Page 49 of Stealing Summer

He took a tentative step toward me. “My feelings for you are real. Please believe that. It may have started over something stupid, but it didn’t take long for me to see you. Really see you. The way your nose wrinkles when you laugh, like it’s laughing along with us. And your eyes...” He reached out as if he wanted to touch my face but thought better of it, letting his hand fall back to his side. “You can see green and gold in your hazel eyes if you look closely. You’re not like any of the other girls around here who always want something from me.”

I blinked, unable to process his words and overwhelmed at the same time. My defenses wavered, wanting to believe him, to drown in the warmth I found in his gaze. I searched his face, looking for any hint of deception. But all I saw was sincerity in his features. I crossed my arms and turned away, fuming. Reese’s words echoed in my ears, but I refused to acknowledge them.

“Why does getting to Boston matter so much? What family history do you have with him?” I asked, desperate to understand what this was all about.

“Who told you we had family history?” He said sharply, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said cautiously, not sure what he would think about me hearing it from Blair.

His eyes clouded over. An impenetrable wall replaced the vulnerability he just displayed. “I—It’s complicated,” he said, frustrated. “There are things about my family, about my past with Boston, that I can’t... I just can’t share them with you. Not right now.”

“You don’t have to say anything else. I get it.” I forced the words out, each syllable tasting more sour than the last. “It doesn’t matter anymore. This,” I said, motioning around us, “all of this started as a lie. And now everything else is tainted. Every talk, every kiss, every moment.”

“Chandler, please just listen—” Reese started, reaching for my hand.

I pulled it back sharply. “Don’t touch me,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “I think you’ve said enough. It’s sad because you ended up being the person everyone told me you would be and I really thought there was good in you. All signs pointed to “Chandler, don’t do it”—and I did it anyway.”

I started walking away when Boston suddenly appeared, his blue eyes blazing. He walked over to Reese, grabbing him roughly by the shirt collar.

“What the hell did you do?” Boston demanded.

Reese shoved him off, his temper flaring. “Back off, Riley. This is between me and her.”

The two squared off, tension crackling. I could see their fists clenched and their jaws tightening. This was seconds away from a full-blown fight.

“Stop it!” I yelled, stepping between them. “Just stop.”

The boys froze, breathing heavily. Boston’s protective gaze found mine.

“Come on,” he said quietly. “I’m taking you home.”

twenty-six

I let out a shaky breath as Boston gently took my hand, leading me away from the tense confrontation with Reese. My pulse was still racing from their near-fight. When we got back inside, I tried to hide my emotions as we walked through the crowd of people.

“Are you okay?” Boston’s voice was soft and concerned. His eyes searched my face for any sign of distress. “Can you sit here for a few minutes? There’s something I need to do.”

“Sure,” I replied, even though I wasn’t sure if I was okay. He led me to a nearby chair, his protective nature radiating off of him.

“Wait here for me,” he instructed with a small, reassuring smile.

I nodded, clutching my hands together in my lap as he turned away. That’s when I saw Reese enter the ballroom, his presence commanding immediate attention. He scanned the room and for a moment; I thought he was searching for me. But before he saw me, Boston stepped into his path.

I couldn’t make out their words, but their body language spoke volumes—it was clear they were arguing.

Despite being across the room, Reese’s dismissive demeanor towards him was palpable. He maintained a relaxed posture, almost provocatively, as if he found Boston amusing.

“What are you talking about?” Boston’s voice finally carried over, laced with frustration as he took a step closer to Reese, invading his space.

Reese’s expression darkened. “I think you should be careful what you say to me,” I could barely hear him say over the music. His eyes blazed with a sudden intensity. “Pretty sure you don’t want me to go there.”

I leaned forward slightly, my breath catching as I watched the intense exchange. Reese said something too quiet for me to catch. His lips barely moving, and then he leaned in, whispering into Boston’s ear. The reaction was immediate and shocking.

Boston’s face drained of color, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. For a moment, he simply stood there, frozen, a statue among the swirling dance of the ballroom. Confusion played across his features, quickly chased by a flash of anger and a shadow of shock, transforming his usually carefree expression into something dark and tumultuous.

Suddenly, it happened—a crack that tore through the room and halted the music as Boston’s fist connected with Reese’s face. The crowd gasped and recoiled as Reese staggered back, his composure slipping for a fraction of a moment. He tightened his jaw, and I saw the subtle tick that betrayed his effort to remain unfazed. Then, using his thumb, he brushed away blood from his lip. His expression morphed into one of dark amusement.

Before I could even process my next move, a voice broke through my shock.

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