three and you need your beauty sleep.”
“Me? Quinlan, I’m the most gorgeous thing out here.”
I laughed. “That’s a bit of a stretch.”
Deacon slammed my car door shut and then jogged over so that he could walk beside me. “You’re right,” he said. “ You’re the most gorgeous thing out here. But I’m a close second.”
My smile faded slightly, and I looked sideways at him, finding him staring straight ahead as if he hadn’t spoken at all. Our pace slowed—stretching out every moment together. Every second was precious. Myra passed us, glancing back at me and smiling before disappearing inside behind Aaron.
Just before we got to the door, Deacon reached to take my elbow. Without hesitation I turned and stepped in to him, burying my face near his neck. My entire soul ached for his. We stayed like that for a long moment, breathing against each other. And then Deacon leaned down, his lips near my ear as his fingers slid under my hair.
“I’m still crazy about you,” he murmured so quietly it was like a secret. And I closed my eyes and let the thought consume me.
* * *
The sound of Virginia cursing draws me out of the memory, though the feel of Deacon’s arms around me takes longer to fade. But it does, and I’m pulled back into this world that Virginia has painted for me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her, my voice slightly hoarse. She clicks on the windshield wipers as rain taps the windshield and then out-and-out pours down.
“The rain,” she says, glancing over at me. “I’m so sick of it. I swear there won’t be a summer this year. It’s like every season the rain stays longer and longer.”
Although I’m not sure that’s technically true, I understand what she means. I’ve always assumed it was perception: When we’re in the middle of it, the rainy season can feel like years.
The music is still on, moody and dark, and all I can think about is how much I miss Deacon. Miss my life. I even have a quick thought that maybe I could go back—we all could. What if we just pretended it never happened, lying to ourselves so things could be easier?
I blink quickly, trying to right myself. I’m losing perspective. That wasn’t my life—not my real life. This is my chance to find out who I am, who I was meant to be. I can’t let anything get in the way of that.
I’ll go to this party with Virginia, and then later I’ll figure out her role in Catalina’s death. I’ll use that—use her. Even if it makes me feel like shit. Arthur Pritchard has my identity, and I’m going to get it back. I’m going to find my family. I’ll find where I belong.
“Here we are,” Virginia says, pulling in front of a four-story apartment building with a rickety-looking iron fire escape on the front. The place is a bit worn down and appealing because of it. I realize how much I want to be around other people in this moment. How much I crave interaction to distract me from myself.
Once she’s parked, Virginia switches off the engine and reaches into the backseat to grab a cute jacket. She puts it on and then checks her hair in the rearview mirror. I don’t haveanything else with me, so I sit as she applies pink lip gloss and some powder to her cheeks.
When she’s done, she flashes me a smile. If I didn’t know how she felt in the diner, I wouldn’t imagine anything is wrong with her. She seems happy and well-adjusted. But, of course that’s not the case. Still, I match her smile, and we both climb out of the car.
The rain has lessened to barely a drizzle, but the cold clings to it, and I shove my hands in the pockets of my sweater. Virginia walks around the car and pops open the trunk. She pulls out a liter bottle of vodka and then comes to stand next to me, facing the building. She points to a window on the fifth floor, the lights blazing behind the sheer curtain, silhouettes moving.
“Roderick lives here,” she says. “He’s a sweet guy and his parties are fun. Nothing stupid
“Me? Quinlan, I’m the most gorgeous thing out here.”
I laughed. “That’s a bit of a stretch.”
Deacon slammed my car door shut and then jogged over so that he could walk beside me. “You’re right,” he said. “ You’re the most gorgeous thing out here. But I’m a close second.”
My smile faded slightly, and I looked sideways at him, finding him staring straight ahead as if he hadn’t spoken at all. Our pace slowed—stretching out every moment together. Every second was precious. Myra passed us, glancing back at me and smiling before disappearing inside behind Aaron.
Just before we got to the door, Deacon reached to take my elbow. Without hesitation I turned and stepped in to him, burying my face near his neck. My entire soul ached for his. We stayed like that for a long moment, breathing against each other. And then Deacon leaned down, his lips near my ear as his fingers slid under my hair.
“I’m still crazy about you,” he murmured so quietly it was like a secret. And I closed my eyes and let the thought consume me.
* * *
The sound of Virginia cursing draws me out of the memory, though the feel of Deacon’s arms around me takes longer to fade. But it does, and I’m pulled back into this world that Virginia has painted for me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her, my voice slightly hoarse. She clicks on the windshield wipers as rain taps the windshield and then out-and-out pours down.
“The rain,” she says, glancing over at me. “I’m so sick of it. I swear there won’t be a summer this year. It’s like every season the rain stays longer and longer.”
Although I’m not sure that’s technically true, I understand what she means. I’ve always assumed it was perception: When we’re in the middle of it, the rainy season can feel like years.
The music is still on, moody and dark, and all I can think about is how much I miss Deacon. Miss my life. I even have a quick thought that maybe I could go back—we all could. What if we just pretended it never happened, lying to ourselves so things could be easier?
I blink quickly, trying to right myself. I’m losing perspective. That wasn’t my life—not my real life. This is my chance to find out who I am, who I was meant to be. I can’t let anything get in the way of that.
I’ll go to this party with Virginia, and then later I’ll figure out her role in Catalina’s death. I’ll use that—use her. Even if it makes me feel like shit. Arthur Pritchard has my identity, and I’m going to get it back. I’m going to find my family. I’ll find where I belong.
“Here we are,” Virginia says, pulling in front of a four-story apartment building with a rickety-looking iron fire escape on the front. The place is a bit worn down and appealing because of it. I realize how much I want to be around other people in this moment. How much I crave interaction to distract me from myself.
Once she’s parked, Virginia switches off the engine and reaches into the backseat to grab a cute jacket. She puts it on and then checks her hair in the rearview mirror. I don’t haveanything else with me, so I sit as she applies pink lip gloss and some powder to her cheeks.
When she’s done, she flashes me a smile. If I didn’t know how she felt in the diner, I wouldn’t imagine anything is wrong with her. She seems happy and well-adjusted. But, of course that’s not the case. Still, I match her smile, and we both climb out of the car.
The rain has lessened to barely a drizzle, but the cold clings to it, and I shove my hands in the pockets of my sweater. Virginia walks around the car and pops open the trunk. She pulls out a liter bottle of vodka and then comes to stand next to me, facing the building. She points to a window on the fifth floor, the lights blazing behind the sheer curtain, silhouettes moving.
“Roderick lives here,” she says. “He’s a sweet guy and his parties are fun. Nothing stupid
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