by Cora Carmack
She asked, “This is how it starts isn’t it? We’re getting old.”
“Oh yeah, you’re already past your prime. Life only goes downhill from here.”
She swatted my chest, and then pressed a kiss to the place where she hit me.
“I’m glad you fought for me,” she said.
“I’m glad you let me.”
It was around sunset when we returned to her parents’ house. I’d told her that we could get a hotel, maybe rent a car and go on to Texas, but she insisted that she could face her parents again. When we pulled into the driveway, her mother was out the door and sobbing into Max’s hair before we even closed the car doors.
“Your father tried to follow you, but he lost you in the subdivisions. We tried calling you, but you left your phone here. Don’t you ever scare us like that again.”
Max’s expression looked like she was being hugged by one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, but she was hugging her mother back.
“Your father has been torn to pieces. He’s out there looking for you now.”
“I’m okay, Mom. I just needed to deal with some things.”
Her mother pulled back and held Max’s face in her hands. She brushed her hair back tenderly from her forehead.
“I’m sorry about the things I said . . . Max.” Max did the constant swallowing thing, which I knew meant she was about to cry. “Your father and I are just scared. We lost your sister, and now everything terrifies us.” Max made a noise halfway between a sob and a laugh. “If it had been up to me, you never would have driven a car or left the house or done anything that took you out of my sight. We just want you to have the best life possible, and we tend to forget that it’s not our wants that matter. You’re an adult now, and it’s time for your father and I to stop trying to control your life.”
Max hugged her mother, probably the first hug she’d initiated in a decade, and Mrs. Miller burst into a second round of sobs.
It wouldn’t be easy. Max was too hurt and her parents too upset for a cry session to fix everything, but it was the beginning, and that’s all we can ask for in life—for a beginning to follow every end.
Max’s father came home, and after close to an hour of the three of them talking and crying, Max looked like she needed a break.
“Why don’t we go get you a dress for that gala?” I asked. “It’s tomorrow, right? I bet the mall is open for a couple more hours still.”
Mrs. Miller looked distressed at the mention of something as mundane as the mall, but she said, “They’re open late for last-minute holiday shopping, I think. But we don’t have to go to the gala, dear.”
“Of course we do,” Max said. “You’ve put a lot of work into this.”
Her mom smiled, and I could almost see the broken thread between them being repaired. A thread was a long way from a bridge, but it was something.
Her mother tried to give Max her credit card to pay for the clothing.
“No, Mom. It’s okay, I’ll find something.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I know you hate these things and are only doing it for me. So, let me pay. And get Cade something, too. Bethany was talking about putting him in one of Michael’s old suits that’s still in his closet. I’m sure he’d rather not look like he’s going to the junior prom.”
Max took the credit card but made quite clear to everyone (especially Bethany, who was eavesdropping from the dining room) that she was buying something cheap. Nothing fancy.
As it turned out though, even Max couldn’t stomach the dresses she found at the department store, and we wound up at a vintage shop a few blocks away. The owner was getting ready to close when we walked in, but she offered to stay open a little bit longer. Holiday spirit and all that. Max looked like she was in heaven.
I found a suit pretty quickly—gray with a really subtle red plaid. It came with suspenders, which Max approved of. She hooked her hands around them, and used them to pull my mouth down to hers.
I decided I was going to have to kiss her every half hour just to continue reminding myself that it was real.
Max tried on a few things—like a yellow beaded number that ended in the middle of her thighs that made me want to follow her into the dressing room. She tried on another that was dark green and cut high on her neck, covering her tree tattoo.
“That’s gorgeous,” I said. “But don’t you dare pick that one.”
“You don’t think I should cover them?”
I backed her into her dressing room and closed the door.
“I don’t think you should ever cover yourself.”
She smiled and laid a hand on my chest. “Thanks.”
“I mean it, I think you should just be naked all the time.”
She laughed. “Oh, is that what you think?”
“Yes, I’ve put a lot of thought into it.”
“I bet you have.”
She reached up and curved a hand around the back of my neck. I took that as permission enough and pressed her into the mirror.
Her nails bit into my neck, and I groaned.
“Shh! You’re going to get us into trouble.”
“The best kind of trouble.”
I marked a path from her mouth, across her jaw, and down her neck. Her head tilted back against the mirror, and she whimpered. The sound shot straight through me, and I strangled a groan in response.
“Somehow, I don’t think this is what the owner had in mind when she offered to stay open a little longer for us.”
I found a spot at the base of her neck just above her collarbone that made her say, “Oh God.” I concentrated my efforts there, and she wrapped both hands around my neck like she was going to fall. Her breath came in heavy pants, and mine wasn’t much better. I’d not meant for it to go this far, but touching her had a way of derailing my best intentions. I started to kiss lower, but the high neckline of her dress limited my travels.
I groaned, “This dress is definitely not the one.”
She gave a shaky breath, and pushed me away.
After that, I wasn’t allowed in her dressing room. She didn’t even let me see the final dress. She made me return to the car because she wanted it to be a surprise, and because she felt guilty about taking too long.
When I finally saw her in the dress the next day, a black velvet bodice hugged her chest and gave way to a full white skirt that started beneath her breasts and trailed all the way to the floor. The white material was sheer and so layered that it reminded me of a cloud. There were dozens of smaller straps that went over her shoulders and tied in the back. The branches of her tattoo blended in with those and looked like an extension of the bodice. It was the kind of dress I could see her getting married in.
She stood at my door, smiling in a way that was demure and unfamiliar and set my heart racing. I’d experienced a plethora of emotions in my life. I’d made it my career to explore and portray those emotions onstage. When I looked at her, the feeling in my chest eclipsed them all, and I knew that I loved her.
Epilogue
Max
THREE MONTHS LATER
I hadn’t told him that I loved him yet, even though he said it to me a few weeks ago. We’d just passed the mark of my longest relationship, and even though I wouldn’t admit it to him, I was still afraid that I was going to screw this up somehow. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’d almost told him a dozen times, but those three words are the kind of thing you can’t take back. Once they’re out there in the universe, everything changes.
So, I was waiting for the right moment to make that change. Cade called them “beats,” an acting term he’d taught me when we’d been working on some of my music together.
I brushed more blush across my cheeks and smoothed on my signature red lipstick. Cade knocked on the bathroom door and said, “You ready, babe? We’re up next.”
Cade and I were singing at an opening mic tonight . . . together.
There was a song, the first song I ever wrote actually, that I was f
inally ready to sing, but I didn’t think I could do it without him. He hadn’t been comfortable singing at one of the band’s gigs, and I wasn’t sure this was a song I wanted associated with the band. This song wasn’t about getting a break or making money.
This song was just for me.
He asked, “Are you nervous?”
I smiled and said, “Only enough to throw up.”
He laughed and said, “You’ll be fine then.”
The bar was about half full as we took the stage. It was a big enough crowd that I didn’t feel like our singing was pointless, but not so big that I was overwhelmed. Cade pressed a kiss to my hand, and then took up the bass guitar. In true Golden Boy fashion, he’d learned to play in about a month so that he could play with me while I was writing. I took my guitar up, too, and adjusted the microphone.
The lights were just bright enough to cast the bar in darkness. I leaned into the mic and said, “My name is Max, and this is Cade. Tonight we’re singing an original song that I wrote a long time ago. I’ve never played it in public, and I finally decided it was time.” I took a deep breath. “It’s called ‘Ten Years.’ ”
I started with the familiar opening cords, and immediately all the old emotions rushed up under my skin. I took a deep breath, and thought about why I was doing this. The song had haunted me since I wrote it, and it was time to move past it.
I took a deep breath and started to sing. Cade sang with me, low and solid. His voice was an anchor to the song and an anchor to me.
“In one second, I see ten years
I picture a future of all my fears
One blink, and I think
Losing you is like losing me.”
I met Cade’s eyes and thought that in a few ways this song spoke to our situation as well. It had been three months, and we’d insinuated ourselves into each other’s lives so completely. Even associating him with a song about loss made me have to blink back tears. I was in danger of saying all the cheesy things about better halves and soul mates that I’d always laughed at in movies.
“Lights flash, the car spins
Every time I close my eyes I see
Broken skin, my life stretched thin
Every time I close my eyes I see
Broken skin and broken kin
The end of you feels like the end of me.
“There’s a scream in my soul
’Cause I’ll never feel whole
I’m stuck in the moment. My mind’s on repeat
Trapped in an instant I can’t delete
“Time unravels, my life unspools
The future has made us all into fools
You’re lying there, and I’m stuck in my chair
All I’m allowed to do is stare.”
I got so choked up on the verse that my voice broke, and I had to take a break and repeat some of the guitar part before I was able to come in for the next verse. Cade was so in tune and perceptive that he followed me easily.
“We’re all slaves to the grave
Helpless to save
So we close our eyes to shut it out
Instead it becomes what we’re all about.”
I closed my eyes, and I did see it all as I sang. I remembered the images that had flashed through my mind of a life without Alex. I’d thought of all the moments in my life that she would miss, and how nothing would ever be the same without her. I was at nine years now, and though nothing was the same without her, life also wasn’t as bad as I had pictured it would be.
I glanced at Cade. Life wasn’t bad at all.
“In one second, I see ten years
Can’t hold it back any more than the tears
I see black dresses, life’s stresses
Imagine the grief, loss of belief
My life unfolds as yours is untold
“Every time I close my eyes.”
Cade repeated the last line alone, and when I heard his low and steady voice, I finally felt like my ghosts had been put to rest.
People started clapping, and I looked at him over the microphone and mouthed, “I love you.”
I blinked, and just like that I saw ten more years unfold.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to William Morrow and Amanda Bergeron for believing in my writing, and working so incredibly hard to get it out into the world so quickly. And Amanda, thank you for helping make Cade as awesome as he is. Thank you to Jessie Edwards for being made of awesome and believing in sunken ships with me. Thanks also to Molly Birckhead, Pam Jaffee, and all the rest of the HarperCollins team for doing such a fabulous job.
Thank you to the epic and amazing Suzie Townsend. I am eternally grateful to have a literary gladiator like you on my side. Thanks also to Kathleen, Pouya, Joanna, Danielle, and the rest of the New Leaf Team. You guys keep my world spinning.
Thanks to Kathleen Smith for the information. Thank you to Jennifer, Colleen, Wendy, Sophie, Kathleen, and Molly for reading this book in advance and loving it. I was kind of petrified, and you guys gave me so much confidence. Thank you to Ana for all the things you do and all the things you are, and for making me feel like I’m more awesome than I am. Thanks to Lindsay for being the person with whom I can share absolutely anything, and for always sharing back. Thank you also to Joey, Patrick, Bethany, Shelly, Zach, Kristin, Sam, Marylee, Kendall, Swinter, Louise, Tyler, Brittany, Michelle, Heather, Amber, DeAndre, Matt, Mark, Mere, Michael, Leesa, and so many other friends. I’m so thankful to have you all in my life. Thank you to my former students (even though you aren’t old enough to read this; close this book right now). Thank you to Marisa, Stacey, Sarah, Michelle, Jamie, El, Molly, Aimee, Kim, Kathryn, Nichole, Julie, and Marice. I love you guys.
I wish I could list each and every blogger, Twitter follower, Facebook friend, and reader who has supported me and my writing. But there are so many of you (for which I’m extremely grateful) that it could fill a whole other book. Just know that I appreciate and love you all so much. All of this is for you!
Thank you to my family. I have the best family in the world, and not just because we rock freckles better than anyone else. This all still feels like a dream. And well, it is a dream . . . one I couldn’t have achieved without your love and support.
And to that guy I threw an Easter egg at in Queens at two in the morning because I thought you were someone else . . . I’m sorry for being the most awkward person to ever walk on two legs.
Can’t get enough Cora Carmack?
Turn the page for a sneak peek at
FINDING IT
Most girls would kill to spend months traveling around Europe after college graduation with no responsibility, no parents, and no-limit credit cards. Kelsey Summers is no exception. She’s having the time of her life . . . or that’s what she keeps telling herself.
It’s lonely business trying to find out who you are, especially when you’re afraid you won’t like the you that’s found. No amount of drinking or dancing can chase away Kelsey’s loneliness, but maybe Jackson Hunt can. After a few chance meetings, he convinces her to take a journey of adventure instead of alcohol. With each new city and experience, Kelsey’s mind becomes a little clearer, and her heart a little less hers. Hunt helps her unravel her own dreams and desires, but the more she knows about herself, the more she realizes how little she knows about him.
Coming Soon from William Morrow
1
I couldn’t keep their names straight, and I wasn’t even drunk yet.
I kept calling Tamás István. Or was that András? Oh, well. What did it matter? They were all hot with dark hair and eyes, and they knew only four words in English as far as I could tell.
American. Beautiful. Drink. And dance.
As far as I was concerned, those were the only words they needed to know. At least I remembered Katalin’s name. I’d met her a few days ago, and we’d hung out almost every night since. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. She showed me around Budapest, and I got generous with Daddy’s credit card on o
ccasion. Not like he would notice or care. And if he did, he’d always said that if money didn’t buy happiness, then people were spending it wrong.
“Kelsey,” Katalin said, her accent thick and exotic. “Welcome to the ruin bars.”
I paused in ruffling István’s hair (or the one I called István, anyway). We stood on an empty street filled with dilapidated buildings. I knew the whole don’t-judge-a-book-by-its-cover thing, but this place was straight out of a zombie apocalypse. I wondered how to say “brains” in Hungarian.
The old Jewish quarter—that’s where Katalin said we were going.
Oy vey.
It sure as hell didn’t look to me like there were any bars around here. I looked at the abandoned neighborhood, and thought, At least I got laid last night. If I was going to get chopped into tiny pieces, at least I went out with a bang. Literally.
I laughed, and almost recounted my thoughts to my companions, but I was pretty sure it would get lost in translation. Especially because I was starting to question even Katalin’s grip on the English language, if this was what “bar” meant to her. I pointed a crumbling stone building and said, “Drink?” Then mimed the action, just to be safe.
One of the guys said, “Igen. Drink.” The word sounded like ee-gan, and I’d picked up just enough to know it mean, “yes.”
I was practically fluent already.
I cautiously followed Katalin toward one of the derelict buildings. She stepped into a darkened doorway that gave me the heebiest of jeebies. The tallest of my Hungarian hotties slipped an arm around my shoulder. I took a guess and said, “Tamás?” His teeth were pearly white when he smiled. I would take that as a yes. Tamás equaled tall. And drop-dead sexy.
One of his hands came up and brushed back the blond hair from my face. I tilted my head back to look at him, and excitement sparked in my belly. What did language matter when dark eyes locked on mine, strong hands pressed into my skin, and heat filled the space between us?
Not a whole hell of a lot.
We followed the rest of the group into the building, and I felt the low thrum of techno music vibrating the floor beneath my feet.
Interesting.
We travelled deeper into the building and came out into a large room. Walls had been knocked down, and no one had bothered to move the pieces of concrete. Christmas lights and lanterns lighted the building. Mismatched furniture was scattered around the space. There was even an old car that had been repurposed into a dining booth. It was easily the weirdest, most confusing place I’d ever