Keep

“Are you okay?” Zane gripped my hand. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

I nodded, afraid that if I used words, I’d puke or maybe just sob all over him—that wouldn’t be fair, none of this was his fault.

And yet, none of it was mine.

It would be so much easier to blame someone.

But we had nobody to blame, just an unfortunate situation that miraculously ended up being okay.

Except for us.

We didn’t make it through surgery that day.

I choked back a sob as the limo turned down my street.

What was I supposed to say?

How could I say anything?

Zane wrapped an arm around me—I couldn’t take it anymore and politely scooted away, giving him a lame smile.

“Thanks,” I whispered. “For taking me home.”

“That’s it?” His voice was low, quiet. “Thanks for taking me home?” He looked hurt.

“Zane, don’t do this.” I pressed a palm over my mouth to keep from sobbing. Once I regained control, I tried again. “It’s—it’s fine, okay? I get it. I swear I do! And it’s not fair to you to have to pretend with me. I want it to be real. We both deserve real.”

“It is real.” His eyes pleaded. “I just need more time.”

“Your album is done.” The elephant just dropped. “You have nothing keeping you here anymore.”

“I have you.”

“You don’t know me!” I yelled. “And it’s not fair to beg you to stay! It’s not fair to either of us. I’ll resent you if you don’t feel the same way, and you’ll feel guilty if you never love me. We can’t live like that.”

He cursed and punched the seat with his hand. “I care about you. I like you.”

“I know.”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The truth hung in the air between us, the words he couldn’t say, the words I needed to hear.

“Zane.” I put on a brave face. “You’re album kicks ass, you’ve been given a second chance at life, and you’ve completely shocked your friends by going down to only one bag of marshmallows a day. Your grandma would be proud of you. I’m proud of you. But it’s time to go.”

His eyes filled with tears as he placed his hands over mine. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Live your life.” I smiled sadly. “And if you ever remember me…” Words tumbled out of my mouth right along with my beating heart. “I’ll be home. Waiting.”

“Home.”

I placed his hand over my heart and repeated. “Home.”

Too soon, I backed away.

Too soon, the car door slammed.

Too soon, my legs were taking me into my house.

Too soon.

Zane Andrews was gone.

He’d entered my life like a bolt of lightning and left it like a hurricane, leaving me to pick up pieces I never knew had shattered in the first place, until it was too late.

Zane Andrews had destroyed me—and he didn’t even remember doing it.

Chapter Forty-Three

Fallon

MY MOM AND DAD weren’t really sure what to do, and since I’d always been a relatively happy kid as long as I didn’t have a ton of homework and didn’t have to eat my mom’s burned food—we were all in foreign territory.

They ordered Chinese takeout.

We ate at the table as we always did.

Only this time, Zane wasn’t in his spot.

The spot he’d occupied for the past few weeks, teasing me that even muses need to eat, but not my mom’s food.

My parents showed him love because they knew I loved him. But I think they would have fallen in love with him if they would have had a chance to spend more than a handful of dinners with him.

He and dad would have talked about guns and actually taken that hunting trip that Zane swore up and down he was still going to do even if he came back with holes through his skin.

I wiped at a few fallen tears.

He made my family feel like his friends too. He engaged in conversation because he was genuinely interested in others lives.

And he genuinely wanted people to feel like they mattered.

Tears welled in my eyes as I pushed around the sesame chicken with my fork going over all of the what-ifs.

“Hey!” My mom clapped her hands together in excitement, and a fork clattered to the floor. “Why don’t we go get ice cream?”

“Okay.” I swallowed my tears.

She was trying. And I loved that she was trying.

By the time we made it back to the house, it was dark and I was exhausted, I had to work for the next few days. I purposefully picked up extra shifts so I wouldn’t sulk at home or, God forbid, turn on Zane Andrews’ music and sob into my pillow wishing for something that was never going to happen.

Like just another one of his fans.

“YOU LOOK REALLY BAD.” Mags elbowed me as we walked to the Seaside resort. “Like bad, bad. I mean, good call on wearing the contacts and at least trying to put on mascara, but maybe you should take a few days off?”

I snorted. “He’s so famous he’s everywhere, his story is everywhere, Mags. The last thing I need is a day off. I need an escape plan.”

She placed her hand on my arm. “But is that what you really want? An escape plan?”

“What I want doesn’t matter,” I whispered. “At least not anymore.”

“What if you just…” She threw her hands up in the air nearly taking out someone on their bike. “Tried?”