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My smile is muted. I don’t tell him why it won’t be happening anytime soon. That it mattered more to me that he winds up with what he loves instead.

“You’ll probably never be back here, after this weekend,” I whisper, my voice breaking.

“Jules.” His hand cups my face, forcing me to meet his eye. “I’ll be back.”

I shake my head. “By this time next year, you’d better be off on the pro tour, Luke Taylor. Don’t come back to Rhodes.”

I spin away and head toward the fire, choking back a sob.

Some people show love the way Donna does—by fretting and smoothing a hand over your hair, and by getting you an internship you don’t even want. But me? I show mine in other, quieter ways the recipient will never be aware of. It’s for the best. He’d never have accepted this love of mine if he knew what it cost me.

* * *

It’s late by the time we get back to the house. The boys pack their stuff and eventually, unable to stand the tension, I go to my room and cry.

I wish I wasn’t red-eyed when we get up to see them off. Luke looks away, his jaw flexing, when Danny kisses me goodbye. He shakes the pastor’s hand and hugs Donna. I assume he will mostly ignore me, the way he did last summer. Instead, he hesitates and then pulls me against him. It lasts a second at most, but it’s enough.

I cry for the rest of the day. And when I wake up after twenty-four hours of Luke gone, I know I can’t live like this, that I can’t keep pretending. I know, even when I told myself I belonged to Danny, it was Luke who kept my heart beating and my blood hot in my veins, and without him, nothing matters. I’ve got to find a way to get out of here.

23

NOW

When Cash’s name flashes on the caller ID, I startle. Cash hates the phone. He won’t even take calls from his mother, and I don’t think I’ve ever once seen him dial a number. A few months ago, I’d have been thrilled by this turn of events. Weirdly, I just find this small pit of dread in my stomach instead.

I set my coffee mug on the kitchen counter and glance behind me before I pick up. “Cash?” I ask, my voice lilting at the end.

He gives a low chuckle. “That surprised to hear from me?”

“I’ve never seen you call anybody before.” I turn to face the kitchen’s entrance so I’ll know if I’m being overheard. “I assumed someone was using your phone as a joke, or that you were calling to tell me Frank is dead.”

“Frank is still alive and kicking. Asks about you every day.”

I don’t doubt he’s telling the truth. I got to know Frank pretty well when I was opening for Cash. There were times when it seemed like he cared about me far more than Cash did.

My palm curves around the coffee mug, relishing its heat—a tiny hesitation. There’s a reason he’s calling, and it’s probably a bad one. “So, to what do I owe this honor?”

“You didn’t reply to my text,” he says. “You always reply.”

I suppose he’s right—our relationship has been on and off for two years, but I was always desperate to keep him on the hook.

Why was I so pathetic?

“Sorry,” I tell him. “It’s just been really busy here.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s, like, your aunt’s house, right? Getting it ready for something?”

You would think he’d fucking know by now that she isn’t my aunt, but I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not as if I ever really thought he was listening in the first place.

“She basically raised me. And she added on this extension so she can house more foster kids, but it still needs a ton of work before the first two arrive, so I’m helping her.”

“Cool cool cool,” he says. He’s already stopped listening. “So, I’m back in LA. We’re all hanging out in the penthouse of the Beverly Hills Hotel. Come down and see us.”

I wonder if he’s already forgotten what I said about getting the foster home ready, or if he simply never listened in the first place. Maybe he just thinks he’s so special that I would drop it all on his behalf. I probably would have, until a few weeks ago. But now, when I consider leaving, everything goes black, and the future looks like a space so dark I can’t make out a single shape inside it. I guess, though, that it was always black. Cash was something I clung to, trying to find my way through the dark.

I dump my coffee down the drain and put the cup in the dishwasher. “Like I said, things are pretty busy. I don't see myself getting out of here until after the opening.”

“I’ll just have to come up there to see you, then.”