Two months later

With the band on the road, the house is quiet and empty. But Sean was right. I needed time. I need the space. I don’t worry about him because he’s not here, and that gives me room to better myself without judgment or expectation. I started the summer with a lofty to-do list, but I’m making a huge dent in it.

Before he left, Sean connected me with one of the Off Track Records lawyers. They were able to expedite the process of obtaining my legal documentation. After all the years of having none, it was almost too much to hope for. With my birth certificate and social security card in hand, I’m finally able to make an honest and good life. Get a job. Hopefully, someday, go to college.

During the process I requested my foster care case record. I wasn’t sure what I would unearth, if anything at all, but I needed to know what happened the day I ran away. I needed to make peace with my past, even if it meant I’d have to face further consequences. But the fire Amo set hadn’t killed anyone. All these years I stayed away in fear of being blamed for arson, or worse, murder. A guilt I hadn’t even realized I held tight lifted the minute I discovered everyone had survived. I could finally move on.

Next was working toward my GED. Deb helped me find an accelerated prep class at the community college, and enrolling there felt like a huge milestone. It was scary navigating the bus system all on my own, but also exhilarating. For the first time in forever I was doing something big for no one other than myself.

Sean set me up with a checking account and credit card before he went on the road. I didn’t want to accept his gift. I wanted a fresh start. I hope that someday we might be able to have a healthy, non-codependent relationship, and I didn’t see how taking his money would be a good building block to that. I finally accepted his generous offer, but only after he conceded to my terms. I promised to pay him back, penny for penny, for whatever amount I use.

Which I fully intend to do.

Next, I found a therapist.

The idea of being indebted to someone else, even Sean, is enough to churn my stomach and bring on anxiety. It’s something I’m working through in my counseling sessions. It’s also difficult for me to understand why he would want to give me so much when I’ve given him so little. But she’s helping me realize that this tally system I’ve operated within is not how people who love each other behave.

And I love Sean. I’m scared as hell to say the words aloud, but with every fiber of my being I know it’s true. That alone is motivation enough for me to get my life in order before he returns.

The band has a tour break scheduled just a few weeks from now and I cannot wait to see him again. Sure, he’s offered to fly me out to catch a show before then. To meet them in some town and spend a night or two together before the band rolls onto the next stop, but I don’t want to be another groupie, or some girl along for the free ride. He said he would wait for me, and I believe him. Besides, we’ve made it through two months already, I can make it a little longer. Our reunion seems the perfect way to conclude the best summer of my life.

Today after class I hop on the bus, but instead of taking it home, I catch an earlier stop and transfer toward Beverly Hills. I’m in the mood to celebrate after passing another practice test. Window shopping is the perfect end to another perfect day. I won’t buy anything, but the high end boutiques here on Rodeo are filled with the exact products I hope to one day design.

Shoes, bags, accessories, and clothing—my gaze drinks up each signature touch. I stroll from window to window, entranced by the textures, colors, and fits. I stop as a gown catches my attention.

Ooff! “Oh, my God!” a woman exclaims as she tumbles into my back and sends me stumbling forward a step. “I’m so sorry!” She reaches out to catch me before I slam against the glass.

“It’s fine.” I straighten and turn to meet her stare.

“It’s totally not fine. I’m so sorry!” Her head bobs and hair swishes from where it’s pulled back into a high ponytail. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking and that was so rude. I could have knocked you over!” She looks familiar, as if I’ve maybe met her before but my mind can’t place her.

“Injury by window shopping. It’s not the worst thing to happen.” I shrug and laugh in an attempt to settle her worries. I know people can be uptight, but she didn’t careen into me on purpose.

“Oh, my God, you are too sweet. I still feel horrible.” She glances at the window. “What were you looking at?”

“Oh, um . . .” I glance around and notice several people have gathered at a distance, some taking their phones out as if they’re snapping pictures or recording us. “Everything really, but that gown is stunning. I’ve never seen beading like that on gray cotton. It almost has a street-couture feel.”

“You’re a designer?” Her gaze lights up and her smile lifts with her brows. “I have to introduce you.” She doesn’t wait for my response, hooking her arm in mine and pulling me toward the door. “Paula and I go way back. She’s amazing!”

“Oh, I’m not a designer. Not yet.”

“Even better.” She drops my arm to step inside, her smile pulling wide with her pink painted lips. That’s when it hits me where I’ve seen her. Cora Bentley. She’s America’s sweetheart. Blockbuster films. Hit television shows. She’s done it all. Her face is plastered on all my favorite magazines.

“Cora!”

“Paula!” She turns to greet the woman with a kiss to each cheek. “I have someone I’d like you to meet. She’s an up and coming designer.”

“Aspiring,” I quickly clarify. “Jessica Moore. It’s so nice to meet you.”

“She called your piece in the window street-couture.” Cora raises a brow.

“That’s exactly what I was going for!” Paula presses her hand into her chest before holding it out to me. “So nice to meet you, Jessica. Thanks for stopping by the store. Do you live around here?”

“I just got out of class, actually, but not too far from here.”

“Feel free to look around. Let me know if you have any questions. I wish I could chat, but I’ve got a custom design to finish up and one of my girls just quit.” She rolls her eyes and blows out a rush of breath.

“Oh, no.” Cora sighs.

“Yeah, you’d be surprised at how difficult it is to find reliable help! When I was starting out, I would have killed for a job like this. I mean, I know it’s not all glamorous, but the experience alone would have been invaluable.”

Cora meets my stare and arches an eyebrow. My keenness for her grows leaps and bounds. She doesn’t even know me, but it’s clear what she’s suggesting.

“I’m actually looking for work.” I can’t believe the words make it from my mouth without wavering. My stomach lurches at the immediate desire to snatch them back or apologize for being so forward.

“Oh, yes! That’s perfect!” Cora claps, glancing between us.

Paula rests her manicured hand on the counter and gives me a long look, starting at my shoes and settling on my face. It’s so tempting to fidget under her gaze, but I’m proud that I don’t. Heck, I even hold a smile.

“What do you say, Jessica Moore? Shall we give it a go?”

It seems too easy. At the very least, unexpected, but who am I to pass up such an amazing opportunity. “It would be an honor.”

She grins, turns her back, walks around the counter. “I’ll have you fill out an application.” Her heels tap against the wooden floor with each step.

Cora waggles her brows and reaches out, squeezing my hand with a smile as if we’re already the best of friends. Her familiarity is unearned and I envy her ability to be so open with a total stranger.

I walk over to fill out paperwork and Cora follows, browsing a display of jewelry and chatting with Paula. I jot down the answers to the questions with a calm I don’t really feel. A job! A real freaking job! Not sweeping floors and washing hair for a few bucks under the table. It’s as if the universe is making up for all the hardships I’ve endured and sending opportunity after opportunity my way.

I’m almost done with the paperwork as Sweet Lies, the newest Three Ugly Guys single pipes through the stereo and Cora begins to hum along.

“I can’t believe you like them.” Paula scoffs but her smile shows she’s teasing.

“They’re great and I love this song!” Cora laughs. “Don’t hate. Not every song has to start a revolution. Some are meant to sing and dance along to.”

“Too commercial for me.” Paula scrunches her nose.

“Jessica? Please tell me you have good taste in music,” Cora says, but I can tell she’s only giving her friend a hard time.

“Don’t worry, I’m a pretty big fan myself.” I can’t hide the esteem from my tone. Even my skin heats just thinking about them. No, not them, just one. “I’m actually good friends with Sean Willis.”

Cora’s jaw drops and her eyes widen. “What? No way!” She blinks and shakes her head. “How are we not already best friends? I’ve known Trent, Sean, and Austin for years!”

“That’s crazy,” I say and hand my application over to Paula.

“You made this hella easy.” She skims through my answers. “I didn’t even have to post the position or sift through idiots who can’t even hold a conversation.” She frowns and taps against the paper. My hope suspends with that one look and I just know she’s come to the section noting previous employment. It’s empty because I haven’t legally worked a day in my life. Crap. I knew this was too good to be true.

Her brow creases with her frown. “Jessica, you didn’t list a desired salary.” Her gaze lifts to mine and I’m stunned silent. That’s what she’s concerned about?

“Oh, I’m good with whatever. The experience alone is more than I could gain elsewhere.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Cora interjects and meets her friend’s gaze with a smile. “Paula makes good money with her brilliant designs. She can afford to pay you a just wage.”

Paula rolls her eyes and for a second I fear Cora’s insulted her. “Please, Cora. Tell that to the producers of your last movie.” She turns her gaze back to me. “I can do twenty an hour until you’ve proven yourself. After a month, we’ll re-evaluate. I really need someone here in the afternoons. Two to close? Will that be a problem?”

It couldn’t be better. “Yes. I’m mean, thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Start tomorrow? Bring two forms of ID and we’ll make copies then.”

I nod and smile because for the first time in my life, that won’t be a problem. “I’ll be here tomorrow at two.”

“Good. Now, I hate to be a bore, but I have to kick you both out. I have a design to finish.”

I walk to the door with Cora, waiting as she stops to hug Paula and wish her good-bye. “Thank you again.” I shake Paula’s hand before we step outside and she locks up behind us.

“That was okay? Sorry, I can be pushy.” Cora winces before giving in to a smile.

“Okay? That was amazing.” My mind races with excitement. I cannot wait to tell Sean. Deb, too. They’ll be so proud. I’m proud.

“Yay!” Cora clasps her hands together. “We must celebrate, then. My treat.”

“Oh, you don’t have to . . .” I shake my head. “You’ve already done so much.”

“I insist. Besides, I need to know everything about the woman Sean Willis is hiding away.” Her words strike a chord of insecurity. By the alarm on her face I do a poor job of masking my reaction. “That came out wrong!” Her brows rise and she reaches for my arm. “I only meant that I haven’t seen him in months, and anyone who’s a friend of Sean’s should be one of mine. He’s a good person.”

“I’d like that.” I push away the niggling thought that she’s insincere or has an ulterior motive. With my past, I don’t always expect the best in people. It’s something I’m working on.

“Good. Now, how do you feel about tacos? Because that’s also a means I use to measure friendship compatibility.” Her stare turns serious, but she’s obviously acting.

“We’re good there. I love Mexican food.” A giggle escapes my lips.

She locks her arm through mine again and walks us down the street. “Good. Because that’s where I’m taking you.”