Chapter 3

The Andersons walked in, and there she was. Jocelyn. Eighteen years old again, her dark hair pulled back, her expression reserved. She was exactly as I remembered, an ice queen in the making. My heart ached with a phantom pain fifty years old.

Dinner was a tense affair. Our fathers talked business, about synergistic growth and market potential. I said nothing, focusing on my food.

After the main course, my father cleared his throat. "Ethan has a welcome gift for you, Jocelyn."

I reluctantly stood up and brought the stack of games and comics over to her. I braced myself for the disdain, the polite but dismissive look I knew so well.

I placed them on the table beside her. "I heard you were smart," I said, my tone deliberately flat. "Figured you might like a challenge."

She looked at the nerdy collection. Her father looked mortified. My father looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

But Jocelyn didn't look disdainful. A small, genuine smile touched her lips. It was the smile I had spent half a century chasing.

"Thank you, Ethan," she said, her voice soft. She reached out and picked up a comic book from the top of the pile, a rare first edition of a classic sci-fi series. "I love this one. I haven't seen a copy in this condition before."

My mind went blank. This wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. She was supposed to be cold, to reject it, to confirm my decision to stay away.

Panic surged through me. I had to push her away. I had to maintain the distance.

I reached out and snatched the comic book from her hand.

"Sorry," I said gruffly, avoiding her shocked gaze. "That one was for me. Mixed it in by accident."

I turned and walked out of the dining room, leaving a stunned silence behind me.