Page 43 of Before Eve
“Oh, Eve.” He leans in and presses a very soft, lingering kiss to my right cheek, and way down deep, something inside of me loosens. He gets to his feet and holds his hand out. “Come on, it’s getting cold. Let’s head back.”
Together we walk from the park and through the night back to our hotel. Outside my door, he gives me one more kiss on the cheek and I almost, almost, turn to meet his lips. When I walk into our room, Anne sits straight up in bed.
“Holy Noah with an ark, you’re alive.”
“Sorry.” I cringe.
She plops back down in bed. “Why didn’t you just hit Toby instead of running?”
I don’t feel like going back into this. I’m exhausted. “I will if it ever happens again. I’m sorry I worried you. West already gave me a piece of his mind.” I take my hoodie off and toss it onto my duffel. “They didn’t fight, did they?” God, I hope not.
“No. West shoved him, people stepped in, blah, blah, blah. I took off looking for you. Then West. The party continued. Almost everyone was drunk so it’s all kind of a blur. In case you were worried you made a scene.”
“I was. Thank you for that.”
Anne sits back up in bed. “Seriously, Eve, West was freaked outwhen he couldn’t find you.”
My emotions somersault. I’m happy he cares for me so much, but also guilty that I worried him so.
She grabs her phone and turns it off. She’s been up waiting on me to call, to text, to come back, and that thought punches me straight in the gut. Anne is a good friend—one I value and don’t want to lose.
“Can I hug you?” I ask.
She blinks. “Sorry, what? Did you say ‘hug me’?”
I nod.
She throws the covers aside and stands up. “Hell, yeah.” She spreads her tattooed arms. “Get your skinny ass over here.”
For the first time since meeting Anne, we share a hug. A hug I initiate. Just the thought makes me smile.
CHAPTER 22
October rolls to November.My days go by in this odd and lovely sort of bubble. I don’t think about anything other than the here and the now. I don’t see anyone odd or experience the feeling I’m being watched or followed. Not one single memory of my old life surfaces. It’s almost like it never even existed.
I sleep through the night. I go for my morning runs with West. Anne and I work alongside each other. It is literallylike I really am just Eve, the roadie.
Things between me and West are the same, but also different. I’ve become almost ridiculously responsive to him. Each time he grins, or speaks, or touches me, everything hums with an awareness that lingers even after he’s gone.
“You did a really good job today,” Ford compliments me, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Thanks,” I say, and it occurs to me that I set up his entire area all by myself. I knew exactly what to do with the equipment, where everything went, and how to connect it all as he prefers. “Ford, I appreciate you mentoring me. I’m learning so much working under you.”
He gives an embarrassed shrug, “Oh, now… Guys will be here in an hour for sound check.” He nods to my guitar. “You’re done for a bit. Why don’t you take a little downtime and relax.”
“That sounds good.” And so grabbing my guitar, I cradle it as I sit down behind the soundboard in my own little private area. I run my hands along the smooth finish, then my fingers pick over the strings to run through the warm up chords.
I transition into a melody I made up last year. A soft rhythm that drifts and surrounds me with comfort, one that offers apologies for the cruelties in my life and promises love and safety for enduring. It’s a rhythm that heals and settles as it flows through my very core, and as I strum the last chord I stay still, soaking in the gentle reverberation the guitar offers as it gradually quiets.
With a sigh, I slowly tune back in to my surroundings to see West standing off to the side, watching me. My lips curve. “Hi.”
“Eve,” he breathes. “That was beautiful.”
His compliment warms me, and I give a little shrug. “It’s just something I made up.”
“You made that up?” His brows lift. “That’s beyond good.”
“Thanks,” I say, wondering if it really is that good. Or…or if he’s just saying that.
