Page 46 of Mending Hearts
Did he look like he’d been punched? Did he look like I felt? Or did he just… nod, accept it, and move on?
The question makes my chest ache in a way I don’t want to name.
We’re interrupted by movement near the entrance. A cluster of people arrive, laughter loud enough to carry. Photographers aren’t allowed inside the event—Eli made sure of that—but there are still phones, still glances, still the unmistakable shift that happens when someone famous walks in.
Miles’s attention sharpens. “Oh, hell.”
I glance over and immediately spot him. Elliot Hale.
A-list, global level. The kind of actor who can show up in a room and the atmosphere changes like the laws of physics adjusted to accommodate him. Elliot’s got that effortless charisma that makes people want to orbit. He’s in a black suit with an open collar, hair perfect in a way that looks unintentional but definitely isn’t. He’s laughing with a woman beside him, hand on her back, posture relaxed like he’s never been nervous a day in his life.
He looks toward the stage, spots us just to the side, and his grin breaks wide.
“There they are,” he calls, voice carrying over the ambient chatter like he owns the room.
Miles mutters, “And now we’re doomed.”
I snort, loving Miles’s apparent loathing for Elliot a little too much, especially as I don’t buy it for a second.
Elliot crosses toward us with the confidence of a man who knows he’s welcome. He was in our first-ever music video—before we were anyone. He did it for a tiny fee because he likedthe song and he liked us, and somehow that stuck. Over the years, friendship turned real.
Elliot pulls Miles into a quick hug. Miles stiffens at the contact. Elliot ignores his reaction, then lands his gaze on me. “Rafe,” he says, warmth softening his expression. “You look annoyingly good.”
I deadpan, “I’m dying inside.”
Elliot laughs like he thinks I’m joking. Miles gives me a look likedon’t.
Elliot leans in closer, lowering his voice. “Proud of you guys for doing this,” he says, nodding toward the event. “Eli’s dad is a warrior.”
“He is,” I say, and I mean it.
Elliot’s gaze lingers on me for a fraction too long. He’s perceptive in the way some actors are—too good at reading micro-expressions.
“You all right?” he asks quietly.
I blink. “Yeah.”
“Uh-huh,” Elliot says, unconvinced but letting it go, just as Drew appears. “Anyway, I brought money. Tell me what to bid on.”
Drew grins. “That’s our favorite sentence.”
Elliot laughs and turns, scanning the silent auction table like he’s hunting.
As he moves away, Rosa appears at the edge of the crowd, waving. She looks gorgeous in a deep red dress, hair down, and glasses on. Beside her is Luis—tall, kind-faced, dressed like he’s trying to blend in.
He’s an accountant, too, which makes me want to laugh because Rosa really does have a type.
She threads through the room toward me and kisses my cheek. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I say, softer than I’ve sounded all night.
Luis offers his hand. “Good to see you again, man.”
“You too,” I reply, shaking it. “Thanks for coming.”
Luis’s smile is easy. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Rosa glances between me and Miles, then lowers her voice. “Everything okay?”
