“Hey,” he says, getting up from the chair and rushing to me. “Everything is going to be good still, even if it gets a little bumpy for a while.” He kneels down in front of me and touches his hand to my cheek, smearing some of the tears away with his thumb. “And you want to know how I know that?” he asks, and I nod my head as more hot tears spill down my cheek. “Because I’m here. With you. And we’re both sober.” He gives me a lopsided smile and then wraps his arms around me, pulling me toward him. “And we both can get through this together.”
My arms instinctively circle him and pull him closer as I rest my chin on top of his shoulders. “But what if it is her?”
His muscles spasm, but when he speaks his voice is calm. “Then we’ll deal with it together.”
“Can you… can you deal with it?” I wonder, looking him in the eyes. I honestly don’t know, if it comes down to it, if he can be there for me without it hurting his recovery. If it is Delilah’s body, will he be able to handle it? I don’t think they were that close, but death is death. It’s hard. Painful. And the weight of it grows with each person who passes, and never fully lightens again. Quinton’s lost a lot and I worry the weight of another death will push him down.
“I think so.” His voice falters, but he quickly recovers. “I will for you… but Nova, let’s not go to that place until we know for sure, okay?”
I nod, reaching up and wiping some more tears away with my fingertips. After I pull myself together, I lean back and look him in the eye. “You’re pretty good at this. You know that?”
He raises his eyebrows with a look of disbelief. “Well, if that’s true, then you can thank Wilson and his constant nagging words of wisdom.”
“Do I get to meet him?” I ask, changing the subject to a lighter tone. “While I’m here?”
“Do you want to meet him?” he asks in surprise, his hands resting on top of my legs.
“Of course. You’ve been talking about him nonstop for a couple of weeks now,” I say, but when he frowns, I add, “But you don’t have to introduce me if you don’t want to.”
“No, I want to,” he replies with reservation. “It’s just that…” He scratches the back of his head. “It’s just that it makes things so real.” He gestures between us. “You and I.”
“It doesn’t have to mean that,” I say, hiding my disappointment. “We can still just be friends.”
His lips smash together as he holds my gaze. “I’m not sure if I can do that. Not when you’re here now.” He shuts his eyes and his chest rises and falls as he breathes in deeply and exhales. “Not after that kiss.”
“I’m sorry about that,” I apologize, even though I’m not that sorry. “I feel like I just put a ton of pressure on you by showing up here. I should have thought this all through a little better.”
He opens his eyes, honey brown and reflecting the light of the room. I remember when I first met him how much pain they carried and in Vegas how empty they looked. But now they’re different… he’s different—more alive. “No, I want to be here for you… you’ve been there so much for me.” He deliberates something with a lost look on his face. “Just tell me what you want to do and I’ll make it happen.”
I consider what I want, but a lot of impossible scenarios come to mind, like making it so Delilah will be okay, so I decide to settle on something simple. “I want to see the city,” I say. “I’ve never been here before.”
“How long are you planning on staying?” He gets to his feet and sits back down to eat breakfast.
“I have to go back home tomorrow… I have to work the day after Christmas and I promised Lea I’d spend Christmas day with her.”
I can’t tell if he’s happy about this or not, but then he smiles. “Only one day in Seattle. I know just the place to go.”
“Oh yeah? Where?” I dig into my eggs.
“It’s a surprise.” Then he winks at me and just seeing him happy makes me think that, despite all the darkness and wrong going on right now, everything’s going to turn out okay.
Chapter 13
Quinton
It’s strange having Nova here, but not as strange as I thought it would be. In fact, despite my nervousness, it feels strangely right having her by my side. I wonder what this means. That it doesn’t feel as wrong as it used to.
But the settled feeling leaves me a little as we get onto a bus and head toward town to see the Space Needle. I keep thinking how Lexi and I used to do this and how I shouldn’t be doing it with Nova, yet as I sit by her, holding her hand, I can’t seem to bring myself to put any sort of space between us.
“Seattle’s a lot bigger than I thought,” she says as she observes the city through the window. She has her phone out and every once in a while she records the stuff around us, always wanting to see everything through a lens.
The city is extra busy right now, being that it’s the day before Christmas. More people walk the streets, carrying bags. Lights sparkle around windows and everything seems to shine cheerfully.
“It’s definitely no Maple Grove,” I tell her, leaning over her shoulder to stare up at the buildings with her. Her vanilla scent floods my body and I can’t help it, I brush my lips across the side of her head. Just a soft kiss, to still the craving to smother her with passionate kisses.
“It’s so tall and busy,” she says, leaning into me and sighing contentedly. “And shiny. Like a big mirror… and all the Christmas stuff… I swear I can actually feel Christmas in the air.”
“I used to draw it all the time,” I divulge, turning my legs inward in the seat when a lady on crutches comes hobbling by. “I even won an art contest with one of my drawings when I was a senior in high school.”
She turns her head and we’re so close our lips brush against each other. “I want to see some of your sketches while I’m here. Ones that you used to draw.”
My brows furrow as I realize that I think I might be able to handle that. “You know what? I think I’d like you to see them too… I’d like you to see that I wasn’t always so tripped out and could draw stuff with meaning behind it.”
“I think everything you draw has meaning behind it,” she says, the sunlight illuminating her greenish-blue eyes. “Some of the meaning is just sadder.”
Her words hit me in the heart. She’s so understanding and all I want to do is kiss her. Without any warning I press my lips to hers, startling her. But she doesn’t pull back, falling into the kiss, opening her mouth as I slide my tongue deep inside. I’m sure we have an audience, but I don’t care as I lean into her, forcing her to lean against the bus wall.
And that’s how we stay until we reach our stop, almost missing it because we’re so consumed in each other. We get off holding hands, the icy air just a bit more bearable as we walk side by side.
“Did you come here a lot?” she asks, angling her head back to look up at the top of the Space Needle stretching toward the sky as she raises her camera phone to get a shot of it.
I nod, not looking at the building, but at her. The awe in her expression is more fascinating than anything else going on around me. The way her eyes look crystal blue in the shadows, but greener when she leans into the light. The way strands of her hair move with the wind and the way she’s biting her bottom lip nervously. Watching her makes me still inside and I wonder if this is how it could have always been with her if my mind had been undiluted enough to be aware of it. Although I feel high on her right now. Nova high. I wonder if that’s okay.
“What?” she asks, suddenly looking at me, and our gazes fasten.
I shake my head, still not looking away from her. “It’s nothing. You’re just beautiful. That’s all.”
Her cheeks turn a little pink and it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. It helps override the terror affection term I just told her
“Thanks,” Nova says shyly.
I smile. “Come on,” I say, pulling her toward the entrance before she can get too embarrassed. “It’s much better at the top.”
She laughs and lets me guide her up the stairs that lead to the entrance doors, where we pay our way in and take the elevators to the observation area. The wind feels like ice from all the way up here and stings my cheeks. We’re so high up it feels like I’m flying and I hold on to Nova while she records the view, staying behind her with my hands on her hips, afraid to let her go as she leans forward and glances at the view below.
“The city looks so small from up here,” she notes, then glances over my shoulder with her phone still up in front of her. “I feel like I’m a bird or something.”
Smiling, I span my arms out and bring hers along with mine, pretending we have wings. She laughs, turning back around and redirecting her attention to the view and her camera. We stand there silently for the longest time, watching people come and go, the air getting colder and the sky darker. I think about asking her if she’s ready to go, but I sense she’s having some sort of moment so I remain silent, wondering what she’s thinking and if she’ll ever share it.
“Landon was afraid of heights,” she says unexpectedly, gazing straight ahead as she continues to record. “We couldn’t even ride the Ferris wheel when the carnival came to town.”
“Lexi was afraid of bugs,” I say quietly, resting my chin on top of her head, my fingers delving into her sides because I have to hold on to something, otherwise I’m pretty sure I’m going to collapse from the adrenaline and emotions barreling through me. “I had to squish one every time she saw it.”
“I’m not a fan of them either,” she admits. “But that’s not what I fear the most.”
“What do you fear the most?” I dare ask, tensing as I wait for her answer.
“Life,” she says, looking over her shoulder at me. “And what lies ahead for me. You?”
My scar burns on my chest, feeling like it is splitting open, sending pain all over my body, but despite it, I manage to say, “The past and forgetting it.”
She nods, understanding, and I’m glad I don’t have to explain it to her. It makes things easier, unlike with my therapist, who wants me to explain everything. Nova gets me without my having to explain everything, and when I do explain things to her, I feel terrified but better. God, it’s amazing what she’s done for me. How lucky I am that she’s here with me.
“Landon said he was tired of life,” she whispers. “And that he couldn’t find a point of living it anymore, so he just gave up… it always feels like everyone’s giving up all the time and I don’t understand why.”
“Because it’s easier,” I say. “Than living and fighting to survive.”
“But it’s worth it?” she asks with so much hope in her eyes it makes me feel the slightest bit of hope, too. “Right?”
“I didn’t used to think so… I used to think that the only way to deal with everything was to give up, but now…” I trail off, searching her eyes. “But now it’s not so easy anymore.”
She presses her lips together, turns toward me, and then slips her fingers through mine. “Good. Because I don’t want you to give up. I need you here with me.” Then she stands on her tiptoes and kisses me and for a moment everything seems perfect. I’m not sure if I deserve it or not. If it’s right or wrong, but regardless I’m selfishly taking it at the moment because I want her, more than anything.
Chapter 14
Nova
We spend the rest of the day exploring the city and I even stop at a few stores to buy a couple of last-minute Christmas presents. We chat while recording every moment, but only because I want to have something to remind me of this day. It’s hard, I’ll admit, to be walking around when there’s such a huge fear looming over my head. Death. It only gets harder when I get a text from Jaxon, one I feared was coming.
Jaxon: Did u seriously play with Lea’s band?
“Shit,” I curse as I read the text. We’re sitting on a park bench watching people go by and Quinton shoots me a puzzled look.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, putting his arm on the back of the bench behind me.
I shake my head as I read the text over again. “Jaxon found out I played with Lea’s band.”
“So? Tell him you did it because she’s your friend,” he says, the sunlight above shimmering in his eyes.
“I think he’s pissed,” I say, and then I text Jaxon back.
Me: I’m sorry, but she really needed me. I feel bad for doing it.
Jaxon: You know that’s like the ultimate betrayal. Nikko’s freakin pissed off as hell. He has this huge grudge against Braxton… says he stole a girlfriend from him a year ago or some shit.
Me: Tell him I’m sorry.
Jaxon: That’s not going to do any good at the moment.
I’m about to text back when another text comes through.
Jaxon: He wants to kick u out of the band.
Me: Please don’t. Tell him that I’m really sorry and that I’ll make it up to him.
“Or how about tell them to get over it,” Quinton says, and I realize he’s reading my texts over my shoulder. “Don’t let them push you around like that, Nova.”
“They’re not pushing me around. I promise,” I say, but it doesn’t feel like I’m being truthful to myself. “This is just how bands work.”