Page 78 of Trustfall

I force myself to turn away from him and walk down the hall with my brother. The next hour is spent in a whirlwind of expensive aftershave and blonde updos, getting caught by various acquaintances of my father who want to know what’s new in my life since I last saw them a year ago. Are you still working at that hospital? Yes. Are you going to join the company? No. Are you seeing anyone special?Special doesn’t even cover it, but I may have just ruined it anyway.I have no idea what Luke is thinking right now, and all I want to do is talk to him. The irony of that doesn’t escape me. I want him to know I’m not giving up on us, and I will tell Nate eventually.

I finally get away from Mrs. Evans, who has casually mentioned about five times that her son has taken up sculpting and isreallygood with his hands. Will these people stop at nothing to whore out their children?Jesus.The cocktail reception is almost over, so the plated dinner and speeches will start soon. I need to talk to Luke before then, but I don’t see him or Allie anywhere.

I spot Ashton heading toward me, his light brown hair perfectly styled and a twinkle in his eye.

“Hey, partner in crime,” he says as he slides up next to me. “You look like you’re ready to walk down the aisle.”

“Don’t remind me,” I mutter. “Have you seen Allie anywhere?”

His eyes flash with heat at the mention of her name, but he suppresses it and attempts to look unbothered.

“Nope.” He gets that mischievous look he sometimes gets. “I haven’t had the pleasure yet tonight.”

I roll my eyes at him. I don’t have time for whatever cat-and-mouse game they have going on. I need to find Luke.

“Okay, well I’m going to go circle around and see if I can find them.”

“Them?”

“Her,” I correct myself. I don’t feel like explaining everything to Ashton right now.

I give him a little wave and head to the backyard where dinner will be served. Maybe they went out early to find their seats. As I’m making my way to the lanai doors that overlook the back patio, one of my dad’s assistants, Casey—I think her name is—stops me.

“Hey, Emory. I’m so sorry to ask you this, but some of the candles on the tables went out. Your father wanted battery-operated ones after the incident last year.” She puts down the tray of glasses she’s carrying. “Anyway, I stashed a bunch of extra ones in the gazebo. Any chance you could grab them for me? I have some fires to put out over here. Not real ones, like last year, of course,” she clarifies, giggling nervously. “But you know?—”

“Of course,” I interrupt her. “I’m happy to help. I’ll go get them now.”

She looks relieved as she picks up the tray of glasses again. “Thank you, Em! You’re a godsend,” she gushes before scurrying away.

Shit, I still need to find Luke. I take a quick peek outside, but there are only a few older men smoking cigars on the balcony. I let out an exasperated sigh and head out to the gazebo.

The white box of candles is behind one of the benches. It’s dark now, and the moonlight shines through the openings, casting shadows along the wooden beams. I bend over to pick up the box, but freeze when I hear a shuffling sound behind me, like footsteps on wood. I drop the box, quickly jerking around to see what made the noise.

And there he is, standing at the entrance of the gazebo. Despite the darkness outside, between the moonlight and the twinkle lights, I can see him clearly. He looks the same as the last time I saw him, but now he has a deep reddish-purple bruise under his right eye, framed by his messy blonde waves. It’s fresh, not like the fading ones I saw last time. His disheveled appearance is further manifested by his loosened tie and untucked shirt.

Jaxon.

Fear bubbles up from my stomach and it’s that same feeling I had in the hallway with Mason. Fight or flight. Just like last time, there is nowhere to run. Jaxon is blocking the entryway of the gazebo.

“Jaxon.”

He puts his hands up as though to appear non-threatening. “I just want to talk, Emory. You’re a hard girl to get alone. Luckily, I saw you coming out here just in time.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“It was wrong of me to pressure you last time,” he goes on as if I didn’t say anything, “I wasn’t very nice that evening. But I’m ready to be nice now. Don’t you want me to be nice?”

He starts to inch closer, and I can smell the booze emanating from him. He’s drunk. The whites of his eyes are streaked with red. Probably high, too. I go to grab my phone from my clutch, but it’s still on the bench behind me where I put it down to pick up the box of candles.

“Emory. Princess,” he says, sliding closer. “Remember how nice I was when you were good? When you listened and did what you were supposed to do? It’s only when you were bad that I had to punish you. But I never hit you. I never forced myself on you. I’m not my father. I’ll never be like that piece of shit.” He spits, and a glob of saliva lands on the side of one of the benches, sliding down slowly and pooling on the wooden floor beneath it. My eyes flick to it and then back up to him.

“Jaxon. Let’s go inside and talk,” I try.

“No. I’m done with those assholes.”

Change the subject. Deflect. Distract him.

“What happened to your cheek?” I ask gently.

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