Page 41 of The Bridges I've Burned

“Thank you.” I gave her a wink, and with a hand on Elena’s back, I got us the hell out of there.

“A fan of yours?” she asked, a mischievous grin on her face.

“Nah,” I said casually, shaking my head. “She probably just confused me for someone else.”

Elena eyed me suspiciously. “She seemed to recognize you pretty quickly.”

Yeah, that was because she had. It wasn’t the first time it had happened. I’d toured with some big bands in the past, but not long enough to be recognized.

Not until Manic.

The first time had been standing in line for coffee in Melrose. The girl was in her mid-twenties and gorgeous. She walked up to me with a hesitant smile. I returned it tenfold, wondering if it was my damn birthday or something.

But then she’d asked, “Are you Zander Tate?”

It was a name I mostly saw on paper—a decision Lance and I had made a long time ago to separate me from my career.

And my career from my past.

Hearing it out loud…

I didn’t know if I’d even answered the girl.

I just remembered leaving the coffee shop, knowing my life would never be the same. It was about to get a hell of a lot worse.

“I’ve toured with a few bands that are pretty notable.” That was the understatement of the century. Manic at Midnight had just won a Grammy for the fourth year in a row despite losing their lead guitarist. “It’s possible she saw me with one of them.”

“How notable?” she probed.

Think, think, think.

“I did a few concerts with Vertigo,” I said casually.

Her eyes widened. “No shit?”

I nodded. Vertigo was an up-and-coming band. Their first single hit the charts and not too long ago, and since then, they’d been gaining notoriety. Clearly, Elena was a fan.

I was, too. They were a good group.

“I love the lead singer’s voice. She reminds me of a young Amy Lee.”

I was once again blown away by her musical prowess. “They actually did a cover of an Evanescence song at the end of one of their shows I did.”

“Seriously?” Her voice was nearly an octave higher. I loved it.

“Yeah, it was pretty epic,” I replied, now kind of regretting it. Had I given her too much information? That concert could be found with a Google search.

“Elena!” someone said behind us.

She turned, and I caught the side of her face light up with recognition.

“Molly!” she exclaimed, pulling the blonde into a tight hug.

I watched the encounter with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity.

How often did Elena come to Ocracoke that she knew its residents so well?

The two women pulled back, and Elena turned. “Not sure if you remember?—”

---