Six years ago

“You’ve had this before?”

Ellie rolled her eyes at the boy playing bartender—one of the generic ones with the forgettable names. When she was twelve, he'd been the one who asked how the “training” was going as the whole group laughed at her newly donned bra with the wide white straps slipping down her arms. Her brother, Eli, had flushed a dangerous scarlet and told them to leave her alone. He'd never liked her snatching attention from his friends, even unintentionally.

“Of course,” she told the no-name boy, taking the glass tumbler fizzing with a concoction she could already tell was too sweet. “Do you think this is my first party or something?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, trying to force the wrong cap onto the bottle. “You’re a kid. How do I know what they’re teaching in school these days?”

“I’m sixteen,” she said.

“That’s what I said.” He winked at her, a practiced one. “But then again, you seem to know what you’re doing with that mouth of yours.”

“Whatever.” She turned away, flipping her long auburn hair that was finally long enough to kiss the small of her back. Resisting the urge to pull down the hem of the minidress borrowed from a childhood friend, she practiced sipping the effervescence without making a face. Whoever lived here, in this townhome with little touches of elegance from the wainscoting in the entryway to the quartz countertops in the kitchen, they knew how to set the mood. Dim lights, and a decent sound system with a carefully curated playlist on a tablet provided the perfect atmosphere.

This was a party. A real, grownup party, the kind of thing she only had to wait two more years for until she could fully dive in herself. There was some kind of magic in these parties, but a restlessness, too. Everyone was just trying so hard, lubricating their insecurities with liquor paid for with student loans. Ellie wanted something more, even as the pinkish liquid swam its way into her head.

And then she saw him.

She could have spotted him rooms away. The way he held himself, broad shoulders riding on a crafted chest, clear even through the button-up. How he ran his hands through dirty blond hair that darkened just a touch each year. They were a man’s hands, not a boy’s, with thick and bronzed fingers and the right amount of roughness that told the world he knew how to use them.

“Henry!” she called, a part of her noticing her voice was too loud. “Hey, Henry!” She couldn’t quiet herself. Her legs, slim but defined from years on the track team, ushered her over to him seemingly on their own.

“Oh, Ellie,” he said, turning away from the stunning woman he’d been talking to. “How, uh, how are you?” he asked, his eyes wide. He looked at her like she was a stranger. One he couldn’t take his eyes off.

“I’m good!” she said, pulling a curtain of hair over her shoulder. “When… when did you get back? Eli didn’t say anything about you being back. Are you—”

“Only last week,” he said. “I’m just on leave. I haven’t had time to catch up with everyone yet. But I did text your brothers. Eli’s the one who told me about the party.”

Damnit, Eli. You could have told me. “Oh! He didn’t say anything to me. It’s so good to see you! Don’t I get a hug?” Thank goodness for liquid courage.

As Henry reached down to embrace her, the room slowed. Even in her four-inch heels, he had to bend down to reach her. Was it just her? Or was the entire world halting? She felt the heat of his forearm on her back, the knot of his rolled-up sleeves pressed against the swell of her hips, and the way his face fit into the hollow of her neck without hesitation. From his breath on her neck to the pleasing scratch of stubble against her own soft cheeks, the entirety of the moment was ablaze.

As he pulled away, her fingers clutched onto his arm a little too long. Did he feel it? It was palpable. Embarrassed by the heat between her legs and what she was sure the redness of her face betrayed, Ellie tucked a thick lock behind her ear. She was grateful to be holding the drink in her other hand. Stop touching your hair! You look nervous.

Henry backed away from her, obviously scrambling for composure. “This is Ellie, Eli’s sister,” Henry said to the towering goddess beside him. “Ellie, this is—I’m sorry. What was your name?”

“Right,” the deity said, doe eyes darting between Ellie and Henry. “I’m going to refresh my drink,” she said, starting to turn. “Are you coming, Henry?”

“Yeah, yeah. See you, Ellie,” he said, following the gazelle into the kitchen.

“Hey! Champagne? It’s getting posh in here.” Oh, the bartender again. At least this time he was serving a purpose—literally.

“Yes. Please,” Ellie said, grabbing two slender flutes.

She downed the first, being careful to lick the rim of the glass first to keep her lipstick intact.

“Hey! Pace yourself,” he muttered, stumbling away while miraculously keeping his tray laden with drinks upright. With one swallow, she finished the second.

Leaning against the banister, she watched Henry dancing with the blonde whose name he couldn’t even recall. You shouldn’t pout, she told herself. After all, he was twenty-eight and in the Navy, so what did she expect? She knew what they said about sailors and Fleet Week. She imagined he killed it at Fleet Week. He could have anyone he wanted.

The speakers squawked as someone pulled the aux cord from the tablet, plugging in their own phone. She hated that. Why couldn’t people just let whoever was hosting play their own music? The harsh noise stopped the sea of dancers in the midst of their song as drunken protests rang out, but when “Said You Won’t Let Go” began to play everyone quieted down. A slow song. She needed this song, deserved this song.

Making her way through the throngs of sudden twosomes, she touched Henry’s arm. His heat pulsed through her palm like lightning. “May I have this dance?” she asked, overly formal in case he refused. Then she could play it off as a joke.

The blonde raised a brow and shook her head, maneuvering toward the bar.

Henry sighed as he took Ellie by the waist and wound his left hand through hers. “Just one,” he said. “Then I’m heading out.”

“Just one,” she promised. His hand on her back, their wrists pressed tight, everywhere they touched emitted sparks of promise. Looking up, she swore there was something tucked into those chocolate eyes of his. Lust? Maybe. Or maybe she was just imagining the whole thing.

“You’ve become a lot better at this compared to that tap dance routine when you were five,” he said. She cocked her head, then laughed. She’d completely forgotten about that. Henry had been in her life ever since she could remember, an almost adopted fourth child by her parents. In that moment, her heart ached for him. It was the same pull she'd felt two years ago when he'd first left for the Navy.

“Do you want to know a secret?” she asked.

“Always.”

“You were my first love,” she whispered, pulling him close. “Shhh! Don’t tell anybody.”

“Were?” he asked, raising his brows in mock surprise. “You mean you’re already over me?”

“No! That’s not what I meant,” she said. Was the room spinning faster? A lump started to grow in her throat, but she forced herself to ignore it. That damn cheap champagne. “I mean, I had the biggest crush on you. Seriously. I mean, for years.”

Henry laughed, releasing her hand. “Ellie, you’re drunk,” he said. “And I’m sorry, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but there’s no way I’d ever hook up with a little girl. Especially Eli’s sister. I think it’s just the alcohol talking.”

“No! I’m serious. Oh God, I don’t feel good.”

“Come on,” Henry said, taking her elbow. “Let’s go outside for some fresh air.”

The lawn was covered with cocktail napkins and half-full glasses. On the porch swing, two college girls were making out while a group of boys cheered them on. “Over here,” Henry said, directing her to the curb. “College kids,” he said with a shake of his head.

“You know,” Ellie said, “I didn’t mean, like, love love. I just mean I always really liked you. I’m sorry. This is stupid.”

“No. No, it’s okay,” Henry said. “I’m sorry I laughed. It’s just—I’ve known you for a really long time. Ever since… ever since my parents died when I was a kid, your family has been so kind to me. Treating me, well, normal. You know? That’s tough. It’s hard to find.”

“So, what? You think of me like a sister?” Her heart anchored down into her belly.

“No,” he said. “Actually, no. Is that strange? I’ve known you since you were born. But, no, I never thought of you like a sister. A friend, sure, but not a sister. You’ve gotta believe me, kid.”

“Don’t call me kid,” she said. “I’m not.”

“I know that,” he said. There it was again, that pulling in his eyes. He’d never looked at her like that before.

“Let me prove it,” she said, leaning into him. Tilting her head and parting her lips, even as her eyes fluttered shut she could sense him mirroring her.

Their lips met, the sweetness of the champagne mixing with the cold crisp taste of his own lingering beer. Her tongue flicked across his and he bit gently into her lower lip, but he pulled away just as she felt wetness start to blossom between her thighs.

“Ellie, we can’t,” he said. “I’m just… I’m just not interested in you like that. You have to understand you’re way too young.”

“I’m sixteen,” she said.

“Jesus. Exactly,” he said. “You’re too young for me, and you always will be.”

The lump in her throat was back with a vengeance, urged on by the hot tears pricking her eyes. “Henry—” she stammered, but it was too late. Throwing her head forward, she vomited a week’s worth of drinks onto his canvas shoes. The mystery pink drink, the champagne, a whiskey and Coke from much earlier in the night, all of it.

“Ellie!”

“Your shoes.” She couldn’t stop the tears now. “I’m sorry. Your shoes…”

“It’s okay. Who cares about the shoes? Get it all out, it’s alright. Don’t worry about it.” Henry’s hand on her back pumped a red hot heat into her, calming her. It was nearly paternal in nature, but not quite. Not quite.

“Henry! Ellie? What’s going on? What’s wrong?” Eli appeared from the corner of her eye, loping off the porch.

“I… I just…”

“She just had too much to drink,” Henry said. “She’s okay.”

“Thanks for taking care of her, man,” Eli said. “Dammit, Ellie, I told you that you could only come if I didn’t have to babysit you.”

She lowered her face to her arms, letting her hair serve as a blanket. Just like a kid scared of what’s under the bed.

“Maybe you should take her home,” Henry told Eli.

“Yeah. You know, Ellie, you’re one serious buzzkill.” She felt Eli lifting her up by the arms. “Come on.”

“Sorry,” she mouthed to Henry.

“No sorries,” Henry told her, smiling. That smile. It always did her in.