“The laughing symbolizes Declan’s incredible patience with a girl who knows nothing about music,” I said from the doorway.

Luckily, Declan had been too confused, and the other guy too excited about the deal to hear me come in. I’d been standing just inside the door for the last few minutes, eavesdropping. Not proud of it, but I definitely didn’t want to interrupt what sounded like great news for Declan. Because he so desperately needed some good news right now.

I held out the tray when they turned around and finally noticed me. “But he’ll definitely take her out.”

“Hey,” Declan said.

“Hey,” I said back. “Yours is the one on the right.” It was decaf. I knew it was dishonest, but seriously, the last thing he needed was caffeine. The first thing he needed was sleep. So, I’d made an executive decision he was better off not knowing about.

“Thanks.” Declan’s face was so pale, the circles under his eyes so dark. He walked over to me and took the coffees off the tray, so I could unpack the bag I’d been holding tucked between one arm and my side.

“I’m wrecked,” the other guy said.

Until he pulled the bottom of his T-shirt out to show off “REC’Ed” written in airbrushed graffiti, I thought he was referring to how he felt. And was about to tell him we all feel that way.

“But during daylight hours, you can just call me Ed.”

“Sara,” I said, shaking his hand. “You can call me that twenty-four seven. If I’d known you were here, I would’ve gotten you a cup of coffee, too.” I could’ve given him mine, but I needed it too badly to let it go.

“Thanks, but I don’t drink coffee—it messes with my temple.” After slapping his hand on his chest, he helped himself to one of the many cafeteria pastries I’d dumped onto the tray.

“I can see that,” I said as I watched Ed finish his first in two bites and reach for another. Then I held them out to Declan, hoping one of them would be so appealing he wouldn’t be able to refuse it. Unfortunately, it seemed he was the only one in the room—besides Trevor—who could refuse it. Hell, I’d planned on eating at least half the tray by myself. Carbs, especially sugar, help refuel the emotional well in times of stress.

“So, you’re the giggler?” Ed asked.

“Not something I imagined would be part of my legacy, but, yeah, I guess I’m the giggler. Sounds like a rejected comic book villain.”

“Ed,” Declan said, “if I agree to this plan, I don’t want to show my face.”

Ed laughed. “Because you’re so ugly?”

“I’m serious, man. Not on posters, albums, promotion, or onstage. You can do all of that shit, but no one ever knows it’s me who’s writing or singing.”

A nurse opened the door and peeked into the room. “I’m sorry, but a bike messenger dropped this off a bit ago. It’s for Declan Hollis? She said it was a legal document and was”—she rolled her eyes—“very insistent that the sender wanted someone give it to you right away.”

“Oh, fuck.” Without explaining his response, Declan took the envelope from the woman and cursed at least a half dozen more times before she made it all the way out of the room. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Wanna tell us what that envelope did to you to make you hate it so much, dude?” Ed asked.

Declan looked at me, terrified. “I already gave up.” Then he looked at Ed. “I can’t do it—what you and Trevor set up for me. I can’t do it because I already gave up.”

I took the envelope from him and pulled out a four or five-page document. As soon as I saw the letterhead, I understood why he was so freaked out. Another reason he was so freaked out.

I sat down and started skimming. “Let me read it before you panic.”

“Too late for that,” Ed mumbled.

I wasn’t an attorney, but I’d seen enough contracts to know this one had been slapped together. There were a bunch of typos and a few sentences that started but never went anywhere, as if someone had been a lot too hurried with their cutting and pasting. Evidently, Declan’s manager had done the same thing Emilia had—instead of using a master template, he’d written it up from scratch, copying legal-sounding bits from one and trying to force them into coherency for another.

After about five minutes, I understood enough to give Declan some good news. And some not-so-good news. “This gives Self Defense three months to be offered a recording contract.” And they would be on tour the whole time. “If the band hasn’t been signed by the end of that period, you agree to have Doug manage your solo career for a period of one year.”

“Fuck.” Declan leaned against Trevor’s bed and covered his face with his hand. “I’m sorry, man.”

“The good news is there are no mentions of your music, so you can do whatever you want with it. And Doug doesn’t get anything from any deal he doesn’t negotiate.”

He dropped his hands to look at me. “Really?”

“That’s great,” Ed said. “So, you can release it however you want to.”

I nodded. “Whatever money you earn from it is one hundred percent yours. He doesn’t get a dime.”

“Yeah, but if Self Defense doesn’t get signed…”

“If Self Defense doesn’t get signed, you’re screwed.”

“Fuck.”

“But— Now, remember, I’m not a pro, so you should get someone who is to look at it again.” God, I hoped I was right, though. “But the way it reads to me, Self Defense is an entity in and of itself. Nowhere in here does it say Self Defense is Declan, Pete, Sam, and Trevor.”

Declan nodded. “Probably because I told him we’d have to find another bassist. Three months isn’t enough time for Trevor to get better and rejoin the band.”

“Well, then, Trevor gave you a giant loophole to get out of the contract.” After reminding them not to get their hopes up too much because there was a distinct possibility I was wrong, I explained. “By not mentioning the band members by name, Doug unintentionally determined that, as long as a band called ‘Self Defense’ signs with a recording label, it doesn’t matter who the band members are.”

Ed came closer and looked at the contract over my shoulder. “So, Self Defense could be made up of the four Ninja Turtles, and it would work?”

“If they were good enough to be signed by a label.”

“You’d be off the hook, Declan.”

Declan didn’t look nearly as pleased as Ed did. “What are the chances I can pull off something in three months that we haven’t been able to make happen in three years?”

I cocked my head and looked at him. “I know you’re exhausted and overwhelmed right now, and that’s clouding your thinking. But after a good night’s sleep, I hope you remember telling me that the only way to turn yet into never is by giving up.”

He bent down in front of me and took the contract out of my hand. “My mind is clear enough to know what those three months are going to look like.” Instead of looking at it, or even ripping it up, he set it down on a side table, never letting his gaze leave mine.

“I’m going to be gone for three months, Sara. Minimum.” He pushed his hair off his forehead. “Any free time I have will be taken up by finding my replacement and trying to get Defense signed. And if I can’t, who knows what Doug has planned or how long I’ll be gone.”

My throat went dry. I had a few more months of school to finish before graduation, so going with him was impossible.

“Maybe after I finish school—”

“Do you really want to put your life on hold for a whole year? Follow me around while I’m miserable and being forced to do everything I hate about this business?” He shook his head. “I don’t want that for you.”

When the first tear slid down my cheek, Ed coughed and said he needed to use the bathroom. The door clicked closed ten seconds later.

“We don’t have to make any decisions right now,” he said softly. “We’ll both be swamped, so three months will probably feel like nothing. But whether or not I pull this off, you need to live your life. Don’t wait to see what happens to me. Okay?”

I couldn’t bring myself to nod, but I understood. Neither of us knew if he’d be free in three months or fifteen. I’d been ignoring life for too long already. If I didn’t start moving, I might wake up one morning and realize I’d wasted most of it.

“I’m going to use every minute of every day to make this happen.” He lifted my chin and kissed me lightly. My lips trembled until he pressed his lips against mine. I threw my arms around his neck and squeezed, breaking the kiss to cry into his chest.

“I won’t give up. On it or on us. You hear me?”

“Yeah,” a low, scratchy voice behind us said. “I hear you, man.”

We both turned to see Trevor. He still looked like shit, but at least his eyes were open.

“Trevor!”

I let go of Declan, so he could go to his friend. He didn’t let go of me, though. Instead, he pulled me along as if letting me go now would be letting me go forever.

“You’re awake,” Declan said in wonder.

“Yeah,” Trevor grumbled. “Now, shut the hell up so I can go back to sleep.”