Page 123 of Instigator

Colt releases me, then adjusts the lapel of my coat. “If you say so.”

“Now it’s time for you to find your own happy. Do you think Robby⁠—”

He clears his throat loudly, looking around the crowded lobby. “Not here.”

“But—”

“We’re not hard launching at a work event,” he hisses, grabbing my hand and half dragging me across the lobby. “We’ll figure it out with time, though. We don’t need that pressure. Not right now. Not when we’re so new.”

My eyebrows dart up toward my hairline. “But you are new?”

“We’re dating, we’re exclusive, but we’re not boyfriends. I don’t know if we’ll ever get there. I’m just enjoying the ride.”

“Colt.” I tug his hand, and he slows to a stop, turning to face me. “I want you to be happy.”

“I am,” he whispers. “More than I ever thought I could be.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“Me too.” He gives me a ghost of a smile. “Me fucking too.”

He tugs on my hand, prompting me to move again, and I follow him to the ballroom. We both show our tickets to the doorman, checking our coats and then gaining entry to the gala.

The foundation spared no expense. The entire ballroom is decked out in black and gold. Men in tuxedos and women in ballgowns mingle with hockey players and team staff. I catch sight of Nick and Bex talking to an older couple, and Audrey and Seb in a circle with Rachel, Jake, Riley, and Gonzo.

I deserve to be here. I can mingle with the other WHAFFLs. My friends.

But still, I hold myself back.

“Hailey outdid herself,” Colt murmurs to me.

“She really did.”

My hand tucked into his elbow, he strides to the bar. His tux is camouflage at an event like this, whereas my gown makes me stand out. Colt’s always been good at fading into the background.

I used to want that. I used to envy his quiet ability to assimilate into whatever gathering we were at, to be unobtrusive.

I haven’t been unobtrusive for a day in my life. Even when I didn’t want to be, I’ve always been loud and extra, and for years, I tried to shove myself into a box in order for people to like me. To value me.

Not anymore. I finally value myself, and fuck what they think of me.

The bartender pours our drinks, and Colt stuffs a folded bill into the tip jar, then hands me my amaretto sour.

“You ready for this?” he mutters, looking positively thrilled.

I take a sip of my drink, letting the sweet and nutty flavor override some of my senses.

“Okay, now I am.” I glance around the ballroom, taking in the event’s sheer magnitude.

I’ve been to hundreds of these black-tie events over the years. By all accounts, we’re part of the Boston elite. Fuck, we’re both billionaires. We earned our money through blood, sweat, and tears.

But I’ve never felt more like I belonged to this group until now.

Before, I was a guest. A patron. A donor.

Now I’m part of the Grizzlies family. Not purely because of my work with the foundation, but because of Aidan.

He’s given me a family. A home.