Page 19 of The Sound of Us

I pressed my cheek to his chest and caught a glimpse of us in the mirror over the makeshift bar. We looked good together, my body tucked perfectly against his, except for my ridiculous Cheshire cat smile.

Dante spun me around and my stomach heaved.

“I’m not feeling so good.” I pulled away as bile rose in my throat. “I think I had too many shots. I need some air.” Pushing my way through the crowd, I stumbled down the stairs and threw up in the bushes beside the house.

Dante held my hair until I was done and then left to let Isla and Haley know where I’d gone. He returned a few minutes later with a bottle of water and helped me over to the lawn, where we leaned against the trunk of a massive oak tree.

“I don’t usually drink,” I said, sipping the water.

He watched me, his eyes dark and warm, his smile cool and faintly amused. “I figured when you drunk-dialed me.”

“It was my last hurrah,” I continued. “I didn’t make the team and I haven’t been able to find any other funding options, so I’ll be leaving next week. I’m hoping to get into one of the local collegesin Denver. It should be affordable if I live at home and work for the next year. There are some DIII teams at local colleges in Denver… I think one of them even has a journalism course. It doesn’t have the prestige of Havencrest’s journalism program…”

My throat tightened and I sighed. Some of the country’s top journalists had graduated from Havencrest’s journalism program—people I deeply admired. I’d never get the same opportunities anywhere else—or the connections. But I had to let it go. If I got onto a DIII team, I might still be able to make it to the WNBA. It was highly unlikely, but it was a chance I had to take.

“I’m sorry, Skye.”

“It’s better this way,” I said, looking up at him. “I won’t have to rely on money that comes with strings and obligations. People can take away things they’ve given you, but they can’t take away something you’ve earned.” I’d learned that lesson early in life after being shuttled from foster home to foster home, having to leave toys and clothes behind.

“So, this is your farewell to Havencrest.” He rubbed his hand up and down my back in a soothing motion. “Drunk dials and partying with the worst frat on campus?”

“I haven’t had much practice with self-pity. I thought alcohol would be a good way to fill the new void in my life.”

“I can tell you from experience it’s not a good idea,” he said quietly.

I leaned back, resting against the tree beside him. “What was your poison?”

“Whiskey. It was the only alcohol in our house growing up. When that didn’t do the trick, I moved on to harder stuff. Zero out of ten. Don’t recommend. If I didn’t have my music…”

“Wait! Aren’t you supposed to be doing your show?”

“When you said you were here, I got the station manager to take over,” he said. “I was worried about you, and he was happy to have a chance to showcase some of his favorite tracks. He used to be a DJ, too, and I think he misses that personal connection.”

Another wave of nausea rolled through me, and I took a deepbreath, hoping I wouldn’t embarrass myself yet again. “Why do you care?” I asked bluntly. “You didn’t come by the coffee shop to ask about the tryout. For all you knew, I was already gone.”

“I knew you were still around.” He tipped his head back, looking up at the night sky through the branches and curling leaves. “I pass by the building every day on my way to class, and I could see you through the glass.”

“Why didn’t you come in and say hi?” I followed his gaze, but the sudden motion of my head made my vision swim and my stomach roil.

“I was kind of a dick before your tryout. I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me.”

Something bright bloomed in my chest. “You gave away my lemon squares.”

His head dropped and he caught my gaze. “There was only one kind of sweet I wanted.”

Wanted.I never got a chance to fully process his words.

One moment we were staring into each other’s eyes. The next, I was puking on the grass.

CHAPTER NINE“Dangerous” by David Guetta, Sam MartinDANTE

Bob Gregory had been handling our family’s legal matters since before I was born. His office was at the top of a steel-and-glass tower in The Loop, and it hadn’t changed in the ten years since I’d last been to see him.

I helped myself to coffee and cookies in the meeting room after a suspicious receptionist called security to stand outside the door. Clearly, the city’s top law firm didn’t have many clients who showed up dressed in a leather jacket, heavy metal band shirt, and a variety of chains.

“Dante.” Bob’s worn, lined face showed no expression when he walked in to find me lounging back in the leather chair, my feet up on the shiny mahogany table. But then as a lawyer and fixer for businessmen in the upper echelons of power, including those like my father who were involved in organized crime, his poker face was part of the job. “Nice to see you again. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to catch up last month at your grandmother’s funeral.”

“I can’t say the same.” I didn’t get up to shake his hand. I had no respect for the man that helped my father get away with his crimes.

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