Page 61 of Wildest Dreams

Her lips part to speak but she rolls them instead, shaking her head from side to side as I watch her eyes well. She pushes from the table and disappears upstairs.

I stand, eyes roaming between Pacey and my mom, waiting for one of them to tell me to follow her.

My mom rolls her eyes and I take that as my cue. Turning, I climb the stairs two at a time and stop outside her bedroom. Lifting my hand, I curl my index finger and hover it over the wooden door. Inhaling heavily, I knock softly.

She doesn't answer.

I knock again then push down the handle of the door, popping my head around the doorframe. And that's when I see her. Sitting at the edge of her bed. Tears soaking her cheeks, hands buried into the lap of her pretty white nightdress.

“Talk to me,” I usher softly, not stepping into her room until she asks me.

Her glistening eyes meet mine, and I watch as she sucks in a breath, bottom lip trembling.

I have no idea what the hell is going on, but what I do know is I don't like seeing her upset.

“Can I...” I pause for a moment as I push the door a little wider and she gives me a nod. Slowly stepping into her room, it's cosy. It's always just been a spare room with a single bed. Sage green walls, cream carpet, cream-stained oak furniture and a little lamp.

Sitting next to her, I place my own hands in my lap and we sit in silence.

She sniffles beside me and my heart aches.

“What’s going on Dix…” I trail off as her watery blue eyes meet mine.

“I can’t do it.”

“The funeral?” I ask stupidly, but I want her to say the words out loud, I want to hear it come from her lips.

She nods.

“Why? What’s changed… wasn’t that what you were coming back for?” and I hear the way her breath trembles on her intake, fresh tears streaming down her face, and she nods, eyes cast down into her lap as she picks the skin around her nailbed.

“There is so much you don’t know…” she whispers.

“Then tell me,” I reach my hand across, grabbing her chin softly and turning her head to face me. “I have nowhere else to go.”

That was a lie.

I had the funeral to go to.

But in this moment, she was more important than the funeral.

“That’s a lie,” she half laughs, half chokes out a sob.

“Okay, fine, but still, I’m not going anywhere,” my thumb pad brushes against her cheek, catching a tear that rolls from her beautiful eyes.

“When I left town, I was signed by a guy called Lucian.”

I nod. I have no idea who Lucian is but still, I find myself nodding as if I do.

“He promised me the world; the tours, the fame, the fortune—” she stutters.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she whispers, “but after a few months, things started to change. I was chained to him at every moment, I only done the shows he wanted me to, only toured where he said… and then Clay turned up.” She sniffles.

I stay mute for just a moment. I want her to keep speaking. I don’t want her to stop.

“He seemed so kind, he and Lucian were friends and that’s when I was thrown into a whole new world. I was taken to the city, to be wined and dined and shared amongst friends,” she swallows, and I see the way her throat bobs up and down, eyes glistening.

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