Page 206 of Deliverance

“Where’s that?”

“Riverside County. I would have crossed continents for you, Drew.”

Although I’m heavily medicated, I can still feel the heat spreading over my face. “How long was I unconscious?”

“A little over twelve hours. They had you on morphine.”

“No wonder I feel so loopy.” I attempt to laugh but it sounds more like fingernails on a chalkboard.

“The hospital called your mother as soon as you arrived and she got on the first available flight out of Denver.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“No. Just my manager. But he’s cool.”

My head starts to throb and I have to close my eyes for a second to stop everything from spinning.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Zander whispers. “I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in years, my body—despite all the damage and pain—relaxes. I will the stinging tears welling up in the corners of my eyes to stay put, but they run down my cheeks in thick rivulets, blurring Zander’s features.

“You came for me.” I choke out a sob as he presses his lips to my palm, my shame tangling with the other emotions lodged somewhere beneath my ribs. “Even after what I did to you, you still came.”

“It’s okay, baby.” He gently pushes a stray wisp of hair from my forehead, then wipes the moisture from my face with his thumb. “I’ll always find you.”

I want to say more, but the tears keep spilling and spilling and he keeps brushing them away and I realize that crying is fine.

Crying isn’t a sign of weakness.

It’s a sign of intense feelings.

33 Zander

“So I’m finally seeingyou play live tonight,” Drew says, her soft lips feather my cheek. She smells like tangerines and I want to lick her from head to toe. I want to drown in her scent so badly.

We’re in the back of a limo with the privacy screen up. A bottle of champagne rattles softly in the bucket filled with crushed ice as we push through the evening traffic on Sunset. Drew’s stunning in her sleeveless emerald-green dress that hugs her curves and pools on the floor around her shoes. Part of me almost doesn’t want to go to this listening party. Instead, we could just drive around L.A., staring at its strange architecture and eating tacos.

Too bad I’m one of the performers. As much as my heart craves intimacy tonight, I can’t let Leo down.

On the other side of the tinted window, the buildings and the crowds cramming the street drift by in a darkened blur.

“You’ve seen me play a thousand times,” I tell Drew, squeezing her hand.

“In your basement?” She cocks her brow, a hint of a smirk cutting through her cheek. “That doesn’t count.”

“Not a basement.” I laugh. “Studio.”

“Semantics.” She rolls her eyes and burrows her forehead into my chest, ignoring the fact that her hair starts coming apart from the knot she worked on all afternoon.

For the next few minutes, we just sit in complete silence, and suddenly, I think back to the horror of the cold February night five months ago when I almost lost her. I think about the feel of her frozen fingers and the blood on her dress. I think about the two dreadful miles I walked, just to get us to safety, and I think about the phantom pain sometimes twisting my arms in my sleep. I think about how I wake up in the middle of the night with a huge knot in my stomach, terrified that she’s gone, terrified that she’s not in my bed.

And then I think about the lifeless body of a man, whom I left on the side of a hill somewhere in the San Jacinto mountains…and I remember that he’s dead.

He’s not coming back for her.

“Are you nervous?” Drew asks suddenly, pulling back a little and tilting her head up to meet my eyes.

“Sorta,” I confess.

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