Page 45

“Don’t feel like partying inside?”

Dayton strides up beside me, a champagne flute in his hand.

Somewhere inside the ballroom on the Delfina, a luxury cruise owned by Fleur, a string quartet plays a melancholic rendition of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.”

“No. It’s too noisy.”

I stare at the gloomy darkness of the Hudson, listening to the waves slapping against the hull.

It’s an unusually warm winter, no snow in sight, but there’s still a chill in the air.

The night stretches endlessly, the city skyline blazing in the distance, but a fine mist rises from the water.

I shiver.

The peaceful waters are deceptive.

I, of all people, know how deadly it is.

How it almost became my grave.

“You’re different now. The Lexy I knew would be in there partying it up with the best of them.” He motions to the double doors separating the deck and the ballroom where The Orchid’s famous Christmas Ball is in full swing.

“I suppose we all change, even if I was asleep most of the time.”

I used to be sad about how different things were—the people, the relationships, my temperament.

But in the recent months, I’ve accepted this new version of myself.

I’m happy. My feet are finally steady on the ground.

Even if I have a permanent limp and many unanswered questions .

“Change is often forced upon us,” he mutters.

A crack in his voice draws my attention.

His jaw clenches as he stares into the waters.

“Is everything okay, Dayton? You seem stressed.”

His troubled expression clears, and he shakes his head.

“It’s fine. Just problems at work. Remember back in high school, I always wanted to make it? But now that I’m here, I realize things were much simpler back then.”

He gives me his signature grin and nods toward the river, his fingers tapping the railing.

“I’m honestly surprised you came tonight. I thought you’d want to avoid it, since it’s on a cruise in…”

The place where I almost lost my life.

I don’t need him to finish the sentence to know what he’s referring to.

A strange unease wraps itself around my lungs, and I grip the railing tightly.

“Can’t live my life in fear. And you know what? I’m slowly getting over it. Some memories are coming back too.”

The tapping stops.

“Really? That’s amazing. Can you make sense of anything yet?”

“I-I don’t think my car accident was an accident.” I’ve never voiced my concern aloud until now, but it’s been bothering me, the strange snippets I hear, the images.

The bloodcurdling terror.

“Shit.” Dayton’s nostrils flare and brows pinch.

“That must be scary. Are you sure?”

I shake my head.

“Maybe? It’s like getting a few puzzle pieces at a time, and I don’t know how they fit together yet. Maybe when I have them all, the picture will be something unexpected. I wish there’s a way to find the Good Samaritan who saved me. Maybe he or she knows something.”

My fingers twitch, my mind going through the flashes of that night.

I heard screaming in a loud place.

Moaning—but they didn’t sound like pleasurable noises, more like torture.

My lungs burning as I ran.

But where ?

Then the images of me driving, the pouring rain making it impossible to see what’s in front of me.

A phone call, but the voice is blurry—I couldn’t make out who that person was.

But he or she sounded angry.

What happened that night?

A dull throb begins at the base of my neck—another one of those damn headaches.

Suddenly, Dayton clasps his hand over mine and gently tugs it off the railing.

“You look like you were going to break it.” He chuckles.

“You’re brave, Lexy. Maybe you’ve changed, but those guts of yours sure haven’t. It’s amazing.”

I stare at his thumb circling my wrist. Slowly, he lifts my fingers and blows on them, like he’s trying to warm me up.

But instead of warmth sweeping through me, the pain in my head only intensifies.

My lungs constrict.

“Lexy… May I take you on a date?” He kisses the back of my hand.

My eyes fly up to his and just as I open my mouth to respond—

“A sweet reunion, huh?”

I quickly snatch my hand away and turn around.

Ethan stands next to the ballroom doors, looking irresistibly handsome in his tux.

Even from the distance, I sense anger and hurt pulsing off him.

He fists his hands at his sides and his eyes blaze into mine.

“Ethan, I—”

“I thought things changed,” he rasps, his eyes turning into a glacial glare, reminding me of the ice monster who visited me in the hospital.

“It’s all in my head, apparently.”

“We were just chatting. Nothing’s happening.” I step toward him but suddenly stop myself.

Why am I explaining myself to him?

We aren’t anything. Sure, we’ve had a few special moments, but that’s it.

“I wasn’t aware Lexy answered to you.” Dayton steps closer to me.

I tilt my chin up. “I answer to no one but myself. ”

Ethan scoffs and shakes his head.

“No, she doesn’t answer to me and she can damn well take care of herself.” Then, as if catching himself, he straightens and blows out a sharp breath.

“I have a party to host. Excuse me.”

He spins around and disappears inside the ballroom.

I start to follow, but Dayton tugs my arm.

“Lexy, is something going on between you and—”

“I’m sorry, Dayton.” My words come out in a rush.

“I-I don’t feel this way about you. You’re a good friend. I have to go.”

Before he responds, I run back inside, trying to find the infuriating man who occupies my mind and awakens my body.

Chandelier light sears my eyes the moment I step through the doors, the heat from the fireplaces pressing against my skin.

Laughter and clinking of glasses, rustling of bejeweled gowns—everything blurs together as bodies move across the dance floor.

My eyes skate over the throng, trying to find a tall, lonely silhouette.

Ethan’s an introvert.

He’ll be seeking a quiet corner somewhere.

Just then, a clang in the far corner catches my attention.

Rex stumbles, and a champagne flute shatters on the floor.

He flushes and wavers on his feet like he has had one too many drinks.

A few ladies rush up to hold on to him and he unleashes a smile I’ll bet anything is fake.

I frown. What’s going on with him?

“There you are!” Taylor rushes up, her black ball gown sweeping behind her.

“I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“And she’s dragging me along with her.” Olivia grins and shakes her head.

I focus on the girls.

“I just took a breather outside. Do you guys notice anything off with Rex?” I motion to the playboy and his gaggle of women.

He has one arm slung around a brunette’s shoulder and another arm curled around a blonde’s waist.

“No clue. Probably the usual Rex shenanigans.” Taylor shrugs.

I turn to Olivia, finding her gaze riveted on the man, her lips rolling inward.

“Olivia? You okay? What do you think? ”

She blinks and intakes a sharp breath.

“W-What? Oh, I think something is going on with Rex. But then I don’t know him that well, so I shouldn’t assume.”

“A gut feeling or a professional opinion?” Taylor asks, straightening up and glancing at her brother again.

“Both. I’ve seen this behavior before. Charm. Forced smiles. I just—” She shakes her head and faces us, a strained smile on her face.

“Ignore me. Anyway, Taylor and I were looking for you, Lexy.”

“Way to bury the lead, Olivia.” Taylor snorts and jabs her friend’s side.

“This lady here keeps complaining she’s the only single person at the party and I want to hand her off to you and—”

“Hey! I didn’t say that. Lana’s around somewhere too. I just don’t see her. And as happy as I am for you, Tay, I don’t need to see you and Charles undressing each other with your eyes.”

“I’m happy. Well adjusted, as you doctors like to say, you should be thrilled—” Taylor frowns.

“Lexy, is everything okay? You look…off.”

I force out a grin, my eyes resuming the search for her brother.

“Fine. I’m okay. Um, have you seen Ethan?”

Taylor cocks her brow.

Hastily, I add, “Just something about the project at work. He asked me for some stats earlier and I have them now.”

“On Christmas.” She narrows her eyes.

“Bullshit.”

“Have you seen him or not?” I huff out a frustrated breath.

“Not telling you until you explain why you look like you’re ready to strangle me over a simple question.”

That’s it.

Now I do.

“I think I saw him headed toward the library,” Olivia supplies, pointing toward the back of the ship.

“Olivia, traitor! She was going to crack and tell us why she and Ethan are acting weird these days.”

“You can satisfy your need for gossip later.” Olivia steps closer to me.

“Go find him. Give him those… stats .” She winks .

“You’re the best.” I give her a hug and throw out a mocking glare at Taylor, who’s struggling to keep a straight face.

“Not done with you, Tay Tay.”

I take a step when suddenly, blistering agony stabs my head again, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

“You aren’t supposed to be here, young lady.”

My heart jolts up my throat and I back away.

What did I just see?

Ripped clothes. Terror on their faces.

Thrusting and grunting.

I want to throw up.

More screams.

“You okay?” Taylor asks.

Focusing on my breathing, I ride out the throbbing pain before opening my eyes, finding the girls frowning at me with concern.

I nod and dole out a shaky smile.

“I’ll tell you more later, but…I think my memories are coming back, Tay. Something happened that night. I—I only have bits and pieces.”

Her face turns ashen, and she sways on her feet.

Olivia clutches her arm.

“Whoa. Easy.”

“Is everything okay?” Grace rushes up and grabs her sister’s other arm.

I look at my best friend, finding her eyes hollow and haunted.

“You’re remembering it?” she whispers.

Alarm rings through me.

My hold-no-prisoners, badass girlfriend.

I’ve never seen her look so terrified before.

“Tay, what aren’t you telling me?”

Grace says, “I think Tay is just feeling sick. She was complaining about the shrimp cocktail, right?” She darts a frantic look at Olivia.

“Right. That she was,” Olivia murmurs.

The color slowly returns to Taylor’s face, and she lets out a nervous laugh.

“You’d think The Orchid has better food.” She turns around and calls out, “Belle! Over here.”

Belle, Maxwell’s wife, and Millie, Ryland’s girlfriend, glide over, twin smiles on their faces .

“Tell your men they need better chefs for this party,” Taylor grumbles.

Her voice is light, but there’s sweat beading on her forehead.

Belle’s eyes sharpen.

“What did we miss?”

“Tay has a stomachache from the shrimp cocktail, and Lexy is remembering the night of the accident.” Grace strains a smile.

Millie’s breath hitches and the girls exchange a worrisome glance.

Something is terribly wrong.

“Go find Ethan. We’ll take care of Tay and her digestive problems.” Olivia nudges me.

“You guys are acting weird.”

“Even if we are, we can’t tell you anything. Medical trial, right? So, go. Find your man.” She shoos me away.

Unsettled, I cut through the crowd and head toward the library.

My mind swirls with questions and theories and dread knots in my stomach.

Ping.

Eager for a distraction, I whip out my phone from the hidden pocket of my forest-green gown and see a notification.

A new email from Polaris.

He didn’t forget me.

My breath catches and I quickly stop to read his note.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Do you ever want to meet?

Lexy,

I’m sorry for not responding.

It’s not you. It’s me.

What would you do if you loved someone desperately, but they didn’t love you back?

What if you weren’t who they thought you were all along ?

What if these emails meant more to you than they ever did to them?

Would you feel betrayed?

Would I lose you again?

Yours,

Polaris

P.S.

To answer your question—I do want to meet you.

More than anything. But I can’t.

Maybe you’d call me a coward.

Maybe you’d say, “ Be brave, Polaris. Don’t wait to live, because the clock keeps ticking.”

And you’d be right.

But it’s not you. It’s me.

And I’m sorry.

My lungs tighten, squeezing until I’m no longer breathing.

I reread his words, understanding nothing, and yet grasping everything he isn’t saying.

He doesn’t want to meet, but he desperately wants to meet.

I reread it for the third time when suddenly, my eyes sharpen on his words.

In particular, one small line tacked at the very end.

Maybe you’d say, “Be brave, Polaris. Don’t wait to live, because the clock keeps ticking.”

My heart stops.

It can’t be.

But there’s no other explanation.

I remember every single email I’ve sent him and I’ve never included this motto in my messages before.

There’s only one man I’ve mentioned this to in the past.

The man who looked like I gutted him when I woke up from my coma and asked him who he was.

The man whose eyes flashed with hurt and betrayal when he saw Dayton kissing my hand earlier. Ethan.