Chapter Ten

SYDNEY

My mother used to tell me not to get comfortable being happy.

She said this a lot after Barrett died. To herself and to me, although I think it was mostly to herself when she would sit on the couch and stare off at nothing.

Don’t get comfortable being happy, she would say. It’ll only hurt worse when it’s gone.

I didn’t understand the truth to her statement then. My twelve-year-old mind couldn’t understand it. I just sat there and squeezed her hand or pressed closer, wishing and praying she would get better soon and want to eat popsicles on the porch with me again.

Lime was my favorite. Hers was cherry.

I would’ve eaten cherry every day if it meant getting that back.

Now I realized what my mother meant twelve years ago. And just how true her statement was.

It was Thursday, and it was my day off this week.

I’d worked six straight days and would’ve worked seven, no problem, considering how much I loved my new job and the tips I was getting, the kick-ass, laid-back atmosphere, the cute little uniforms that were super comfy, the people I worked with, okay…everything.

I loved everything.

It felt more like hanging out with my closest friends than work on most days.

I was even starting to consider Stitch a friend now that we’d spent a lot of shifts together and I’d gotten used to his big bad bearded ways, which included him being silent 99 percent of the time while I gabbed about my life and about Brian, figuring he wouldn’t mention it to anyone since he never spoke unless really provoked, those times being few and far between and normally coinciding with something Shay did or said.

She was still all over that window and was always sharing with him.

He was still letting her share and listening like he did with me and the other girls, but appeared to be listening harder and taking more in when she spoke.

All hard looks and edge, drove a motorcycle, and smoked like a chimney on his breaks, fingers, hands, forearms, and I’m betting the rest of him covered in tattoos, plus the whole not speaking thing, which made him a tiny bit scary.

But twice now I’d seen him smile.

Not much of one. Barely a lip spasm behind his blanket of a beard, but it was there and both times appearing after Shay said or did something cute with her back to him.

Stitch had a soft spot, and Shay filled it. I was certain of that.

It felt good telling him about Brian. Telling anyone about Brian, when I wanted to tell everyone and everything, living or not, because if I was being honest, I had already confessed my secret to numerous objects around Tori’s house, and to just about every blade of grass surrounding Whitecaps when I’d step outside on my break.

Even confiding in a stupid blade of grass felt good.

But the one person I really wanted to tell, my best friend, my partner in crime, and the one person I didn’t keep anything from couldn’t know. I couldn’t tell Tori.

For a number of reasons.

I was scared she wouldn’t approve.

I was scared she’d tell me I shouldn’t be feeling the things I was feeling for Brian when I was still technically married to Marcus, and boy oh boy, was I feeling things.

Lots of things.

Tickling butterfly wings and a runaway heartbeat. Goose-bump-giving thoughts and toe-curling desires.

I felt them all the time.

I was scared Tori would tell me it was too much, too soon, too fast.

I was scared I’d start believing her.

I was scared she’d be right.

So I confided in coffee mugs and my bedroom ceiling, her favorite Christmas quilt wrapped around me and my shower-fogged reflection.

And now Stitch.

I had no idea what his thoughts were on the matter, but his silence didn’t bother me. It just felt good telling someone.

Anyone.

Stitch would do for now. Maybe in a month I’d feel better about telling Tori.

And maybe she wouldn’t hate me for keeping it from her.

Maybe.

God, I really hoped she wouldn’t hate me.

Guilt, I was feeling it. And I was feeling it hard, which led me to spending my day off cleaning Tori’s house from top to bottom, set on making it sparkle. I even cleaned the oven, got a little dizzy from the fumes and had to sit for a minute and regroup myself, then heard the buzzer go off on the dryer and went about folding a mix of our clothes.

I was being stupid. I knew deep down cleaning wouldn’t help me feel better about keeping my secret from Tori, but it did distract me and I appreciated the distraction.

It also wore me out.

By four thirty I was slumped on one arm of the couch in my cleaning sweats and baggy tee, my hair a hot tangled mess and my eyes closed as I curled into the soft leather cushion.

The front door swung open, hinges creaking.

I peeked my eye open and watched Tori do a little spin and hip shimmy in the entryway after closing the door, find my one eye peeking and lock on to it, smile big, then continue popping her hips as she threw her hands into the air and swayed them like trees blowing in the wind.

Someone was in a good mood.

“Good lunch with your dad?” I asked, popping my other eye open and lifting my chin to see her better over the armrest.

“Good? No. Great lunch. Check it out.”

She stopped dancing and pulled something white and rectangular out of her back jeans pocket, held it out in front of her as she closed the gap between us, doing this while sliding her fingers smoothly, separating the objects and displaying two of whatever it was as she came to a stop in front of the couch.

I stared at the objects, not getting what I was supposed to be checking out, then lifted my gaze to hers.

“What’s that?”

She smiled, slow and devilish with wine-colored lips.

“Get up, get in the shower, and put yourself in something fierce, hon, because you and me are spending the night with”—she turned the objects around and thrust them in my face, yelling—“GAGA!”

I sucked in a breath and sat up, blinking between her and the tickets in her hand.

“What?” I asked, my breath hitching excitedly. “You got us tickets to see Lady Gaga? Where?”

“The Pier,” Tori stated casually, handing me a ticket and fanning herself with the other. “They sold out in eight minutes, but Daddy pulled some strings for his little princess. Surprised me with them at lunch today. He’s the best.”

I couldn’t begin to think how much these probably cost Mr. Rivera. I knew he had connections, but Gaga connections?

Holy shit!

“This is awesome!” I leaped off the couch, tugging the waistband of my sweats when they started sliding down, and stood in front of Tori after she took a step back. “How much do I owe him for this? Oh, my God. I can’t believe we get to see her! We’re her little monsters!”

“Yeah, we are!”

“No, but seriously.” I touched her arm. “How much were these? I don’t want your dad paying for me.”

Tori waved her ticket in the air dismissively.

“It’s on him. He said he’s proud of you for staying so strong right now and finding your happiness. I filled him in the other day on the phone.”

I pulled my lips between my teeth, fighting tears.

God…

Sweetest man ever.

And the closest thing I’d ever had to a father.

Tori shook her head at my reaction, then leaned in so we were touching foreheads.

“You’re his other princess, hon. You know that.”

“I know,” I whispered, thinking back to my thirteenth birthday party, which Tori’s parents threw for me, renting out a hall and hiring a DJ and caterer, going all out for their daughter’s new best friend when they didn’t have to and filling that room with so much love I forgot why my own mother hadn’t done a thing for me that day.

She was off finding her peace over Barrett. Peace she didn’t think included me.

Thank God for Tori and her family.

Thank. God.

Breathing deep and shaking off all sad thoughts right now, because this moment was seriously kicking ass and I wanted it to continue kicking ass, I pulled back an inch and slowly lifted my ticket between us, smiling brightly around it.

“I’m so excited I might pee myself,” I admitted.

Tori threw her head back with a laugh, linked her arm with mine, and pulled me in the direction of the stairs.

“Keep it in, will ya? These floors look bangin’.”

I giggled as we walked side by side up the stairs, asking, “Think you can hook me up with something to wear tonight? I don’t have anything fierce.”

“Gotcha covered on that.”

We separated at the top so I could cut a right and Tori could cut a left.

I was fishing through my top drawer for some panties when she popped into my room and deposited an outfit and accessories on my bed.

Little black dress with mesh across the top, revealing the tops of your breasts when worn, and big silver studs clustered in a thick stripe going down both hips to the hem. It was short and sleeveless and breathtakingly expensive, by the looks of it.

Next to it on the bed was a studded cuff bracelet, two choices of choker necklaces, and black sling-back heels.

Fierce. I loved it.

“What are you wearing?” I asked Tori, halting her at the door.

She gave me a wink behind her overgrown blond bangs.

“You’ll see.”

I showered and shaved, slathered on my favorite sweet-smelling body lotion, slid into the dress after deciding on a thong and no bra, thanks to the mesh, and curled and teased my hair, giving it body and height that looked kick-ass paired with my outfit.

I also went to town on my makeup job, keeping everything heavy but the kind of heavy that screamed fierce concertgoer and not back alley hooker.

Dark, smoky eyes, false lashes that flared at the ends, and warm cerise lipstick.

I felt pretty. Really pretty.

The kind of pretty a girl had to commemorate with a selfie, and there was only one person in the entire world I wanted to send that selfie to.

I bit my lip while swiping my phone off the bed and pulling up the camera mode.

I was nervous.

Understandably so. This would be the first time Brian was going to see me.

Like ever.

Heavy stuff right there.

I’d thought about sending him pictures before, but got sidetracked with conversation and his sweet as warmed honey voice I wanted to taste, and all thoughts of pictures would slip my mind. Considering he never asked to see a photo of me didn’t help either.

Since he wasn’t bringing it up, I was hardly thinking about it.

But right now, standing in my bedroom with my makeup done up and my hair looking prettier than it had on prom night, sending Brian a picture of me was suddenly all I could think about.

And before I could think or whisper talk myself out of it, I reversed the camera so I could see myself on the screen, held the device out in front of me and off to the right a bit, pursed my stained lips into a kiss, other hand poised at my chin to blow it, and snapped the picture.

Then I attached it to a text and hit Send.

Feeling WILD.

I wanted to put my phone down. Really I did, especially since I had to snap on my studded cuff bracelet and that required use of both hands, furthermore because Tori had given me a fifteen-minute warning close to fifteen minutes ago, but I couldn’t let the damn thing go.

I couldn’t stop looking at it either.

My stomach was clenched. I was biting my fist and pacing the length of the bed, head down and eyes anxiously focused.

But when the little bubbles floated in teasing intervals on my screen and I knew Brian had seen my photo, that’s when the real panic set in.

Would he like how I looked? Would it be how he had imagined and confessed to imagining countless times late at night to me, or better, would my photo exceed the limits of his imagination and paint a more pleasing image in his mind?

Or would he hate it and me for sending it to him, shattering his dreamed-up spank-bank material and ruining every orgasm I ever gave him?

Shit.

Shit!

Which was it and why the hell was he taking so long to type? Didn’t he know this was killing me?

“Hurry up!” I whispered against the screen.

It started ringing in response to my plea, startling me and nearly slipping out of my hand.

Oh, God, he was calling.

Brian was calling after looking at my picture.

I was going to have a heart attack and never live to see the Pacific Ocean.

Damn.

I held my breath and hit Answer.

“Hey there, Trouble.” I spoke lightly, forcing a smile I wasn’t sure I was going to keep, depending on which way my photo swayed him.

“You fuckin’ shitting me with this, Wild? What are you thinking right now? Huh?”

He was swaying a hard right into Suck Land, where he hated me, the photo, and was most likely regretting all those orgasms.

I felt sick and gripped my dresser for support.

“Um…” I stammered, swallowing hard. “I was thinking I’d send you a photo, of me, you know, since I hadn’t yet. That’s me in that photo.”

“No shit,” he growled. “What I’m asking right now is, what are you thinking sending it to me?”

“I was thinking I wanted you to see it,” I answered honestly.

He exhaled slowly then spoke, still sounding pissed off but doing it softer.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

My stomach unclenched, only to lurch and twist uncomfortably.

He wasn’t attracted to me.

I closed my eyes and whispered, “I know.”

“You know,” he echoed unconvincingly.

“You don’t like it. You…it’s not what you thought I’d look like and you’re wishing you never would’ve seen it.” I shifted over to stare at my reflection in the mirror. I suddenly felt the farthest from pretty. “That’s why you’re mad.”

“You don’t know,” was all he replied, and he said it firmly. Resolutely.

“What?”

“You. Don’t. Know.”

“What are you saying?” I asked.

“I’m saying, the reason I’m pissed isn’t because I was sent a photo of a gorgeous girl, my gorgeous girl, and I wasn’t liking what I was looking at. That ain’t it. You’re beautiful, Syd. Knew it before I saw the photo and that opinion damn sure hasn’t changed now that I have seen it. If anything, it’s become more solid.”

My stomach wasn’t lurching and twisting anymore. Those pesky little butterflies were back, enjoying their favorite flip and twist.

My gorgeous girl.

Oh, wow.

Brian totally just called me his girl.

And he thinks I’m gorgeous!

I wet my lips, careful of my color.

“Okay,” I replied gently.

“What I am pissed about is the fact you sent that photo to me.”

I cocked my head in the mirror.

I was officially confused.

He liked the photo, thought I was gorgeous in it, but he was mad I sent it to him?

Why would he be mad? He liked it.

“You lost me there,” I admitted. “Why are you pissed again?”

“You ever meet me, Wild?”

“Um, in person? Or—”

“Yeah, in fucking person, you know, to verify I’m not some psycho looking to find out where you live so I can kidnap you and do all kinds of messed-up shit, ’cause there’s people out there in this world who are like that, babe, and sending your photo to a guy you’ve never physically met is probably the dumbest fucking move ever. You don’t know me.”

Okay, that hurt. I didn’t think it was a dumb move.

And he was wrong.

Next to Tori, Brian had become the most important person in my life. We spoke daily, sometimes multiple times a day, for hours and hours.

I knew him.

“You’re not a psycho, Brian,” I said, stepping back and waiting until I felt cotton comforter against my legs before I sat down on the bed. “And I do know you.”

“No, you don’t,” he argued, his voice rising. “You don’t know me, Syd. You’ll never fucking know me. I’m a voice to you. That’s it. I could be anybody.”

“No you couldn’t!”

My own voice shook now. I could feel the tears threatening, I was so angry and confused.

Why was he saying this?

“You’re not anybody, Brian. You’re you. I sent that photo to you, not just anybody. We’ve talked every day for the past month.”

“And that’s all we’re ever gonna do, don’t you get that?”

“Why?” I practically shouted, grateful for the closed door. “Why is that all? Why should that be all? Is it, do you think I won’t like how you look? Is that it? Because I would. I know I would.”

“Christ,” he groaned. “That is the farthest thing from it, okay? I’m not worried about that.”

“Then what is it?”

I was becoming agitated now. He wasn’t the only one getting pissy and ruining the mood.

“What is it, Brian?” I pressed, teeth clenched.

“I don’t want to know you! I can’t, all right?”

Breath pulled from my lungs as if someone were sucking it straight out of me.

I blinked at a knob on my dresser, body stilled. Deadened.

He didn’t want to know me.

God…that hurt.

Worse than Marcus pulling away. How was that possible?

My head snapped right when Tori knocked sharply on the door.

“You ready?” she called from behind it.

“Fuck, Wild,” Brian breathed in my ear, heavy and sad sounding. “I didn’t mean it like that. Okay? That’s not—”

“I’m done talking to you right now,” I cut him off and stood, walking over to my shoes and stepping into them. “I need to finish getting ready for the Lady Gaga concert, and Tori is ready so I need to finish now. You don’t want the picture I sent? Delete it. Problem solved.”

I bent down and slid the straps behind my heels.

He was being a total jerk. I didn’t like it one bit.

Tori knocked again.

“Hon? Time to go.”

I gathered my purse and studded cuff off the bed and gripped the phone tightly.

“Good-bye, Brian,” I said curtly.

“Syd…”

I disconnected the call and switched my phone to vibrate mode, already feeling it shudder to life inside the confines of my purse when I took the steps to open the door and got a look at my best friend.

She wore a black sleeveless leotard with fishnets and combat boots. And she was rocking that red lipstick like a pro.

Totally fierce.

“All good?” Tori asked, stepping back so I could move into the hallway.

I hid my bleeding heart behind a smile, nodded, then took her hand.

“All great.”

*  *  *

The concert was amazing, jam-packed and theatrical.

It was also incredibly distracting.

I stopped thinking about my conversation with Brian five minutes in and danced without a care between sweaty bodies, screaming lyrics at the top of my lungs with my hands raised and my head thrown back.

I seriously needed to send Mr. Rivera a gift basket or something.

Most fun I’d ever had in a little black dress.

We were floor level, standing room only, so when a slower song cut on halfway through the show, Tori and I leaned into each other, arms wrapped around hips and bodies angled, supporting weight.

It was the start of the second verse when I felt the vibration at my thigh from where my purse dangled off my shoulder.

I debated not looking for the whole second it took me to pull out the phone and check the screen, expecting another message or missed call from Brian, he had racked up four in total, but seeing Joyce’s name flashing rhythmically instead.

She was an old co-worker of mine at my job back in Raleigh. Nice woman. Baked the best cherry-almond cookies at Christmastime.

It was strange she was calling me, though. Maybe something terrible had happened to someone I used to work with.

God, I hoped not.

I slid out of Tori’s hold, motioned to her I needed to take a call, then pressed Answer but didn’t speak into the phone until I pushed through the crowd and made it up the stairs, past security at the fence and onto the gravel parking lot surrounding the outdoor arena, where the chances of hearing her seemed most promising.

“Hey, Joyce,” I finally greeted her, feeling the pop of gravel beneath my feet as I meandered aimlessly.

“Hey, sweetie. Um…look, this might not be any of my business, but I just wanted to give you a heads-up. You know, woman to woman. This was a bitch move if you asked me.”

“Okay,” I chuckled, ignorant to where this conversation was headed.

She pushed out a breath.

“I saw Marcus picking up Christine after her shift.”

Christine was another one of my former co-workers, though we never officially worked together. I was day shift. She was night.

The most communication we’d shared was a friendly smile at the time clock during shift change.

Still…

“What?” I stopped meandering aimlessly. “When?”

“This morning. Wanted to call you sooner but I was running late and we’ve been slammed thanks to a ten-car pileup. I spotted his truck at the emergency entrance when I was parking, thought maybe you were back and things with him were patched over, gotta admit, that excited me. Between you and me, this place is now seriously lacking in decent techs, but then I saw Christine getting into the passenger’s seat and she was doing it smiling. He leaned over and kissed her before taking off. I saw it.”

I started breathing differently, quick bursts of air escaping as I locked my knees and focused on remaining upright.

“What a shit, right?” Joyce asked. “Her and him. You don’t dip into your ex’s company ink. That’s just low.”

“He’s…do you know how long they’ve been seeing each other?” I asked, but in my heart I knew the answer to that question already.

It was his reason. Why he wanted out.

Marcus had an affair.

“I don’t know, sweetie. You know I don’t talk to her since we’re on opposite shifts. This could’ve been going on for years for all I know.” She paused, then quietly added, “I’m sure it wasn’t that long.”

I was going to puke all over Tori’s designer dress.

Years?

“I have to go,” I told her, speaking fast, my legs carrying me somewhere, I had no idea where, it felt directionless. I just needed to move. “Thank you for calling me, Joyce. I appreciate it.”

“Sure thing, Syd. You know I got your back.”

“I know. Thank you.”

I hung up the call and scrolled through my contacts until I landed on the most deceitful name in the English language, didn’t hesitate to dial even though I wasn’t entirely sure I was strong enough to handle this conversation right now, but found the strength I needed in my anger and homed in on that as I pressed the phone to my ear and paced at the front of the darkened lot.

“You finally broke,” Marcus answered after two rings, sounding all too pleased with himself. “Took you long enough, Syd. Jesus.”

“What the fuck, Marcus!” I shrieked, uncaring of any audience I might have.

He was silent for a moment, then under his breath, I heard him mumble, “You know.”

I felt his teeth tear into my heart and rip it open.

Pain replaced rage. Tears for temper.

“Joyce called me,” I said brokenly with wet eyes. “She saw you two this morning, saw you kiss her. God, Marcus, you are such an asshole. It had to be someone I knew? Someone I worked with?”

“Hey, I didn’t do shit with her until I ended things with you so get off my ass. I did right by you.”

“You did right by me?” The hand at my side curled into a fist. “How? You cheated!”

“No, I fucking didn’t!” he growled. “I waited, Syd. Saw Christine a few months back when I was visiting my mom after her surgery, Christine just happened to be doing an x-ray on her, got to talking a little and, yeah, I may have flirted but I didn’t touch her until after you left. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Oh, you’re such a decent guy, Marcus,” I snapped. “You still looked at her.”

“I had to look at her. She was working on my mom.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

“Don’t give me a fucking attitude like everything was perfect between us. You know it wasn’t. We were drifting, Syd. We barely spoke anymore and we sure as hell weren’t fucking. Things weren’t good. The time we were spending together we spent bickering over bullshit. Christ, come on,” he pleaded. “It wasn’t fun anymore. You know it wasn’t. Neither one of us was happy. So when a pretty girl showed me attention after I’d gone months without getting it from my own wife, I noticed, and I gave her that same attention back. It felt good.”

“I can’t believe this,” I whispered. “You’re saying this was my fault?”

“I’m saying I wasn’t happy. You weren’t either,” he stated indifferently. “Found someone who could make me happy and I’m not about denying myself when shit at home wasn’t worth being miserable over. We were done.”

“We could’ve worked things out,” I murmured, then blinked and sent the tears free-falling. “Fought for it.”

“I was tired of fighting, Syd. So were you.”

I closed my eyes.

He was right. I couldn’t dispute it.

I had been tired, mind and heart exhausted in my marriage. I wasn’t happy with the way things were but that didn’t mean I was considering a life without my husband. I wasn’t at that point a month ago.

But he was. He’d been there for God knows how long.

Reached that point and gone farther. He put it into motion.

He wandered.

“You weren’t supposed to see anyone but me, Marcus. You promised, in our vows, remember? Only me.” I inhaled through shattered breaths and spoke with tear-soaked lips as my eyes lost focus on a streetlamp. “But you looked at her. You looked at her when you were mine. How could you do that?”

“You weren’t looking at me anymore,” he answered guiltlessly. “I was just the first one of us to realize there was somewhere else to look.”

I swallowed down the sick creeping up my throat.

This was cheating in my eyes, no matter how hard he disputed it. I knew how I felt and how much it hurt knowing the truth.

Ten minutes ago I hated my husband for cutting me loose without an explanation.

Now I hated him for not doing it sooner.

“Got the papers for you to sign. I’ll put them in the mail tomorrow. Overnight them.”

“You know where I am?” I asked, the backs of my fingers catching a tear.

“Tori’s,” he replied. “Christine said she heard you moved to Dogwood.”

“Right.” I rolled my eyes. “Thanks a lot for checking up on me, by the way. Nice to know you cared enough to make sure I was all right after seven years.”

“We weren’t happy together, Syd. Knew you’d be good once you got away. Same as me. I’m better now.”

“Not gonna lie and say I’m glad to hear that, ’cause I’m not,” I huffed.

“It’s better for both of us. You’ll see.”

“Whatever. Send the papers. I’ll sign them, then I don’t ever want to hear from you or see your face again.”

Marcus sighed. “This doesn’t need to get ugly, Sydney.”

Seriously?

Seriously…

I sucked in a breath.

“It got ugly the second you cheated on me, Marcus.”

“I didn’t cheat,” he argued. “Lookin’ and flirtin’ ain’t cheating.”

“You’re an idiot if you think that’s true, and honestly? I’m glad I’m not tied to you anymore if these were your beliefs all along. God knows how much lookin’ and flirtin’ you’ve been doing behind my back over the years.”

“Never hurt you, did it?”

My breath caught somewhere between my chest and my throat.

He’d been looking and flirting. All these years, he’d been doing it.

Oh, God…

Hand cupping my mouth and body trembling, I listened as he continued on enlightening me of his ways.

“Way it is, Syd. As long as it’s not taken a step further, nothing wrong with it.”

Nothing wrong with it.

Those were his thoughts, ones he never felt the need to share with me.

This conversation was over.

“Send the papers,” I whispered with fresh tears in my eyes, lowered the phone while hopefully disconnecting it—I couldn’t know for sure because I couldn’t see anything through my veil of watery suffering—pushed the device into my purse, and spun around on weak footing, moving with devastated purpose to get back under the pavilion and to my best friend before I collapsed right there in the middle of the parking lot.

Tears were falling steadily now. My body jerking with each cry-filled breath I took.

I could barely see.

It was dark. My makeup was running and hindering my sight and I was moving faster than my heels safely allowed.

I needed Tori.

Between a blink and a sniffle, I slammed straight into a wall of a chest, large and unmoving, not seeing it come out of nowhere if it did or maybe I ran at it unintentionally when I could’ve avoided it, I had no way of knowing.

I was dizzy with sadness. Pain and hurt and shock filled my veins and twisted my awareness.

The man didn’t speak. I didn’t either, because I couldn’t.

I fell, hand to mouth into him as his arms swallowed me up and his presence surrounded me then folded in, bringing me closer at the same time as I burrowed deeper and broke into a thousand tears.

It wasn’t awkward. I didn’t pull away. Neither did he.

Makeup smeared and saliva soaking. He didn’t seem to care.

He held on.

And I pressed closer.

Marcus ate my heart, piece by hope-filled piece during a five-minute phone call.

I couldn’t feel its beat anymore, and I was finding comfort in this stranger’s arms; his shape and smell and size became my security and safe place. I was taking what he gave and he was giving it selflessly, holding on as I held tighter, my one hand clutching his shirt as his soothed in slow movements up and down my spine.

The harder I cried, the firmer his hold became.

The more my body shook with sadness, the stronger he stood.

I never saw his face. I never even looked up.

I fell apart and he held me through it. Then I left him without uttering a word.

*  *  *

An hour later Tori and I were back at her place, even though the concert was still going strong and we both knew it wasn’t ending before midnight. It didn’t matter.

She saw my face when I got back under the pavilion, heard what Marcus did from my lips pressed to her ear, and ended our night.

Best friends knew when it was time to leave.

I told her I just wanted to be alone, that I needed the quiet of my bedroom and the warmth of my bed, promising we’d talk about everything tomorrow.

She agreed only after my promise, kissed my cheek, and cued up HBO after stretching out on the couch.

Bedroom door closed and best friend occupied, I pulled my phone out of my purse and dialed Brian’s number.

There were several things motivating what I was about to do, but one thing stood out and rippled awareness over and under my skin. I couldn’t ignore it.

This was going to suck. Bad. There was no doubt in my mind. It was going to hurt, too.

Really bad.

But it had to be done.

“Wild,” Brian answered gently.

That was all I could take of his voice.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I said, lip quivering.

I heard his pull of breath and knew he was about to speak, protest, plea, and I couldn’t hear it so I kept going.

“I can’t keep hoping and holding out, waiting for you to give me what I need, Brian, because I’ll never stop waiting. You know? You said it yourself. You’re just a voice and that’s all you’ll ever be to me and I can’t, I’m not okay with that. I’ll never be okay with that little of you.”

“Send me pictures, Syd,” he begged urgently. “Okay? You wanna send me pictures, send them. Send one right now. I wanna see you.”

“This isn’t about the picture,” I stressed. “How many times have I asked where you live? Or if we could meet up? That’s what I want, Brian. I want to see you. I want to see how you smile and feel your hands against mine. I want to lie next to you and dream with you and I can’t. I’ll…I’ll never have that.”

“I lie next to you every night. Don’t you know that?”

I sobbed hard into my hand. My devoured heart reached for him.

“You got me, babe. Fuck…you’ve had me. When I was Wes, you had me.”

When he was Wes…

I wiped tears away and spoke through broken breaths.

“Tonight, you know what I did?” I asked. “I let some stranger hold me and comfort me and I let myself think it was you. I imagined your arms and your breath in my hair and it was perfect, it was exactly what I needed because I needed it to be you, Brian. But it wasn’t. It will never be you holding me or catching me. I’m gonna fall and you’re not gonna be there.”

“Syd…”

“No…No!” I dug my nails into my palm and held it at my side. “This is over. It’s over, Brian. Don’t call me again. Don’t text me. I won’t answer. I swear, I won’t.”

“Don’t do this,” he shot in, quiet and quick. “Please, Wild, don’t…don’t do this to me. To us.”

“You did this, Brian,” I shot back. “You did it, because I’m here. I’m right here, waiting, asking you for more like I’ve always asked you and I’m not gonna wait anymore.”

“Sydney…”

“Good-bye, Brian.”

“It was me!”

I blinked at the wall.

“What?”

“Holding you tonight,” he explained, voice tight and anxious and filled with desperate, lying words. “It was me. Okay? It was me. No one else holds you.”

I shook my head.

He wanted to believe it, too. Too bad that wasn’t enough.

“Don’t call me again,” I whispered.

I held the power button down until the phone went black, let it drop out of my hand, and hit the floor, breaking, I hoped. I didn’t want it anymore. Then I crawled in heels and washed-away makeup onto my bed and collapsed on my side, face pressed to the pillow and hand over my mouth.

It was over.

I didn’t stop crying until morning.