Page 93 of The Backup

Her lips curve into a knowing smile, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she clinks her drink against mine. “It’s Halloween, Sloane. We’re going to have an amazing time tonight.”

“I know,” I murmur, plastering a smile on my face.

I laugh softly as the pre-game buzz continues around me, but my thoughts remain stubbornly stuck on Asher.

I check my phone, like I used to, hoping to see some message from him, but there’s nothing. Of course.

Am I really just afraid to be happy?

The house is packed when we arrive, music thumping loud enough to rattle the windows. I adjust my glasses nervously, feeling both exposed and exhilarated in my outfit.

“Relax,” Jacklyn whispers as we step inside. “You look incredible.”

I nod, trying to play it cool, but my heart pounds as I scan the crowd.

And then I see them.

Joe, standing by the bar in a football uniform—of course—laughing a little too loudly.

And Asher.

He’s leaning against the wall in a bomber jacket, aviator shades perched on his head, and a fake mustache completing the Top Gun look. The sight of him makes my knees feel like jelly.

For a moment, I can’t move, caught between wanting to run and wanting to walk straight to him.

Jacklyn grabs my arm, pulling me toward the kitchen. “Come on. Let’s get a drink before you start making out with him in public.”

“Jacklyn!” I hiss, but she just winks and disappears into the crowd.

I glance back at Asher, and for a brief second, his eyes meet mine.

Here we go.

thirty

. . .

Asher

The party is alreadyin full swing by the time I get there. Music pumps through the house, lights flashing across the crowded rooms, and people are packed shoulder-to-shoulder in a mix of costumes ranging from clever to downright lazy.

I adjust my aviator sunglasses, tugging at the edge of my bomber jacket as I weave through the crowd. The fake mustache itches, but it’s a small price to pay for the effect. People nod and grin as I pass—Top Gun was a good call.

“Knox,” Joe’s voice cuts through the noise, dripping with mock friendliness. He’s leaning against the bar, a beer in hand and a grin on his face that makes my fists clench.

“DeRollo,” I reply, grabbing a cold beer from the cooler. I pop it open with the edge of the counter and take a long sip before turning to face him.

“Nice costume,” he says, gesturing with his bottle. “You make a great Maverick. Backup suits you.”

I smirk, leaning casually against the counter. “Well, somebody’s got to make sure the team wins, even if it’s just by writing scouting reports, right? I’m glad I can help you out.”

His grin falters for a second before he chuckles. “You’ve got jokes tonight. Good for you. Anyway, I’ve got plans to win in more ways than one.”

“Yeah?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Joe takes another sip of his beer, scanning the crowd. “Let’s just say there’s someone here I’ve been meaning to talk to. Someone I’ve got history with.”

I stiffen, the beer suddenly bitter in my mouth.

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