Page 68 of One Last Encore

He’d opened up to her about his struggles, about his family and his brother’s addiction, and never once had she felt like he expected her to fix him. He trusted her with his truth, and she had run. But she was so tired of running.

With a decisive huff, Ingrid stood, scooping Freddie off her lap and plopping her onto the couch beside Eden. Freddie turned her head slowly, narrowed her green eyes in disdain, then leapt off the couch and stalked into Ingrid’s bedroom like an offended queen.

Eden raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Pretty sure that was cat for ‘get your life together.’"

"She’s judgy," Ingrid said with a shrug. "Always has been."

Ingrid walked to the coat rack, grabbed her red beret, and perched it on her head. Serious emotional growth or not, there was no reason not to accessorize.

"Thanks, you two," she said, smoothing her coat and grabbing her purse. "I’m going for it."

"Go get your man!" Eden cheered.

"Hypothetically speaking," Sylvia added with a smirk.

Ingrid rolled her eyes. "There are pizza rolls in the freezer, and I recorded the new Law & Order. Stay as long as you want and keep Freddie company."

"The only company Freddie would enjoy is a troll who collects toenails and hurls insults at travelers for fun," Sylvia said dryly.

Eden gasped. "Don’t say that where she can hear you!" She shot a wary glance toward Ingrid’s bedroom. "She remembers things. Sheplots."

Ingrid laughed, shaking her head as she opened the door.

And as she stepped out, nerves buzzing, she realized that for the first time in forever, she wanted to take the risk.

CHAPTER 19

INGRID. EARLY NOVEMBER, FIVE YEARS AGO

After squeezing through two packed subway rides, dodging an impromptu breakdancing show, and narrowly avoiding a flying fingernail from a woman clipping her nails beside her, Ingrid finally made it to Brooklyn.

She was about 98% sure she remembered where Beck lived. And the lanky guy with shaggy hair loitering out front, looking like the human version of a snooze button, pretty much confirmed it.

"Finn!" Ingrid called, her voice cutting through the quiet street.

The shaggy-haired man turned at the sound of his name, a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips.

"Hey, I almost didn’t recognize you in real clothes. What are you doing here? Looking for Princess Peach? Hate to break it to you, but wrong castle," Finn said, smirking like he was expecting a standing ovation.

Ingrid blinked, momentarily thrown. Then she caught the not-so-subtle glance at her red beret.Oh my God.He was calling her Mario from that video game.

"Seriously?" she deadpanned. "This is vintage Chanel. Not plumber cosplay."

"I bet you’re here for another cuddle session. Too bad Beck isn’t home," Finn teased, taking a slow drag of his cigarette before he crushed it under his shoe, flashing a wolfish grin. "But I could step in if you’re desperate…"

"That won’t be necessary," a deep voice cut in from behind her.

Beck appeared at her side, all casual confidence and perfectly timed entrances. Without slowing down, he handed a pizza box to Finn like he’d spent years cutting him off mid-nonsense.

He slipped an arm around Ingrid, pulling her closer. And just like that, the nerves buzzing under her skin melted away.

"You look amazing," Beck murmured, his voice sending goosebumps over her body. The way he looked at her, his gaze lingering on her plaid skirt and black turtleneck made her stomach flutter.

Before she could even think about what she was doing, her arms slipped inside his jacket, drawn to the warmth radiating from him. Wrapped in his arms, she felt safe. Secure. Like she belonged there.

"I love the look, it’s very Cher fromClueless," a voice chimed in.

Ingrid blinked, startled. She turned to see a shorter guy with raven-black hair, casually munching on a garlic knot like he’d been there the whole time.

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