Page 23 of A Love Song for Dreamers

“For?” She sidesteps to let a man brush past her heading toward thebar.

I turn it over before answering. “Sanity.”

The fabric of my dark jacket absorbs the sun, and I’m heated from that and herattention.

She lifts her glass. “To sanity,then.”

“Amen.”

We bothdrink.

I swore if I saw the first woman I ever loved again—whenI saw her again—it would be like seeing an oldfriend.

But as my gaze runs over her pale skin and slick lips, it doesn’t feel like that atall.

It feels like every scar I’ve ever had is newagain.

“Ooof,” comes a noise from knee height as something slams into mylegs.

Sophie peers up with bright eyes from under dark bangs. Her little elbows try their best to clamp around my knees. “I got you, UncleTyler.”

“And what will you do withme?”

Sophie’s round face scrunches. “Cheese.”

“You’re going to turn me intocheese.”

“No.” Giggles rack her little body, vibrating through my legs. “There’s cheese up there.” She points to a high top table a few feet from the bar, lowering her voice as if we’re conspiringtogether.

Then she shrieks, delighted, as I boost her up on myhip.

“Does Annie like cheese?” Sophie asks as I walk us to thetable.

“I have watched your sister inhale her body weight in cheesefries.”

I let Sophie pick out a few chunks of cheese with a toothpick before setting her backdown.

“Want anything?” When I start to pass Annie a plate, her fingers brushmine.

“Be careful. Tyler has an ouchie,” Sophie intervenes from around a bite ofManchego.

Annie takes the plate but stares at the black rose on my hand, the vines winding down over my knuckles. “I heard it was three months before you startedplaying.”

When she saw my hand last, it was a mess of still-red gashes. Now, it’s covered in white lines, but the ink is all most peoplesee.

“I was reduced to singing for eighty-six days. The guys I toured with mocked me endlessly. Got my first surgery when we came back to theStates.”

There was still pain, but at least I had more control of my fingers. I remember the hope that came from the surgery, thinking it would be a cure-all, only to realize it had made a modest difference atbest.

“Did you tell the band to suckit?”

“Among other things.” My lips twitch at the corner and hers curve tomatch.

Suddenly, I’m remembering the feel of them under mine. I’m thinking of the things that mouth has done to me. The things I never had a chance to do withit.

I wish I could say we made it work with me on tour and her in New York, or even that wetried.

But that would be alie.

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