BACK TO YOU

I never thought I'd see him again. That's what I told myself, anyway. It was easier that way. If I convinced myself Xavier Sinclair was nothing more than someone from my past, maybe I could actually believe it. I sat in the back of the car, watching London pass by through the window. I'd forgotten how busy it was. Red buses moved between rows of cars, people hurried along the pavements with umbrellas tucked beneath their arms, and familiar buildings seemed to stand exactly where I'd left them years ago. I rested my forehead against the cool glass and sighed, watching the city blur past.

“We're almost there.” Isabella said from the front seat. She glanced at me through the mirror. “You okay?”

“I'm fine.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You said that really quickly.”

“Because i'm fine...?”

Charlie turned around from the passenger seat, looking far too amused. “She's definitely not fine.”

“Thank you Charlie.”

“You're welcome.”

I rolled my eyes and looked back outside. They'd spent the entire drive trying to get me to talk, but I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction. I'd been away for years. Years without seeing him. Years without hearing his voice, seeing that stupidly confident smile, or having him look at me like he somehow knew exactly what I was thinking. And now I was going back to the Sinclair house—the same house where everything had started, and where everything had eventually fallen apart.

My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag. I hated that I was nervous. I hated even more that some part of me had expected this feeling to disappear with time.

“Eve,” Isabella said softly. “He's not going to bite you.”

“I know.”

“You don't have to talk to him.”

“I know.”

Charlie turned around again. “You could also punch him.”

I stared at her. “That's your advice?”

“It's an option.”

Isabella laughed. “Please don't encourage her.”

“I'm just saying.”

Despite myself, I smiled. That was the problem with my sisters. They always knew how to make me laugh when I didn't want to. Isabella had always been the one who noticed when I was hurting, even when I refused to admit it, while Charlie had a talent for saying exactly the wrong thing at exactly the right time.

The car slowed as we turned onto the familiar road. My stomach tightened. I knew this place. I knew the house, the long driveway, the gardens, the huge windows, even the ridiculous fountain that Scarlett had always refused to get rid of. Everything looked almost exactly the same, as though the years I'd spent away had never happened.

Except I wasn't the same girl who had left.

I looked down at my hands. Nineteen now. Older. Different. Supposedly more mature. Yet somehow, sitting in that car, I felt seventeen again. I felt like the girl who used to wait by the stairs just to hear Xavier come home, pretending she had a reason to be there whenever he caught her waiting. The memory came back so easily that I almost wished I could push it away.

“We're here,” Charlie said.

The car stopped.

I took a slow breath before opening the door. The moment my feet touched the ground, the familiar scent of freshly cut grass reached me, bringing back memories I hadn't realized I'd buried so deeply. Before I could take another step, the front door opened.

Scarlett stepped outside.

Her face lit up immediately.

“Evelyn!”

I barely had time to react before she pulled me into a hug. “Oh my goodness, look at you!”

I laughed softly, hugging her back. “Hi, Scarlett.”

“Don't call me Scarlett.” She pulled away and held my shoulders, looking at me over with a smile. “You know better...”

I smiled. “Hi, Mum.”

“That's better.”

Isabella came around the car, followed by Charlie. Scarlett hugged them both before turning her attention back to me. Her smile softened, and for a moment, I could see the same woman I'd remembered from years ago—the woman who had held me together when I hadn't known how to hold myself together.

“I've missed you.”

I swallowed. “I've missed you too.”

And I meant it.

Whatever had happened between Xavier and me, Scarlett had always been different. She had been there for me when I had nobody else. She'd listened when I couldn't find the words to explain how I felt, and she'd never once made me feel like I was too much. She was family. That was the part that made everything so complicated.

My eyes drifted toward the mansion before I could stop them.

“Is he here?”

The question slipped out before I could take it back.

Isabella looked at me. Charlie looked at Isabella. Scarlett went quiet for half a second, and that tiny pause told me everything before she even answered.

“Yes,” she said.

My stomach twisted.

Of course he was. Where else would he be?

“Right.” I adjusted the strap of my bag, pretending I hadn't just asked the question I'd been trying not to ask since we left. “Cool.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Cool?”

“Very cool.”

“You look like you're about to throw up.”

“Charlie.”

“What? I'm being honest.”

I ignored her and walked toward the front door. One step, then another. With every step, the memories became harder to ignore. The hallway where we'd once raced each other. The staircase where I'd spent countless afternoons waiting for him. The room at the end of the corridor where we'd once stayed up talking until sunrise.

Don't think about it...

Don't think about his face. Don't think about his voice. Don't think about the last time you saw him. Most importantly, don't think about the fact that I still remembered exactly how he used to say my name.

I reached the doorway just as footsteps sounded from upstairs.

I stopped.

My fingers curled tighter around my bag. For one ridiculous second, I considered turning around and walking straight back to the car.

Then I heard another step.

I looked up.

And there he was.

Xavier.

For a second, everything around me seemed to disappear. He looked older. Obviously. The boy I remembered had grown into someone sharper, more composed, but there were still little things I recognized—the way he stood with one hand resting against the railing, the slight tilt of his head when he was studying someone, the calmness he wore like nothing in the world could shake him.

His black hair fell slightly over his forehead, and the sleeves of his dark shirt were rolled neatly to his elbows. His green eyes settled on me, and for the first time since I'd arrived, I forgot how to breathe.

He looked exactly like someone I'd spent years trying to forget.

Except there was something different in his expression.

His gaze moved over my face, almost as though he were trying to convince himself I was really standing there. Then his fingers tightened slightly against the railing.

Recognition..

Neither of us said anything.

The silence stretched between us, filled with everything we'd never said and everything I'd spent years trying to leave behind.

Then his eyes narrowed slightly.

Not in anger.

Something else.

“Evelyn.”

Just my name.

That's all he said.

And somehow, after all these years, hearing it in his voice hurt more than I expected.