I suck in a breath, making a decision. “Yeah, we’re going toLeo’s.”
* * *
My phone’son silent for most of the day, through my classes and guitar lesson. I leave it off while I’m messing with part of the song Annie and I are doing for theshowcase.
When I unlock it back at home after grabbing a quick bite and showering to change for Leo’s, I pull up in the middle of the livingroom.
The voicemail button shows a new message, and my phone shows three missed calls from the samenumber.
I hit play on the voicemail, my abs clenching even before Jax’s voice barks from thespeaker.
“Why is my daughter at Vanier, Tyler? And don’t bother telling me you didn’t notice. You sat at my table last week and acted like nothing waswrong.”
Jax left me this voicemail this afternoon, whichmeans…
Annie.
I try her number but don’t get ananswer.
So, I grab my coat and head for Leo’s as quick as I can, turning over Jax’s call on theway.
I get that he’s pissed, but I’m pissed too. He didn’t tell me she was struggling last year. He made me believe she was better off withoutme.
Jax might be my mentor, but I will always have Annie’s back. Whatever she told him or didn’t, that’s their business, just like what’s between her and me isours.
I get to Leo’s and use the back door to get inside. The place is already filling up, and as the act on stage finishes to applause, I crane my neck to look around thebar.
Impatience clashes with worry in my stomach until I spot her through the crowd. I press between bodies to reachher.
“Annie. Wait.” I catch up to her near the stage doors. She’s wearing dark jeans and a tank top, her hair down in waves around her head, but even in the darkness, I can tell her eyes arepuffy.
I reach for her arms, but she steps back, her eyes filling with accusation. “My dad showed up today. He was pissed because he thought you should’ve told him I was at Vanier. Since you guys are sotight.”
“Six,” I say, careful. “I didn’t tell himanything.”
“So, you were in touch. How often? Once a week? Only onholidays?”
My hands fist at my sides. “I don’t know… Every couplemonths?”
“While I was crying over you, you were talking to my dad as if nothing was wrong.” Annie shakes her head, expression full ofdisbelief.
“It wasn’t likethat.”
“Like what? Like you chose him over me? Because that’s how itfeels.”
My gut twists, hard. She can’t possibly see it like that. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I can’t ever tell you how sorry. But I realized something this fall—we’re not over.” I step closer, and she angles her chin up to hold my gaze. I thread my fingers into her hair, cupping her neck in my hand. “We’re a song. You and me. What happened before was the first verse, and there’s so muchmore.”
Her fingers wrap around my wrist, but she doesn’t try to move away. “Don’t you ever wonder if maybe we’re meant to be alone?” Her voice is stilted, and every muscle in me strains against the urge to crush her against me. “The liars, the rebels, the dreamers. Up there on the stage, in the spotlight, we bleed to make other people feel. But in order to bleed, we have to bebroken.”
It takes a moment for me to catch up to her words. “No. I don’t think that.” I jerk my chin toward the door. “Let’s get out of here. Come back to my place. Or yours, I don’t care. We’lltalk.”
Annie sucks in a breath. “I don’t need to talk,Tyler.”
The firmness of her voice hits me squarely in the chest. “I’ve wasted months—years—pretending I don’t care about you,” I insist. “I’m not doing itagain.”
Annie’s eyes shine as she steps out of my hold, brushing her thumb across my palm before she drops my hand and movescloser.
“I care about you too. But my dad was right about one thing—it’s easy to be shortsighted. This showcase is my first real chance. And it’s your second, which matters evenmore.”