Eleanor

The music was so loud in the club. My friends, Stacy and Maya, dragged me straight onto the dance floor, squealing with excitement, and I let myself get carried along.

It felt good to laugh, to move, to forget for a second that I had a shadow lurking in the corner.

Except I didn’t forget. I never could.

Even without looking, I knew exactly where Gomez was. He was sitting at the edge of the lounge, broad shoulders squared, glass in hand, eyes trained on me like always.

He ...