Page 128 of Dear Rockstar (Dear Rockstar 1)

I handed it back to him without a word. He replaced it in the letter box.

“You know,” I said softly as he sat back down in his chair. “Before right now, I was sure Maine was exactly where I wanted to spend the rest of my life. I wanted to...” I hesitated, groping for the words that would encompass the feeling. “I wanted to settle there.” It was the closest I could come to how I felt.

“And now?” John asked when I didn’t go on.

I shook my head.

Dale had told me I was putting all the wrong pieces together when it came to Tyler and he’d known exactly what he was talking about, of course.

But he’d been willing to let me find out on my own. He’d never once told me not to enter the contest, not to go to Maine.

It was all too much to take in at once. My brain was on overload.

But it was my heart, still beating in my chest like a steady drum, that knew the truth. It didn’t matter where I settled—if Dale wasn’t there, I wouldn’t be happy. I wouldn’t ever be happy without him.

Dale appeared at the end of the hallway.

I jumped up, ready to tell him so, ready to give it all up for him—because without him, there was nothing.

Then I saw he had his coat and his shoes on.

And he looked furious.

“I’m going out,” he said coldly, not even glancing at me. “I’ll be back before midnight.”

He headed for the door and I watched him, my heart sinking.

“Where are you going?” John called.

Dale hesitated, hand on the doorknob.

He glanced back, looking straight at me. “I’m going to spend some time with someone who appreciates me. If you want me, call Holly Larson’s. She’s listed in the phone book.”

The door clicked shut softly behind him and my heart stopped in my chest.

He’d just taken it with him, right out the front door.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

We met up at the hospital three days later.

“Who called you?” I asked, seeing Dale talking to a nurse at the desk as I was coming out of Aimee’s room. Matt and her mother were still in there, but I couldn’t stand it, not for another minute. I couldn’t stand myself—for not seeing, not saying something, not paying enough attention.

Again.

Selfish.

Dale had been right about me.

“Sara?” He grabbed me by the upper arms, pulling me aside, looking me up and down like he thought I might be hurt. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” I asked, realizing he obviously didn’t know about Aimee.

“My dad was in an accident.”

My hand flew to my mouth. “No!”

“He’s fine,” Dale insisted, shaking his head. “Whiplash. They’re keeping him overnight for observation.”

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