by J. L. Rizzo
“I wanted to see you, even though you didn’t know me. I knew I could help. I knew how it felt to lose a parent. I wanted to go to your house, do anything I could to be with you, to comfort you, to help you. But you went dark almost everywhere — on social media, in the venue halls, at school. And I waited. God, I waited for so fucking long.”
Shifting his feet, he says, “So I went to the cemetery on the anniversary of your father’s death, hoping you would be there. I guessed right. But I didn’t want to seem like a creepy stalker. So when you asked why I was in the cemetery, I gave the most sympathetic answer. I didn’t correct you when you thought my mother was buried there because my focus was to make you realize that I understood what you were going through. The loss. The lack of guidance. The sudden need to protect yourself, your heart.” He places one of my hands on his chest and presses it to gently to his heart. “I knew that it would be difficult for you. There’s no opening yourself for anyone, not without explaining your feelings in explicit, clinical detail. So I let you know that you didn’t have to explain anything to me. That I understood all too well.”
His eyes well up with tear at his confession. “Then you really captivated me. You were sad but spunky. Broken-hearted but not broken. Your appearance told the world that you were still in deep mourning. But your spirit said that while you had a desire to move on, your conscience anchored you down. I wanted to alleviate some of that anguish for you. Make you realize that you actually can move on without guilt, without regret. That you’re allowed to make some selfish choices without feeling like you’re disappointing anyone.” Crew takes a deep breath and holds it for a few moments, pressing my hand harder. “I know where dark thoughts could lead you, Summer,” his bottom lip quivers. “Because I’ve had them, too.”
Fuck. How does he know?
“You feel so empty and hollow and void of anything good,” he shakes his head. “You think that there’s no point in existing. You no longer have a loving parent. And the only one left is…different. Whatever you wanted to do before no longer matters.” He gives half a smile through his pained expression. “Even for piano players.”
I chuckle once at his joke.
“I just wanted to appeal to you as a human being. As a person. As a —” he pauses, searching for his next word.
“Nobody,” I finish his thought. And he gives a bigger smile.
“As a nobody.” He lightly kisses the palm of my hand, then brings it down to our sides. “I’m so sorry, Summer. I didn’t mean to hurt you, ever. That’s the last thing I want.”
“I believe you, Crew,” I say quickly. His explanation soothes the storm inside and calms my seething emotions.
His eyes brighten up, and his whole face comes to life. “You do?”
I nod my head. “Yes, I believe you. I don’t know why. I barely know you.” We both laugh. “But I believe you, which, you’re right, isn’t my usual demeanor. I’m not a very trusting person. I don’t always trust people’s motivations for talking to me. But…I trust you.”
Crew crushes me to him, pouring so much relief and care into our hug, his arms wrapped tightly around me. “Thank you,” he whispers behind me.
“You’re welcome,” is all I can say while we stand for a few extra seconds, drinking each other in, feeling each other soften in our embrace. I know Crew isn’t malicious. I know he has good intentions. I just want to know more.
“Crew —”
He pulls away slowly and pauses before saying, “Summer…. Would you like to get some waffles?” he asks.
“Waffles sound great, Crew.” He smiles so wide.
“But Crew?” He raises his eyebrows to me. “Can we get them to go?”
Crew squints his eyes at me. “Aunt Rosie’s diner doesn’t feel like the right place to sit and talk. About some stuff.” I shrug my shoulder.
Lingering in silence, my heart starts to race. Maybe I’m pushing it.
“Waffles to go sounds great, Summer.” His playful smile intrigues me. “I know a good place to go talk.”
“Where?” I ask, hoping he says what I’m thinking.
“My house,” he beams.
I beam back. “You’ve read my mind.”
Crew’s brows furrow momentarily, and he looks as though he’s struggling with something on his mind.
“What’s wrong, Crew?” I ask.
“Your flight, Summer,” he responds quickly. Tangling his fingers with mine, weaving them together, he continues, “You have to leave in the morning, don’t you?”
His sadness stretches from his voice straight to my heart. Because I do have to leave soon. And for the first time in a long time, I want to be selfish. I want to stay. I want to be with Crew and not think about a tomorrow without him. I lock eyes with his bright green eyes, holding his attention. “Then let’s make the most of tonight…of now. Right now, it’s our time.”
Rewarding me with a kiss, he grabs my hand and leads me to his car.
16.
Crew
Right now, it’s our time. I should tattoo those words somewhere on my body. I don’t ever want to forget hearing them.
I didn’t think Summer would want to come back to my place, but her face and body language told me differently.
She suggested we take the waffles to go. She smiled when I offered my house. She jumped into the car before I could open the door for her.
She was excited.
About what…I’m not entirely sure. There are things we need to discuss. But for the life of me, I have no idea where to start.
I wanted to be in a space where she could feel comfortable to speak freely, and we can talk easily. My home is private and secure, with state-of-the-art security and hi-tech features. While we set our bags down on the kitchen island, Summer takes a glance around. She’s impressed. And I mentally high-five myself, knowing that I’ve started to prove that I’m worthy of her.
Yet I have no idea how to approach the things we need to talk about.
“What happened with Sebastian?” she asks while sifting through her bag.
She’s not wasting any time.
While I was take out plates for the waffles, she opens the containers. We’re working in harmony — to get our bellies full of waffles or get to the crux of why we’re here, I’m not sure which. In any case, getting ourselves situated feels like a dance we’ve been practicing.
Exhaling a huff, I wonder what to tell her exactly. Everything, Evans. Easily said. Not easily done. But I know she is anxious to clear the air.
“Sebastian has had quite a year,” I start, knowing the last time she saw me with him was at the bar before he passed out in my car. I gather the utensils and glasses from the cupboard. “He pushed his limits too far, my father finally caught up to him, threw him in jail for four days, and straightened him out somewhat.” I shrug my shoulders then take a long whiff of the waffles. “They smell so good.” I smile at her. Her return smile melts my heart.
We move ourselves over to the table. “What did he do?” she asks.
I pour blueberry syrup all over my stack of waffles. “He tried to rob a liquor store.”
Summer halts mid-slice. “How did he ‘try’ to rob it?”
I shake my head. “He stuck his finger in his jacket like a makeshift gun and held up the clerk, saying he wanted the expensive tequila for free to impress a girl.” He’s ridiculous. “He was laughing the whole time, like an idiot.”
“That’s absurd,” she said, taking a bite and rolling her eyes in ecstasy.
“How are the waffles?” I ask, chuckling.
“Mouthwateringly delicious,” she smiles. Those words make my adrenaline pump.
Her smile is radiant, but I have to continue or we’ll never get through this. “Yes, Sebby is absurd. But he had it coming.” I take a bite. “In all honesty, I think he wanted to get caught.”
“Why would he want to get caught?”
“To get my father’s attention,” I say flatly. “Sebastian always acted out t
o gain attention. But for a long time, I was the only one giving it to him. When I realized that he was actually seeking my father’s attention, I stopped being on top of him.” I take another bite. So good. “There’s a fine line between making sure he doesn’t hurt himself and looking after him constantly. I told my mother I’d take care of him, but I was actually enabling him.”
“Did he realize what you were doing?”
“Yes, I told him I wouldn’t help him out of those situations anymore. And I told him why — that I wouldn’t sacrifice my job or my life for him and his selfish mistakes. He pushed me, as I expected him to. I didn’t respond, so he got caught.” I speak so matter-of-factly, but the situation at the time was a bit gut-wrenching. “I felt guilty about it, but he’s better off now.”
“Even though he’s fucking your girlfriend,” she says flatly.
Startled by her candor, I freeze with my fork in the air. Fuck. She heard that. I can’t look at her eyes; they are probably full of disdain. “She’s not my girlfriend,” I reply. Biting my waffles. “But yes. They’re both better off.”
“Sorry, Crew.”
“What are you sorry for, Summer?” That you were eavesdropping? That you think I had a girlfriend? That you brought her up? That my brother stabbed me in the back? Her eyes reveal none of her emotions.
She must sense the war inside my head because her eyes soften and she sets down her fork.
“For everything that you’re thinking,” she finally replies.
“I’m not sorry, Summer,” I say. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I’m glad you brought it up. We need to get a few things out in the open. Now is as good a time as any.” I lick my lips of the syrup. “If you have something you want to know, just ask me,” I say, leaning back in my chair.
Half smiling, she says, “Just ask you? Like I should expect you to be honest?”
Right. “Ok. I deserve that. But yes. I’ll be honest.” Hopefully she won’t ask the important questions until I’m ready to tell her. “I only lied about my mother so I didn’t scare you. It was a misleading lie — I simply didn’t correct you,” I remind her.
Nodding her head, Summer is serious. The few moments she takes to shape her thoughts are torturous. But seeing as I also have questions, I take the moments to prioritize.
“What do you do for a living?” she finally asks.
I outwardly laugh. What an odd starting point. “I’m a freelance photographer and journalist.”
She glances around my house. “You pay for this whole house by selling pictures?”
I chuckle inside. “Well, I have a lot of pictures to sell and a lot of things to say about them. Some bigger publications have purchased my materials as well as some smaller ones. I’ve taken the money and made some shrewd investments that continue to return.” I smile at her. “Plus I’ve published a few books that have become popular amongst artists like me.” I smile wider. “I also teach a few photography courses. So there are several streams of income that pay me well,” I wink at her.
Summer blushes. Impressed her again.
“Why are you an only child?” I ask her.
She’s thrown by the question, tilting her head. “What an odd question to ask,” she laughs.
“No stranger than, ‘What do you do for a living.’” I laugh under my breath, which makes her giggle.
“We’re sitting in your house where the fridge just announced that you have a meeting tomorrow then informed you that your strawberries are ripe, and the home monitoring system detailed the pool conditions. I think my question is warranted.” She chuckles. It’s the most beautiful sound.
“Agreed. But mine still stands,” I wink at her again.
She lets out an audible exhale. “My mother had to have a hysterectomy after she had me. She almost died during my delivery. And my father practically raised me on his own because my mother is so dependent on him.” She looks down to the table. “Was so dependent on him,” she corrects. “I guess they didn’t want to have more kids by any other means, so they were one and done.”
“Now she’s dependent on you?” I ask.
Summer nods her head, clearly not wanting to explain that answer further.
“What do you plan to do after school is done in a couple of months?”
She’s quiet for a moment, weighing the gravity of her thoughts. Then she shrugs. And she looks so fucking adorable.
“What happened with you and your girlfriend?” she quietly asks.
Oh, I see. She doesn’t want to talk about the future until she’s sure about the present. “She’s not my girlfriend, Summer. You seem to keep forgetting that. We were just friends.”
“Friends who hooked up,” she states.
Her jealousy is palpable; it makes my insides swell. “No, Summer. We never slept together.” I look deep into her eyes — so innocent and courageous. “I forgot how jealous you can get.”
“I’m not jealous!”
I stare her down silently until she comes to her truth. “Ok, maybe I’m a little jealous,” she confesses. “And maybe I’m a little embarrassed that I hoped you wouldn’t be with anyone else after what happened with us last year. Which is completely irrational, I know. But…it’s still the truth.”
That’s probably the deepest confession I’ve ever heard from her. I love it. It means that I matter to her. “I haven’t been with anyone, Summer.” Her eyes light up at my confession. “But I know the feeling.”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“I saw the pictures of you and Xaden. I’m not stupid. I know you were…with him. And I fucking hated it,” I reply, shifting in my seat. My confession stops her breath. Her stare punctures my chest, making it feel tight and tingling. “It was like a knife piercing my stomach every time I saw a picture of you two together,” I practically hiss. Even the idea leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
Leaning back in her chair, she tilts her head and says, “That’s very honest.”
“I thought that’s why we were here. To talk. Honestly.”
As she slowly nods her head, I continue. “I couldn’t stand the idea that someone else got to feel you, touch your skin, kiss your lips. It absolutely gutted me.” I shake my head of those nasty feelings. “The only thing that saved me was that the pictures looked somewhat contrived. They didn’t seem genuine. You didn’t look like a couple. You didn’t look at him —” I need a deep breath. “ — like you look at me.” I stare at her stone cold sober. “I wanted so badly to make you forget him.”
Saying those words aloud surprises even me. But Summer seems absolutely stunned. I see the struggle in her eyes. I notice the tension in her chest. I can feel the anguish pouring off her skin.
After a few breaths, she sits more upright, resigned to her thought. “Is that why you were so upset tonight, Crew?”
What?
“Before you saw me,” she continues, “I heard you on the phone yelling at whoever was on the other line. You were tense…and mad…and swearing a lot. Is it because of me?”
Shit.
“I’m just trying to be honest,” she continues.
“Honest about what, Summer?”
She blinks a few times. “Honest about who you are, what we are…if we’re anything.”
I lean forward to make myself clear. “Yes. I was upset partly because of you, Summer.” I swallow hard. “I was nervous to see you because you had a boyfriend. While I never want to ruin anything for you, I still wanted to kill him for touching you.”
She swallows hard, digesting my emotional eruptions.
“What was the other part?” Her meek voice contradicts the obvious flood of emotions coming over her face.
Honesty. “I was mad a Sebby for being such an ungrateful prick. I was mad at myself for being so stupid to fall for his shit. And I was mad at you for being with that fucking guitar-playing dipshit.”
She chuckles once at me. “You’re so swear-y tonight.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
>
“Is that even a word?” I ask.
“It is now,” she smiles. “Why are you so angry? I’ve never heard you speak like this before.”
I stare hard at her. “Composure can be faked, Summer —”
“So you’ve been faking this whole time?” she interrupts. “With the waffles? The music store? Your family?”
“No. God, no.” My anxiety rushes to squeeze my throat. “But just because I’m sitting here with you seemingly calm doesn’t mean I am. It’s quite the opposite, in fact. And I want to know….”
“You want to know what?”
“I want to know what he is to you.”
“Who? Xaden?”
“Yes. Xaden.” I hate his fucking name.
“We’re…nothing,” she furrows her brow. “He’s in the band. We hung out after the shows sometimes, as a group. Pictures were taken. People fabricated ideas. He didn’t correct anyone.”
“Why didn’t you correct anyone?” I feel my patience thinning.
“Because it’s a waste of time,” she shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head. “Crew, when you put something out into the media, you can’t take it back. People suddenly won’t forget. It’s there forever. If I start to defend a false statement, then I give it more power and create unnecessary drama that will stir more whispers.” Her eyes grow wide. “Trust me. I’ve been here before when I was traveling and playing. The news speculates on everything. It rarely has to do with the actual person. It’s more like the media needs to sell the narrative, and the person happens to fit the story. It is pointless to correct the lies. They’ll just concoct another story. The best thing I could do about Xaden was leave it alone.”
Damn. She’s right. She did the right thing.
“He didn’t mean anything to me, Crew.” Reaching across the table, she sets her delicate hand on mine. My cold blood warms up a little with her touch. “How could he when I couldn’t stop thinking about you?”
The rush of heat makes my pulse race. Standing up quickly, I knock my chair over, walking over to her and scooping her in my arms, bringing her to the couch. Sitting down, I keep her in my lap and wrap my arms around her so tightly, I think I squeezed her breath away.