Page 135 of Lost & Found

“She was gifted,” she said, and this time the nostalgia carried warmth instead of ache. “It was like pure magic. Like when Kinsley dances and Tori plays. There was a passion to it that she couldn’t contain.”

Her hands curled loosely in her lap as if remembering the movement of strings beneath fingers.

“And I could see sometimes she wanted to. Contain it, I mean. Like she wanted to hold back, but she never could.” A faint smile tugged at her mouth. “It had a way of weaving into your soul and stirring emotions you didn’t even know you had.”

She paused, eyes drifting again.

“She and Tori used to play, and Kinsley would dance. I loved those nights the most. I pretended like we were all best friends at a concert performing for our families.”

Something twisted in my chest. I tried to picture—four girls under stage lights, talent pouring out of them, music and movement filling a room. But the reality I knew sat like a stone behind the image.

The four of them had suffered systematic control, abuse, isolation, and exploitation. The contrast made my jaw tighten. What I could see clearly, though, was the bond. It wasn’t fragile or even sentimental. It was molded. Through things I couldn’t comprehend.

“So Winter is your soulmate,” I said. “You four are kindred spirits.”

“Exactly.” Her answer came without hesitation. “We understand one another on a level no one else can, or ever will. No matter how close we become with someone else.” She leaned forward. “We were each other’s silent hope. And joy.” Her gaze lifted to mine. “We’re eternally linked. And as much as I hate what happened to us…through it we were forged. Like a blade. Melded together. Intertwined in an intricate and beautiful way.”

The fire crackled behind her. And for a second, I wondered if she realized how sharp that blade still was. I sat back and let her words settle between us.

“Thank you. For telling me about her. I know that’s not easy.”

Her eyes softened just a fraction. “It’s not.”

We fell into a comfortable silence after that. One that didn’t demand to be filled. We ate in the quiet of our room, fire crackling, ocean murmuring through the screen door. It was intimate in the best way possible.

My emotions were everywhere tonight—the betrayal, the relief, the pull toward her, the conversation about Winter—but her presence anchored me. I hoped mine did the same for her.

“Now that the wedding has been canceled,” I said carefully, “I could see about getting earlier flights home.”

Her fork paused in midair. “About that.”

There was the smallest tell that something more was going on. It was a slight flicker. Her shoulders tightened. She set her fork down. Her fingers curled into the edge of the tablecloth before she caught herself.

“What?” I asked.

She took a breath that didn’t quite fill her lungs. “I was thinking we could go on a road trip.”

A road trip. My spine went rigid before I could stop it. Sebastian’s warning rang loud and clear.

Don’t go traipsing all over the South. Don’t put her in situations you can’t control.

“A road trip?” I repeated evenly.

“Number fourteen on the list,” she said. “I’m ninety-nine percent ready to pencil it in.”

There was trepidation in her every move. She reached for her glass but didn’t drink. Just held it. Her thumb tapped once against the stem.

“Going to share it with me?” I asked.

She was stalling. How fucking cute. But I already suspected where this could lead. And truthfully, I wasn’t sure I was ready to say no to her after she’d just shared with me something so sacred.

“Of course. You’re my accountability partner after all.” She offered a small smile that didn’t quite land. “But I think I should tell you I’ve talked it over with Marcel. At length, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. The first day you went to the intensive.” She swallowed. “I’d have to put it to the family for a vote, though. I guess I’m wondering if you’d back me.”

There it was. This wasn’t spontaneous. My pretty little princess had been planning this.