Page 43 of Forsaken Oath

As we walk the last block to my car, our fingers intertwined, I can't help but marvel at the strange twist of fate that brought us together again.

In another life, maybe this would be the beginning of a love story. The kind of tale you tell your grandchildren someday, about a chance meeting under the stars that turned into something more. If I were a normal girl, living a normal life, perhaps I’d look back on tonight with a wistful smile, remembering it as the moment everything changed.

But my life is far from normal. And as much as some hidden part of me yearns to see where this connection with Beau could lead, I know it’s a luxury I can’t afford.

Not with the Gauntlet looming on the horizon, the promise of half a million dollars hanging in the balance. I have too much riding on this, too many people counting on me, to let myself getdistracted now. Even by a pair of ocean-blue eyes and a smile that makes my heart skip beats.

As we approach my car, I feel a twinge of regret, knowing our time together is coming to an end. Beau’s hand is warm and solid in mine, his presence both comforting and electrifying. For a few stolen hours, I allowed myself to forget about the weight on my shoulders, the expectations and responsibilities that await me back in Avalon Falls.

With him, tonight, I could just be Eloise. I pretended I was just a regular girl, out at the local block party with a hot guy, hoping he’d kiss her.

But reality is waiting, and I can't hide from it forever.

“This is me.” I jerk my chin toward my car.

Beau glances at my car, then back at me, his eyes roaming over my face as if committing every detail to memory.

“Come with me for a second.” He tugs me toward him, his thumb rubbing slow, maddening circles on the back of my hand. He guides me into the mouth of a narrow greenspace between two darkened storefronts.

The brick walls rise up on either side, cocooning us in shadows. Potted hanging plants cascade down the other side of the wall in a green waterfall. Four red Adirondack chairs arranged in a semicircle, and two raised garden beds rest against the opposite wall.

The summer night air is warm and thick, the distant sounds of the festival a muted buzz in the background.

It’s cozy and romantic and perfect.

My heart races as Beau’s hands find my waist, gently backing me up against the cool brick. His body presses close, the heat of him seeping through the thin fabric of my dress and igniting a fire in my veins.

With the back of his index finger, he pushes a lock of hair off my face. “No more peach?”

I lift my chin, giving him more access. “Faded.”

“And what color is this?” He flips the lock of hair between his fingers like he’s savoring the texture.

“My natural color. My mother always called it dirty dishwater blonde.” What a pretty picture that painted. I’m glad my sisters got their father’s dark color, so they never had to hear all the creative ways our mother insulted me.

He hums under his breath, shuffling forward another half-step. “Nah, this is old-money blonde, Peach.”

Amusement flutters around my ribcage, flitting from one side to the other. “You know no one will understand why you call me that if I don’t have peach-colored hair.”

“Do you like it?” His voice is raspy as he ghosts his lips along my jaw. “When I call youPeach.”

I smirk, not ready to tell him about the excitement that flutters low in my belly every time he says it. “I don’tnotlike it.”

“Careful, baby, I might start thinking you like me,” he teases. “As for everyone else, fuck ’em.”

Beau Carter is charming as hell, and I’m just realizing now that might become a problem for me.

“You know, tonight was fun,” I muse. “More fun than I expected.”

He huffs a laugh against my neck. “C’mon, now, baby, don’t lie to us both.”

My humor fades as I rest my hand on his chest, tapping my index finger twice. “But that’s the thing, Beau. The night’s almost over. And this, it’ll never work between us.”

He shuffles into my space until his chest just brushes mine, his shoulders broad enough to block out most of the streetlights behind him. It should feel intimidating, but it doesn’t. It feels commanding in that hot, protective way, like he’s a barrier between me and the outside world.

But it also brings him close—too close. I want to do something reckless like bury my face in his neck and inhale that leather-and-woods scent of his.

“Never say never,” he murmurs, ghosting his lips along my jawline, the scruff of his beard brushing against my neck in the most delicious way.

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