Page 17 of For Eva

He was so visibly nervous that a spurt of laughter erupted from Denise, which she tried to mask by clearing her throat.

Danny’s eyes flicked back and forth between us. “What?”

I nudged Denise’s arm, and she immediately covered her mouth.

“Nothing,” I said. “You guys were really good. And thanks. For the song.”

His breathing slowed, and his shoulders and jaw relaxed. “Yeah? That was…okay?”

Okay?Sure, it was okay—if feeling like I’d stepped into a pair of ruby slippers, clicked my heels together, and returned to the last time and place I’d felt happy and safe and loved wasokay. But it was so much more than that. It was magical. It was beautiful. And it was terrifying because I knew all too well how quickly those feelings could be ripped away. But I didn’t know how to tell him that, so I simply nodded and dropped my eyes to the ground, pressing my lips together as a stinging sensation pricked at my eyes and nose.

“All right, kids, I gotta run,” Denise announced. “But you’ve got my address and the spare key, right?” She’d confirmed I hadboth on the way to the show and right after, so I knew that was her way of asking me if it was okay to leave.

“Got it,” I assured her, patting my purse. “Do you want us to walk you to your car?”

“Nah, I’m fine.” She touched my elbow and smiled at me before turning her attention to Danny. “Good show tonight, dude. You guys are way better than I thought you’d be. But don’t tell Matt I said that.”

He chuckled, a look of feigned confusion on his face. “Said what?”

“Nice.” Denise twisted up one corner of her mouth before starting down the sidewalk. “Oh, and just FYI, Danny,” she called over her shoulder. “I don’t really have a gun. But I can totally get one.”

Danny gave her a thumbs-up. “Loud and clear, Denise.”

She laughed and winked, then sauntered off toward her car.

Danny reached into the front pocket of his shirt and pulled out a pack of Marlboros. “Why do I get the feeling that even though she’s the size of a fucking Chihuahua she could totally kick my ass?”

He looked down as he dug into his jeans trying to find his lighter, and I tried to laugh at his comment. To act like everything was fine—normal, even. Like standing in front of him didn’t make me want to fall into his arms and forget all the bad that happened in the past. Like picturing him leaving all over again didn’t make me want to collapse into a heap on the sidewalk.

Danny reached around to his back pocket, finally locating the red BIC. “I mean, that chick’s pretty fierce, am I right?”

My chin quivered as the flame cast a warm glow across his face, and when he brought his eyes up to mine, I lost control, sobbing into my hands.

“Shit. What’d I say?” The callused tips of his fingers grazed the sides of my shoulders, rough yet reassuring against my skin. “Was it the thing about Denise? That was just a joke.”

I shook my head, then leaned into him, burying my face in his neck. The smell of smoke and sweat and cinnamon was familiar and comforting, and when he wrapped his arms around me, my body went limp. For a moment, I forgot we were standing in the middle of West Hollywood, surrounded by a throng of people who had to have been wondering if someone had died, if a boy had broken my heart, or if I was just an average twentysomething girl having a breakdown on a Saturday night.

The sad truth was, it was all three.

“Let’s get outta here, okay?” Danny whispered.

I nodded as he steered me away from the crowd, the streetlights hazy blurs of yellow and white through my watery eyes. Voices echoed in the alley behind the club where Danny’s car was parked. He opened the passenger’s side door to the Bronco for me, then threw his guitar into the trunk before climbing inside and tucking the hair that hung in my face behind my ear.

“Are you okay?”

I swiped my fingers under my eyes. “I didn’t mean to lose it. It’s just that last night, this morning, the show, the song…it’s so fucking much, Danny.” I leaned back against the seat, teardrops rolling down the sides of my cheeks. “So fucking much.”

“I feel like this is my fault. I mean, itismy fault, I know. But I…Fuck, I don’t know what I mean.”

My breath shuddered. “I think my problem is that I don’t know what you mean, either.”

He opened his mouth, a soft rasp escaping before he shut it.

“So what is it, Danny? Whatdoyou mean?” I turned and held his gaze like I held onto the hope that I hadn’t misconstrued every word, every look, and every touch over the past twenty-four hours. “You asked for a chance to tell me this morning, and I’m giving it to you now. Tell me what you mean. Tell me what you want.”

His eyes glistened in the flickering light attached to the building beside us. “I…I’m not sure.”

I stared at him, the wind completely knocked out of me like I’d been sucked through the window of the car and slammed against the pavement.

---