I was the man who’d spent a year unable to say hello.”

Julie leans against the porch post. “You could have let her decide how she felt about that.” She watches me without smiling.

I nod. I know—that knowledge has kept me up all night.

“She must think I’m an ass.” I run a hand over my beard.

“She probably thinks you owe her an explanation.” Julie pushes away from the post. “Give her one.” She gets in her car without looking back.

Julie’s right—I owe Lara the truth about who she danced with—who she kissed.