Page 97 of Holding Hope

“Alright, that’s that,” Colton called from the other side of the stall, tightening Andromeda’s tack. “We’ve got about fifteen minutes before showtime.”

I pulled my phone from my back pocket. He was right—fifteen minutes on the countdown. I had time.

“I’ll be back. If I’m not, cover for me, yeah?” I shouted over my shoulder as I sprinted toward the main entrance. Colton yelled something after me, but I was already gone.

I didn’t know where to start looking, but if I knew Avalon—and I did— she’d be somewhere near the food court.

I wove through the crowd, muttering “excuse me” and “sorry” half a dozen times as I followed the scent of sugar and fried dough. The fair-like center of Halston Acres buzzed with noise, lights, and bodies.

I spun in a slow circle, scanning for dark curls, grey-blue eyes, or even those ridiculous boots she insisted on wearing.

Nothing. Ten minutes left. Where are you, Avalon?

I turned back the way I came, this time searching more carefully, eyes darting over every face, every cluster of people, every flash of movement.

Then—

“Oh my God—” someone gasped, colliding with me hard enough to nearly knock me off my feet. “I am so sorry—Clarke.”

Avalon.

Relief washed through me so fast it made me dizzy. Her face lit up the moment our eyes met, her smile blooming like she’d been holding her breath.

“Hi,” she whispered, fumbling for my hand in the dim light.

“Hi,” I whispered back, squeezing her fingers. “I was looking for you.”

She beamed, cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Shut up. I was just looking for you.”

I raised a brow, cupping her face gently. “Were you now?”

She nodded quickly, leaning into my palm. “I wanted to wish you luck. I know this is important to you.”

I tipped her chin up, taking in her face—those grey-blue eyes framed by dark lashes, the freckles across her nose, the perfect pink of her lips. She’d ditched her heavy makeup and bold lipstick days ago, adopting my simpler routine, and somehow she looked even more breathtaking.

“Your presence alone is all the luck I need,” I murmured.

She rocked on her toes, the blush deepening across her nose. “Can we go somewhere quieter?” she asked, glancing around. “Just for a minute. I know the show’s about to start.”

I smirked. “The show can wait. Follow me.” I had six minutes—more than enough. What I really wanted could wait until after the performance, when we’d have privacy and no countdown ticking in my head.

I led her between two vendor tents into a quieter clearing with a few scattered picnic tables. I headed straight for the one farthest from the noise, pulling her along behind me. Even a minute alone with her felt like oxygen.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” I murmured when we reached the table. Avalon hopped up onto the top, bringing us eye-level.

My hands slid up her sides, through the fabric of her clothes, hungry for the warmth of her skin.

How was she even real?

“No time for talking,” she whispered, looping her arms around my neck and pulling me in.

Her lips met mine—soft, warm, grounding and electrifying all at once. She melted into me, her back arching as she pressed her chest against mine.

I kissed her harder, deeper, our mouths moving with a hunger that had been building for days. Teeth grazing, lips tugging — and still, it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

I tugged at the hem of her camisole, lifting it just enough to tease. She giggled, biting her lower lip, eyes sparkling.

“Please,” I breathed, running my thumb across the black-and-white stripes of her bra. I could feel the faint outline of her sharp nipples beneath my finger, the feeling only arousing me further.