Page 306 of Wild Card 13

And Buzz asked me to dance. He came up beside me while I stood near the edge of the dance floor, watching Bea laugh at something Micah said, and offered his hand. “Dance with me?”

I looked at his hand. My first instinct was to make a joke. My second was to ask whether this was a bad idea. My third, deeply inconvenient and apparently in charge now, was to put my hand in his.

So I did.

The song was slow enough to be dangerous but not so slow that anyone could accuse us of making a scene. Around us, wedding guests moved in soft circles under the lights. The arena was warm with music and candles and flowers from somewhere far away.

Buzz placed one hand at my waist. I rested my hand on his shoulder and felt the solid heat of him through his tux jacket.

For a few steps, neither of us said anything. Silence with Buzz used to feel like a dare. Now it felt like the truth waiting politely.

“You survived bridesmaid duty,” he said, finally.

“Barely. There was veil math.”

“Vivienne seemed stable.”

I gave him a look.

“Fine.” He smiled. “Stable adjacent.”

We turned slowly. His hand flexed once at my waist, like he had stopped himself from pulling me closer.

My throat tightened. “Ty.”

His name came out softer than I intended. His gaze snapped back to mine.

There he was.

Not Buzz, the winger everyone loved to chirp.

Not the boy who broke my heart because he was too young and scared and stupid to know that silence could do as much damage as betrayal.

The man who fed my dog pup cups and let her adore him.

The man who had waited. And waited. And waited.

His expression changed.

The song kept playing. People kept dancing. Somewhere behind us, someone laughed too loudly.

Ty looked at me for one more breath. Then he took my hand, pulling me off the dance floor.

I followed him past the edge of the reception, past the glow and the flowers and the softened, impossible version of the arena. We slipped through a service hallway where the music turned muffled behind us and the air cooled against my bare shoulders.

My pulse became the loudest thing in the building.

Ty pushed open the loading dock door.

Summer night rushed in.

Warm air. Dark sky. The distant hum of the city. The back-of-house quiet that every arena had when the magic was happening somewhere else.

The loading dock was lit by security lights and spillover from the hallway behind us. Not pretty. Not decorated. Not part of the wedding Stella would report on.

Buzz let the door fall shut behind us. “Lucy,” he said, and it was barely sound.

That was all I got.