Since 1998

Chapter 11

"I’m glad you’re okay," Devin whispered. He pulled her into a tight, grounding embrace.

He took most of her weight, asking if she could actually stand. Rain was already washing a thin streak of blood down her cheek, and the sight of it sent him into a quiet panic.

Without waiting for an answer, he scooped her up and headed for the porch, his wet fingers fumbling and cursing at his keys.

Allison didn't say a word as the lock clicked. He has the key. Seeing her kite sitting there inside finally clicked, it wasn't a coincidence.

He didn't stop until they reached the master bedroom.

He set her down gently on the edge of the mattress, right next to the kite. His hands were surprisingly steady as he started cleaning the cut on her brow, though his face told a different story.

"You fool," he gritted out, his voice thick with the kind of worry he was trying to hide. "Why would you do that?"

"Do what? The window?"

"No." Devin pressed the bandage down and caught her gaze, holding it. "The disguise. That whole 'Lisa' act." A small, relieved grin finally broke through his tension, though it looked like it hurt to admit it was funny.

He draped a heavy, dry towel over her shoulders to stop the shivering. "We can't stay," he said, turning toward the dresser. "Your parents and the police are already patrolling the coast. If they find us here..." He didn't finish the thought, instead pulling a pile of clothes from a drawer. "Change. We need to move."

"Oh, come on," Allison murmured, her chest tight with disappointment. "I thought we could stay until morning."

Devin went dead still, his hand still inside the open drawer. "Allison... we aren't kids anymore."

"So it's completely different now?" She looked at her lap.

She reached for the clothes, but a sudden gust of wind slammed against the house. Thunder followed immediately, a crack so loud the floorboards vibrated. Before she could think, Allison was off the bed and pressed against him, her arms locked around his waist.

Devin didn't move away. He held her back, staring out at the bruised, purple sky. To him, the storm felt like an answer, a sign that six years of waiting had been leading to this exact moment.

"Alright," he admitted softly. "That’s not exactly a good sign to leave."

The freezing cling of her clothes seemed to fade against his warmth. As the wind shifted into a howl, he reluctantly let go to lock down the windows.

They were stuck.

"I guess we don't have a choice," Allison said. She took the clothes toward the dressing room, a soft sigh trailing behind her.

"Yeah," Devin said, his eyes following her. "We're here until the sun comes up."

She came back out a few minutes later, buried in his oversized hoodie and sweats. "I need to dry my clothes for tomorrow," she said, clutching the wet pile.

"Let me take them."

"No! I've got it," she snapped back, a spark of the old, stubborn Allison returning.

Devin raised his hands in defeat. "The laundry is downstairs. But eat first, you’re probably starving."

Soon, the kitchen smelled of hot ramen.

"Tell me about this place," Allison said between bites of broth. "It’s... well, 'magnificent' words are not enough, really."

Devin’s spoon paused. "You think so?"

"Mhm." She stirred her noodles, a tiny laugh escaping her. "It looks like the kind of house someone builds when they're planning to get married."

Devin looked her straight in the eyes, his expression unreadable. "I am, Allison."

Her heart did a wild, uncomfortable flip. She looked down fast, feeling the heat climb up her neck. "Oh," she laughed, high and nervous, retreating into the only safe ground left. "God, I missed my best friend."

Best friend. Devin felt his stomach drop, but he kept his face neutral. It’s just a word, he told himself. It doesn't change how she's looking at me.

"The last time we were together was six years ago," Allison continued quietly. "That... it really stayed with me."

A soft, knowing smile passed between them. "It stayed with me, too," he replied.

"And I'm glad you wrote," she whispered. "It meant you hadn't forgotten."

Devin’s smile deepened, holding back a dozen truths he wasn't ready to say out loud. "I couldn't have forgotten even if I’d tried."

Meanwhile, across town...

At Rafael’s place, the news of the missing heiress, Daniel’s supposed fiancée, filtered through the radio.

"Listen to that, Rafael. That’s my opening." Daniel pointed at the speakers.

Rafael looked up, but the girl sitting between them beat him to it. She flicked ash from her cigarette and squinted at Daniel. "Opening for what?"

"I don’t have to hide here tomorrow. The engagement dinner is dead in the water. The Ainsley heiress is gone." Daniel let a smirk tug at his mouth. "The brat probably ran off with some nobody."

"I don't get why you're dumping an heiress, Daniel," Rafael muttered. "Isn't that the whole point? It’s a privilege."

Monique cut in, "Wait, you're about to be engaged, and you're actually running away?"

"Yes. All elite women are the same, they throw a tantrum the second they don't get their way."

"What about me?" Monique asked.

"You're no different."

Rafael chuckled. "I wonder what you’re actually looking for. An assassin?"

Daniel shrugged. "Why not? Someone as tough as me. Sounds like a hell of a lot more fun."

"Shut up! You promised to take me home," Monique complained. "Why don't you just train me instead?"

Daniel looked her up and down. "You think you could pass my mother’s standards?"

"Why not? I'm sexy, I'm beautiful—"

"You have no idea."

Rafael laughed, a dark memory surfacing. "She's impossible to please. You better not even show up. You’ll just get insulted. I've seen Olivia drag a woman across the floor by her hair while she was stark naked."

"Seriously? Well," Monique shrugged, "ain't your mom a psycho?"

Daniel smirked.