by Bria Quinlan
I turned, throwing the door open with so much force it bounced off the wall.
In the main room, Zelda stood, wrapped in Harrison’s arms while he said, “No problem. This is what insurance is for.”
I knew it was a big deal, though. Her memory stick was on there, and it was The Camera. And a brand new one, at that.
“I didn’t take it.” I just blurted it out, not knowing what else to do. “I didn’t take it.”
Zelda pushed out of Harrison’s arms. “Of course you didn’t.”
But, as soon as she said it, I swore a shadow crossed her face for the barest moment.
“No. You didn’t.” She shook her head, looking determined. “You absolutely didn’t. Why did you feel like you needed to even tell me that?”
I could feel the blood rushing to my face, painting my neck red and heating my whole body. This was almost as bad as Sage accusing me—telling other people he did.
Telling other people that the guy I’d been falling for—that I’d thought was worth all the risks—thought I was a thief.
I pressed my lips together, not sure what to do.
“I need to go” was what I came up with. I dumped my tote on the table, grabbed my wallet and keys, and hurried out the door, brushing the tears I’d been holding in off my cheeks.
I felt sick, so sick I stopped and leaned over, bracing my hands on my knees, afraid I was going to hurl right there in the driveway.
Every time—every single time—I let myself believe in something outside of myself, it just, BOOM! blew up.
I straightened, wondering how I was going to get home, knowing there was no way I was getting in a truck with Sage.
I didn’t care that he was going to “take care of it.” I’m sure he thought he was a great guy for overlooking my horrible habit of larceny, but—
I backed away from the thought.
I thought he’d known me. Me, who I was. No one who knew me would have done this.
I leaned over again, fearing that the need to hurl was rising back up.
When I just stood there, hunched over, I finally realized I had to get out of here—had to get as far from him as possible. I just wanted to be home in my dining-bedroom, stretched out on my mattress, pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist, and maybe, maybe, if I thought about how I was nothing I for long enough, I could just…
fade…
away.
30
Sage
Sage’s eyes darted from the door falling shut behind Emily to the people around him. He sucked in a harsh breath and cursed as blood roared in his ears.
This was why he’d wanted to have the conversation with her in private. He didn’t want her to have to say that to those people. He knew how much she admired and respected Zelda and the band.
Throwing the door open literally and figuratively on their conversation would only complicate her situation.
Their situation.
Shit.
He closed his eyes against the memory of the look on her face when he’d presented his solution.
Instead of relief or irritation, she’d turned ghost white, as if someone had just stuck a knife in her belly.
He swallowed hard as his stomach turned over.
It was the look of complete betrayal.
No. She didn’t think he would do that. He’d been trying to help her.
His eyes darted to the closed door again and realized she hadn’t come back inside.
“You’re gonna go after her, right?” Zelda asked sharply.
He stared at her, frozen in place by the fear curling like a snake in the pit of his stomach.
What had he done?
A cold chill crawled up his spine.
What if he couldn’t fix it?
“Dude,” Blake muttered. “Your girl.”
Sage swallowed the sour taste in his mouth and made deliberate strides to the door.
He had to get to her. Talk to her. Explain...everything.
The rush of fresh air hitting his face didn’t help the queasy feeling building in his gut. He clenched his stomach muscles to push it down.
Because this wasn’t as bad as the gnawing in his gut was telling him it was.
It couldn’t be.
Emily righted herself from her hunched-over posture and his chest tightened uncomfortably.
She moved down the driveway, solid, purposeful steps carrying her away from him.
Sage broke into a jog. “Emily, wait!”
Her stiff shoulders got even tighter as she heard his approach, which spiked the panic already spreading into his limbs.
“Emily,” he panted, slowing to match her pace. “Where are you going?”
She stabbed the buttons on her phone in frustration. “Away.”
Sage tried grabbing her bicep to get her to stop and look at him. She yanked her arm out of his grasp, as if his touch burned. A hole opened up in his gut, making the queasiness rise up in force.
“Wait—let me explain. You’re taking what I said all wrong. I didn’t mean it the way you heard.”
Emily snorted. “Right.”
This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.
He had been trying to protect her.
“Please tell me what to say to make it better. Tell me how to take it back.” He choked on the last word as his throat constricted with rising desperation and helplessness.
She whirled on him, pain clear as day slashing through her eyes. The tears falling unchecked squeezed his heart painfully.
She swiped at the wet falling on her cheeks. “You think—” She shook her head and looked to the sky as she struggled with the words. She sucked in a shaky breath as her gaze reconnected with his. The distress in her eyes almost knocked him backward. “Like I’m a stranger and not someone you know. But I guess I really am that stupid. Because I thought, of all people, you would never think I’d steal.”
Sage stepped forward and moved to touch her, but stopped himself. “I don’t. Emily, I don’t think that about you!”
“And not only that, but you were going to cover for me?” She shook her head, face twisted in painful disbelief. “That’s not me, Sage!”
He stared hard into her shattered gaze, searching for the words to explain what had happened. She didn’t understand. She couldn’t.
Time was moving too quickly. He’d do anything to slow it down. He needed a minute to think.
“You think I want to believe you took it?” he asked instead. “I don’t want to think that about you.”
Her eyes filled with fresh tears and she tilted her head to the side. “You really think I took it?” she whispered brokenly.
Sage placed both hands on his head and squeezed, trying to relieve the pressure building. “No! But it makes sense, doesn’t it? You’re the only one with access to it who knew what it was worth—”
“And I’m the girl with the troubled past, making me the obvious thief.”
“No!” Sage yelled, dropping his hands to his sides. “It had nothing to with you! I was just trying to...” His voice trailed off as what he’d done started to become clear.
Super clear.
Sickeningly clear. Yeah, he thought she’d taken it.
His second instinct had been right—to protect her.
But it should’ve been his first.
Which wouldn’t have led him to think that about her at all.
This was Emily. She wasn’t that person.
Desperation rushed through him.
He needed her to stop trying to leave.
Stop trying to leave him.
“You have to believe me, please.” He grabbed her arms, his chest filled with a dreadful panic as reality began to set in. She was leaving.
“I have to believe you?” He could hear the shock at the obvious irony in her voice. She placed her hands on his chest and gave him a hard shove. “Let go of me!”
He let go instantly and sucked in a deep breath. “Please let me fix this.”
/> “Stop trying to fix me, Sage,” she said, her jaw trembling and voice breaking. “I’m not broken.”
Everything was breaking.
Sage shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, it is.” New torment cracked across her expression, hitting him again. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have risked it. Other people are just...” Emotion filled her voice and broke it. “You won, though. You got what you wanted: my trust. Good job with it.”
Sage ground his teeth together and pressure built in his chest, threatening to push his heart right out of his throat. “Tell me how to fix it.”
“You don’t get it.” She blinked slowly, her lids pushing out the most beautiful tears he’d ever seen and sending them down her cheeks. “You don’t trust me. And that means I can’t trust you. Not anymore.”
The pain her words carved through his insides was too much for him to manage. He heard the truth of what she was saying, of what his thoughtless accusation had done.
But he rejected it.
He pushed it aside, using the only defense he could think of.
“No, I think maybe I do get it,” he said, cutting through the noise in his head and getting to the problem as he saw it. “I think maybe you like to be the victim and you have no intention of letting it go.”
She huffed in surprise, more wet gathering in her eyes.
But no words. A thick silence swirled in between them.
“Just forget it.” He waved a hand up and down, indicating all that was Emily, his Emily.
He’d only been trying to save her, and all she wanted was to turn it around and into something worse.
“Forget all of it,” he repeated, feeling the rough texture of his words as they fell from his lips.
Her face crumbled, but he wasn’t going to stand there and watch it happen.
He turned on his heel and stalked back to the house. She wasn’t meant for him. If she were, it wouldn’t be this hard. She’d know he’d been doing the best thing for her. He wouldn’t need to be explaining this crap to her.
He wasn’t doing it. Not anymore. It was too hard, and he had no pride left to fight for anyway. She could do her thing, he wasn’t going to hold her up through it.
“Where is she?” Zelda blocked the door with her arms crossed.
Sage jerked his head in the direction of the road. “Walking home, most likely.”
Her eyes narrowed at him. “You just left her out there?”
Sage turned to the side and swept an arm out. “She’s not my problem anymore.” The sting of his own words zinged through his chest and lungs.
He brushed past Zelda into the house, grabbed his keys, and headed back out to his truck.
“McNabb!”
Sage closed his eyes and halted. He didn’t want to get a lecture from any of them. Just because they had perfect marriages and lives didn’t mean they had the responsibility of handing out advice when he didn’t want it.
He turned to see Blake had followed him outside. Behind Blake, Zelda was backing out Luke’s truck. Probably to gather her protégé off the side of the road.
“What?” he asked the guitarist.
“You made it worse?” Blake asked with a knowing eyebrow arch.
Sage released a stunted laugh and closed his eyes. “Make what worse? This is her issue, not mine. I tried to help. She doesn’t want me to.” He shrugged emphatically.
“Oh, dude.” Blake shook his head and slid his bottom lip through his teeth. “Let me buy you a drink. Maybe this old dog can share some of his hard-earned wisdom.”
Sage sighed with impatience. “I know you wanna help, and I appreciate it. But I think I’m just gonna take a drive to clear my head.”
Blake nodded and stepped back, giving him clearance.
Sage got in the truck, started it, and turned the opposite direction of Emily.
He’d take the long way home.
His touchy radio buzzed to life.
“Drops of Jupiter.”
Of course.
31
Emily
I started down the drive, wondering how I was going to get home, thinking maybe Megan could do her Uber thing and come get me when a horn honked from behind me.
Zelda—in a truck that was way too big for either of us—pulled up and rolled down the window.
“Hey, hot stuff. Looking for a ride?” She grinned at me, forced in a way that told me she knew how bad things were.
I glanced down the drive, wondering if there was even a gas station within a mile to hike to.
“Listen,” she said, putting the truck in park and sliding over to open the door. “You need a ride home. Let’s get you somewhere you feel safe and worry about the rest of this crap later.”
Textbook Zelda. But, I also knew she wouldn’t go back on that.
We rode, the music playing softly in the background through the back roads toward town. I leaned my head against the window, trying not to cry, figuring I’d have plenty of time for that once I got home.
We pulled up to the front of my place, and Zelda threw the truck into park.
“Ok, my little hobbit, listen, and listen carefully.” Zelda turned toward me before I could jump out and escape to the secret sanctity of my dining-bedroom. “I know you didn’t take anything. I trust you explicitly. Boys are idiots.”
I snorted through my almost-tears at the last one.
“We’re good. And that’s all that matters, hear me?” she asked.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” she went on, giving me her signature Zelda grin.
I nodded again, pretty sure that’s all I was capable of at the moment.
I jumped out of the truck, nearly spraining my ankle, and wondering which guy drove this. Zelda had basically picked the vehicle not blocked in, and rolled her eyes at the fact that they all left their keys wherever they left the cars.
I climbed up the front stairs to the old oak and glass door, not really wanting to go home. Then, in one of those catch-you-off-guard moments, I saw my reflection in the window and became disgusted with myself.
Of course Sage didn’t believe me. Why would he? I was just some girl. Some girl who had a bad past and a near miss with prison. He was Mr. Music from the perfect home.
I suddenly was so sick of being me I didn’t even have words for it.
I spun down the stairs and marched down the street, knowing exactly what I needed.
A change.
“Oh, Emily.” Megan stood in the hallway, looking at me as if I’d just lost my beloved puppy in a horrific nuclear accident. “What have you done?”
“Nothing?” I tried to sound sure, but wondered if I’d gone nuts…and when. Today, or a few weeks ago, when Sage walked into The Brew.
We were standing there, facing off—her still in her club clothes, me in my now stained pajamas. She shook her head.
“Oh, honey.” She dropped her bag on the floor and came and wrapped me in a hug.
I wasn’t sure what to do. I just stood there, my arms limp at my sides, trying not to feel anything.
“What happened?”
I opened my mouth, still unsure what I was going to say, when I heard the key in the door behind us. We both turned, waiting for Ash to wander in.
She did, trying not to make any noise before she realized we were both standing in the middle of the hall. As soon as she saw me, she pushed the door shut with a slam.
“What the hell did he do?”
I tried again, my mouth opening with no sound coming out.
Then, before I could stop it, I was near shouting at her, “This is all your fault!”
“My fault?” Ash looked shocked. “I’m not the one who chopped off all your hair and dyed it…what color is that? Is that black, or a really dark purple?”
“Ash.” Megan gave her the What are you doing? look.
“Take a chance, you said.” I pointed at Ash as if she wouldn’t know I was talking
about her. “Go out on the limb, you tempted me.”
“Wait.” Megan waved a hand. “You asked Ash for guy advice?”
“She was here.”
“Does no one respect my specialties?” Megan waved her arms as if there was a crowd offstage she needed to attract.
“You have a specialty?” Ash asked, looking confused and annoyed.
“Boys. Boys are my specialty.”
“I thought Ubering was going to be your specialty.”
“That was going to be my job—in which I would probably offer boy advice.”
Ash snorted, and I glanced between them, a sick, annoying tennis match of an argument.
“Hey.” Megan took a step forward before turning on me. “I can’t believe you went to her over me.”
“I’m perfectly good at giving advice,” Ash stated.
I was trying to figure out what was going on when Megan all but shouted, “You asked the lesbian for boy advice.” She crossed her arms, then undid them to point at herself. “Me. I don’t have a bunch of talents, but she can’t have boys, too!”
“Relationship advice. And I’m great at relationships.”
“You suck at relationships.”
“I’m sorry, when was the last time you had a boyfriend?”
“Oh, as if your serial three-week monogamy spurts count.”
“More than Ms. I Dance You Buy Drinks See You Later.”
I’m sure Megan had a great comeback, but I tuned them out as I wandered into my dining-bedroom and crawled onto my mattress.
“Emily?” Two bodies collapsed on top of me, squishing me under my secondhand comforter.
“Yeah?”
“What happened?” Ash asked, pushing the spiky bangs I’d tried to give myself out of the way.
“He accused me of stealing from Zelda.”
I didn’t look up, but I could feel them silently communicating.
“Okay.” Ash pulled the comforter down—which was for the best, because it was getting hot under there. “Let’s fix your hair and you can tell us what happened as Megan—who has more talents than just boys—will clean up this cut you obviously gave yourself, okay?”
I climbed off the bed and into the shower they shoved me in, thinking nothing was ever going to be the same. That everything would always be the same. That I’d just keep living in that dining room working a bunch of jobs to squeak by, and never letting anyone else change that path.
