She walks to the center of the room and turns to face me. “Daltrey, I’m sorry.”
I barely register her words. I’m still shocked to see her. “How did you get here?”
“My dad brought me. The girls told me what hotel you were at.”
I shake my head, trying to process the fact that she’s here. “Wait a second.” I hold up my hand as something occurs to me. “Did you just apologize?”
She nods. She looks terrified, but she’s holding my gaze steadily. “I’m so sorry for running away like that. Again.”
I cross the room in two steps to stand in front of her. “Are you kidding? This was all my fault. I’m the one who screwed up, Daisy. I didn’t go there to beat him up. I just wanted to make sure he knew I was on your side, to try to protect you. But I got so mad when I thought—” I take a deep breath, trying to get some control. “You have to know that I had no idea any of this would happen. I should have. I should have guessed, but I didn’t, and I’m so, so sorry.”
She holds up her hands. “I know you didn’t mean any harm, Daltrey. I’m not angry at you.”
“You’re not?”
She shakes her head. “No. I’m really not. I am angry at myself, though, because I shouldn’t have run.”
“No one could blame you.”
“I want you to know something,” she says, her voice low and almost husky. It sends goose bumps down my arms. “I’m done running. I’m done hiding. I’m done letting other people’s actions control my life. From now on, I’m going after what I want.”
“And what’s that?” I hold my breath.
She looks up at me, her green eyes blazing. For one second, I think I see a glimmer of fear, but then it disappears as if she pushed it away. “I want you, Daltrey.”
I pull her into my arms, the need to feel her there, safe and whole, overwhelming. She wraps her arms around my back, squeezing me tighter than I would have thought possible.
“I love you,” she says.
“God, Daisy, I love you so much.”
Her hair is pressed against my cheek, the soft curls that I’ve always loved somehow making me want to weep. Then she goes up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine. Her mouth is warm and demanding, and I’m pretty sure I let out some kind of strangled, triumphant cry before I’m kissing her back.
We’re on the bed within seconds, her hands tugging on my shirt. After I help her pull it off, she leans forward to kiss the daisy on my chest. I return the favor, taking off her shirt and running my lips gently across the tattoo of my song lyrics on her side, making her skin erupt in goose bumps.
“I can’t tell you how much I love that this is on your body,” I whisper, “that my words are with you forever, no matter where you go.”
She shakes her head, her eyes warm and full of something that looks like joy. “They always were, Daltrey.” She places my hand directly over her heart. “Right here.”
Then she’s kissing me again, and I lose my ability to think clearly. All I know is Daisy, the taste and smell and feel of her. I need to be inside her, need to consume her the way she’s consuming me.
When I finally move inside of her, it’s everything I remembered from that one perfect night we shared. Her skin soft under my hands. Her body arching up to meet mine. My name on her lips. Her breath in my ears. There’s nothing that I need more than this, nothing in the world that could compare to loving this girl.
We come apart together, clutching each other tightly, crying out. My last cognizant thought is that Daisy will be here when it’s over to help put me back together again.
***
“We need to get up,” she says into my chest twenty minutes later.
“No way.” I tuck the sheet more firmly under her arms. “We’re not going anywhere.”
“You have sound check.”
“Fuck sound check.”
“Terrible language,” she admonishes. “What are you, into that evil rock and roll music or something?”
I laugh. “I want to stay right here, all night.”
“Me too. But you really do have to get out there. You have a show.”
I groan. I know she’s right. In fact, I should have been there ten minutes ago. But how am I supposed to move when Daisy Harris is here, naked in my bed? It’s cruel and unusual punishment.
She leans up to kiss me, her long hair trailing around my face. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”
“Well, that’s pretty motivating.”
She laughs and kisses me before rolling over and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.
“Where are you going? I thought you were going to be here when I got back?”
She looks over her shoulder at me, a little line of confusion down the middle of her brow. “I’m going with you. To the show.”
I sit up, pulling her into my lap and wrapping my arms around her. “There’s a lot of press. Outside and at the venue. Maybe you should stay here.”
She straightens her shoulders. “I told you, Daltrey, I’m done hiding. If I see reporters, I’ll deal with it. But I’m going to be wherever you are.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, you know.”
She smiles. “Actually, I do. I want to show everyone in the world that it takes a lot more than some assholes on the Internet to break me.”
I thought I couldn’t love her more, but I was wrong. Every time she shows me just how brave she is, just how beautiful, how kind and perfect, I fall a little more. “I love you.” But the words are inadequate. I could tell her a million times, write a hundred songs to her, make love to her every day, and it still wouldn’t be enough to really show her.
But when she grins, her green eyes alight and happy, and says, “Well, duh,” I get the feeling that maybe, somehow, she really does know.
Epilogue
Daisy
“You’re doing amazingly well,” the reporter says, giving me her toothpaste-ad smile. “We’ll take five, okay?”
I nod, returning her smile, and she leaves us sitting on the couch.
“She’s right, you know,” Daltrey says, squeezing my arm. “You are doing amazingly well.”
I flip my hair over my shoulder. “Piece of cake,” I say, in my best bored-celebrity voice.
Daltrey laughs. “I mean it. You’re composed and calm. I would never guess that this is the first time you’ve done a TV interview.”
I shake my head a little. Does he really not get how easy he makes it for me to do pretty much anything just by sitting next to me?
A young woman with a headset comes over to bring us fresh water, which is quite welcome under these hot television lights.
“Thank you,” Daltrey tells her, grinning.
The woman blushes and mumbles something as she practically runs away. I try hard not to laugh at the poor girl, but I can’t blame her. His smiles affect me the same way.
The producer approaches us next, a very kind but busy and fast-talking woman named Gina. She consults her clipboard. “We’re nearly done. I think we’ve covered pretty much everything about the initiative and the fundraising.” She checks a few things off on her sheet.
I feel a rush of relief. For all my swagger, this is taking a toll on me. Daltrey and I are doing this joint interview to launch our anti-bullying initiative, so it’s only natural that we’ve been asked so many questions regarding my experiences. But that doesn’t make it any easier to relive.
The morning after the final show in the tour, we jumped on a plane for Mexico. We spent a week, sleeping, making love in our suite, and talking for hours and hours about everything we had been through in the past year. It was both exhausting and strangely calming to get it all out there. When I told him about how alone I had felt, how hard it was to speak up and ask for help, how little the school had been able to do, his face had gotten stony with anger.
The very next day, he asked me if I would be interested in helping him to set up an anti-bullying organization. With his money
and profile and my experiences, he thought we could help a lot of people. I was hesitant, not really wanting to open myself up to all of that. But the idea nagged at me until I finally relented.
And I was so glad I did. I was working hard, both on the organization’s launch and on helping Ransom get ready for their next tour, which was starting in a little less than a week. I fell into bed every night, tired but happy, feeling as though I might actually be able to make a difference. It also helped that I was falling into bed with Daltrey most nights.
“So since we have most of the details down,” the producer went on, “would you mind if we asked you a few questions about your relationship?”
Daltrey looks at me, eyebrows raised. “Doesn’t bother me.”
I nod. “Okay.”
A few minutes later, the makeup team has touched up our faces with powder, a fact I promise I will never let Daltrey live down. The reporter returns to resume the interview.
“Daltrey,” she says, wearing that big smile again, “it’s so obvious to everyone who sees you how much you care about Daisy. You’ve known each other for a long time, right?”
He nods, looking over at me. “Yeah, we have. Since we were about five.”
“And how would you describe your relationship?”
He looks away, and I can tell that he’s concentrating, wanting to get the words just right. “You know, I never liked the term ‘soul mate.’ It inevitably has romantic connotations, and Daisy and I have always been more than that.” He returns his gaze to me, and it’s steady and sure. “So much more than that. She’s my best friend, my greatest supporter, the person who knows me better than anyone else in the world. She is, quite literally, the matching part of me, the other half of my soul.”
His words hit me right in the chest, bringing tears to my eyes. I couldn’t have said it better. He is the other half of my soul. And he always has been.
The reporter turns to me, but I laugh and wave her away, too overcome to talk. I lean against Daltrey, his arm strong around me, and listen while he handles the rest of the interview like the pro that he is.
I never could have imagined that things would turn out like this, which isn’t to say that my life is perfect. Paige and Karen have returned to school, and I miss them both desperately. I still struggle with my panic attacks, though Dr. Jacobs and I have started having sessions over Skype, which helps a lot.
Maybe worst of all, I’m still not sure Levi will be joining us. I struggled for a long time over whether or not to tell Daltrey about what happened at the cabin. I finally decided the only way our relationship would be successful is through honesty, so I told him everything. To say he’d been pissed at Levi was an understatement. If possible, he got even angrier when I told him that Levi had confessed to having feelings for me. I’m not sure they’ll ever be friends again.
It makes me sad. Dr. Jacobs assured me it was okay, healthy even, to have feelings of anger toward Levi for lying to me. For the most part, though, those feelings have faded. I can never forget the way he took my hand in the hotel that night, agreeing to help me without a second thought. I figure a person like that is the kind of friend both Daltrey and I need in our lives. Lennon has been trying to convince Levi to resume his role with the band. I hope he comes around. I really can’t imagine being out there on the road without him.
But I do know, with every fiber in my being, that I’ll have the strength to get through any of these challenges and whatever else the world wants to throw at me. I have Daltrey, and his support makes me braver than I ever knew I could be.
It’s more than that, though, more than just having a great boyfriend or a job I enjoy. I’ve been through some terrible things in the last two years, but I’ve come out on the other side, strong and sure of myself. My friends helped me, as did my dad, Dr. Jacobs, and Daltrey. But in the end, I’m the one who did it. I’m the one who got through it, every day, no matter what.
I used to worry that there wasn’t any hope, that I would end up like my mother because I was weak and the world was cruel. The world can be cruel, but it’s also full of wonderful, beautiful things. Like good friends. Music. Laughing until you cry. The view from the very top of the Empire State Building. Things like love.
And as long as I can remember all of those things, I will never lose my hope again.
The End
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rachel Schurig is the best-selling author of the Three Girls series, available now in paperback and ebook. Rachel lives in the metro Detroit area with her dog, Lucy. She loves to watch reality TV, and she reads as many books as she can get her hands on. In her spare time, Rachel decorates cakes.
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Table of Contents
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Ransom Page 28
