Chapter 11
The foundation tower ballroom was too bright to hide in.
I'd been set up by the windows like a display piece. Morning light poured through the glass and hit the replica chandelier hanging over the center floor, throwing little gold spots across the marble. My white dress had long sleeves. Someone had chosen it on purpose. The bandage on my left shoulder was taped flat underneath, and every time I moved my arm the edge of it pulled.
My father — the older man with the gray beard — kept his hand at my elbow. Not tight enough to bruise in front of people, just firm enough that I couldn't step away. His dark suit was pressed perfect, the pocket chain catching light when he turned. He smiled for donors like he'd practiced it.
"Our family believes in giving back," he said to a man in a sheriff's uniform. "My daughter wanted to be here herself. Didn't you, sweetheart?"
I nodded. My mouth hurt from smiling. The mark on my wrist had been warm since we'd pulled up to the tower, not the sharp burn from before but a low, steady heat, like a hand held too close to a stove. I tucked my hands together in front of me so no one would see me rub it.
The older woman hovered a few feet behind us. Her cream dress was gone — today she wore a navy skirt suit, pearl earrings still in, emerald brooch pinned at her collar. She didn't protest out loud here. She just watched. When our eyes met she gave me the smallest nod. Remember the plan.
Servers moved around the edges of the room with trays of coffee and little plates of pastries. County commissioners, teachers, two local news people with cameras. A banner overhead read HARLAN FAMILY FOUNDATION — ANNUAL COMMUNITY BREAKFAST. It was supposed to look charitable. It felt like a stage.
I shifted my weight and the heat under my skin spiked. Hotter. Closer.
That was when I saw him.
He came through the service door by the kitchen with a black catering vest over his striped shirt, carrying a bus tub. Dark wavy hair damp at the forehead like he'd been running. Stubble still there. He kept his head down and I almost didn't recognize him until he glanced up.
Our eyes locked for half a second.
My wrist seared.
I sucked in air before I could stop myself. My father felt it — his fingers tightened on my elbow.
"You okay?" he murmured, smile never dropping.
"Fine," I said. "Just need water."
I turned toward the table to cover, and the young man — the one from the car — was already gone, moving behind the buffet line, stacking plates. No one else looked twice at him. Catering staff were invisible at events like this. That was the point.
The older woman drifted over and handed me a bottle of water, her hand brushing mine. Cold. Steadying.
"There's a hallway behind the backdrop," she whispered under the sound of applause as the emcee took the podium. "Service corridor. He knows."
I swallowed. "I felt it. He's here."
"I know," she said. "Breathe through it."
At the podium, my father had stepped up to speak. He left me standing beside an empty chair, but only after giving the older woman a look that said watch her. The crowd turned to him. Cameras flashed.
That was my window.
I pretended to adjust my dress and took three slow steps back, toward the draped foundation banner that hid the service entrance. The heat in my wrist pulled me like a compass. Every step toward that back wall made it pulse harder. Behind the banner I could hear the clink of dishes, low voices, a door opening and closing.
The young man slipped back into view near the coffee station, now holding a pitcher. He didn't look at me directly. He poured for an older couple, then wiped his hands on a towel and rubbed his wrist with his thumb — the same spot. I saw the faint gold light through his skin even in the bright room.
He was ten feet away. Then fifteen as he moved. Then ten again as the crowd shifted.
My father was still talking. "—and as long as this family stands, we take care of our own."
No one noticed the girl in white edging toward the back wall, except the woman in navy who stepped smoothly into the gap I'd left, blocking the view with her shoulder and offering a bright smile to a donor.
I reached the banner. My hand found the gap in the fabric. The service hallway behind it was dim and cool, smelling of coffee grounds and mop water. He was there, just inside the doorway, breathing hard.
We didn't touch. We didn't need to. Being in the same building had been enough to set my whole arm humming. Up close it was almost painful.
He mouthed one word. "Hey."
I mouthed back. "Hey."
Footsteps echoed from the ballroom side. My father's speech was ending. Applause starting.
May you like
He stepped back deeper into the hall. I let the banner fall and turned back to the room, hands clasped tight to hide the glow that was now bright enough I could see it through my sleeve.
We were both inside the tower. No one had seen us together. Not yet.
