Chapter 24: The Excuses

Seth knew he should stay away.

He'd known it the moment he walked into that bridal shop and saw her—Hallie, his Hallie, older and sharper and more beautiful than he'd ever let himself remember. The shock of recognition had hit him like a physical blow, stealing his breath and his words and any chance of playing it cool.

She'd looked at him like he was a stranger.

No—worse. She'd looked at him like he was someone she used to know, someone she'd filed away in the back of her mind and forgotten. The professional smile, the steady voice, the complete lack of warmth in those storm-grey eyes that had once looked at him like he was the only person in the world.

He deserved it. He knew he deserved it.

But knowing didn't make it hurt less.

Seth sat in his rental car outside the shop for twenty minutes after Chloe's fitting, his hands gripping the steering wheel, his mind a chaos of memories and guilt and something that felt terrifyingly like hope.

He should drive away. He should go back to his hotel, pack his things, catch the next flight home. He should forget he ever saw her, the way she'd clearly tried to forget him.

He should.

But her face kept appearing behind his eyes—not the professional mask, but the flicker of pain underneath. The moment when their gazes had met and something raw had passed between them before she'd hidden it away.

He'd done that to her.

He'd left without a word, without explanation, without even a proper goodbye. He'd had no choice—his father had made that clear, had made everything clear in those frantic hours after the decision was made. But knowing he'd had no choice didn't change the fact that he'd chosen. Every day for five years, he'd chosen to stay silent, to stay away, to protect her from a world she didn't know existed.

And now she was here, and he was here, and the weight of all those choices was crushing him.

The next morning, Seth found himself outside the shop again.

He hadn't planned to come. Had woken up determined to stay away, to let her live her life without his complications. But then Chloe had texted, asking if he'd come with her to a second fitting—she was nervous about the dress, wanted another opinion—and he'd said yes before he could stop himself.

It's for Chloe, he told himself. I'm being a good best man.

But as he pushed through the door and saw Hallie behind the counter, her grey eyes widening for just a fraction of a second before the mask slid into place, he knew he was lying.

"Welcome back," she said, her voice perfectly neutral. "Chloe, nice to see you again. Did you have concerns about the dress?"

Chloe launched into a rambling explanation about sleeves and lace and whether she should have gone with the ballgown after all. Seth tuned her out, his attention fixed on Hallie—on the way her hands moved as she pulled up Chloe's file, on the tightness around her eyes that no one else would notice, on the complete absence of warmth directed at him.

He deserved it.

He still hated it.

The second fitting lasted an hour. Hallie was professional, patient, exactly what Chloe needed. She never once looked directly at Seth, never acknowledged his presence beyond the barest politeness. By the time Chloe declared herself satisfied and they left, Seth felt like he'd been scraped raw.

"I love her," Chloe announced as they walked to the car. "Hallie, I mean. She's so calm and helpful. Not pushy at all."

"She's something," Seth agreed.

Chloe glanced at him curiously. "You okay? You've been weird both times we've come here."

"Fine. Just tired."

It was what he always said. What he'd been saying for five years, whenever anyone asked about the shadows behind his eyes.

That night, Seth lay in his hotel bed and stared at the ceiling.

He should stay away.

He should stay away.

He should—

The next morning, he "forgot" his wallet at the shop.

It was a stupid excuse. He knew it was stupid the moment he walked through the door, saw Hallie's expression shift from surprise to something that might have been annoyance. But he was already there, already committed, already drowning in the grey of her eyes.

"I forgot my wallet," he said. "When I was here yesterday. With Chloe."

Hallie stared at him for a long moment. Then she reached under the counter and produced his wallet—which he'd deliberately left on a chair the day before, hoping someone would find it and hold it.

"Here." She set it on the counter between them, not quite touching. "You should be more careful."

"I know. Thanks." He picked it up, their fingers not quite brushing. "Hallie—"

"Was there anything else?" The mask was back, smooth and impenetrable. "I have another appointment in ten minutes."

"No. Nothing else."

He left, feeling her gaze on his back the whole way.

Two days later, he needed recommendations for a restaurant.

Chloe had mentioned wanting to try somewhere local, he explained to Margaret—Hallie's boss, who'd been at the counter when he walked in. Margaret was delighted to help, pulling out menus and suggesting her favorites. Hallie, in the back room, was conspicuously absent.

"She's very dedicated," Margaret said, nodding toward the back. "Works late most nights. I keep telling her she needs to get out more, meet people, but she just laughs and says her sketchbook is all the company she needs."

Seth's chest tightened. He remembered the sketchbook. Remembered the hours he'd spent watching her fill its pages, the designs that had seemed to come from somewhere magic.

"Does she still draw?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

Margaret's eyes sharpened with interest. "You know Hallie?"

"We went to high school together. A long time ago."

"Ah." Margaret's expression shifted into something knowing. "Well, she doesn't talk about high school much. But yes, she still draws. Constantly. Has a whole portfolio of designs she works on at night. Talented girl."

Seth nodded, filed away the information, and left with a list of restaurant recommendations he had no intention of using.

The next week, he needed to confirm Chloe's final fitting appointment.

The week after, he was "in the neighborhood" and thought he'd say hello.

The week after that, he brought coffee for the staff—a peace offering, he explained, for all the times he'd bothered them.

Margaret thought he was wonderful. The most attentive best man she'd ever met. She told him so, beaming, as she accepted the coffee.

Hallie, watching from the fitting room doorway, knew exactly what he was doing.

"You need to stop coming here."

He found her in the back room after Margaret had left for lunch. She was organizing gowns, her back to him, her voice carefully controlled.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Don't." She turned, and for the first time, the mask slipped. He saw the anger underneath, the hurt, the years of pain she'd been carrying. "Don't pretend this is about Chloe or forgotten wallets or restaurant recommendations. I'm not stupid, Seth."

"I never said you were."

"Then what are you doing?" She stepped closer, her grey eyes blazing. "Why are you here? Why now? Why after five years of nothing?"

Seth opened his mouth to answer—to explain, to apologize, to tell her everything—but the words wouldn't come. How could he explain the shadow monsters, the war he'd been pulled into, the training that had consumed his life? How could he tell her that he'd stayed away to protect her, only to realize too late that protecting her meant nothing if she hated him?

"I can't—" He stopped, shook his head. "It's complicated."

"Complicated." Hallie laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Five years ago, you told me 'always.' The next day, you disappeared. No call, no text, no explanation. Just... gone. And now you're here, buying coffee and forgetting wallets, and you think 'complicated' covers it?"

"No. I don't think anything covers it." He met her eyes, let her see the truth of that. "I know I hurt you. I know I don't deserve to be here, don't deserve to even look at you. But I can't—" His voice cracked. "I can't stay away. I've tried. For five years, I've tried. And then I saw you, and everything I'd told myself about why I left just... fell apart."

Hallie was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was softer, but no less guarded.

"Why did you leave?"

Seth wanted to tell her. God, he wanted to tell her everything. But the words stuck in his throat, blocked by years of training, by the knowledge that the truth would sound insane, by the fear that telling her would put her in even more danger.

"I can't," he whispered. "Not yet. But I'm trying—I'm trying to figure out how."

Hallie stared at him for a long moment. Then she turned away, returning to her work.

"You have five minutes," she said quietly. "Then you need to go. And if you're not going to tell me the truth, don't come back."

Seth stood there, torn between staying and going, between the truth and the protection it would shatter.

In the end, he left without another word.

But he knew, with absolute certainty, that he'd be back.

He couldn't help himself.

She was his gravity. She always had been.