Nine more shows.
Then… freedom.
Somehow, that promise doesn’t offer as much comfort as it once did. In fact, the assurance of freedom, of a life away from the small family we’ve become on the road, is starting to sound more like a punishment than an incentive with each passing day.
I drain the remnants of my juice, forcing a smile as Issac catches us up on all the Nashville gossip we’ve missed, these past few years.
Maybe freedom is just another word for lonely.
* * *
Before we head backto the hotel, I slip away from the group and find my way into the back parking lot, up the rickety wooden steps to the room above the bar. I sense someone behind me, Stevens or York, but I don’t turn around to look. I’m totally focused on the door in front of me, the screech of the hinges as it swings inward. I step over the threshold, my eyes devouring the sanctuary I once called home.
It looks so small, now.
Everything is exactly as I left it, albeit coated with a fine layer of dust. I take a few steps inside, sneezing lightly as I run a fingertip along the dresser. My eyes catch on the narrow bed where Ryder and I spent our first night together and suddenly, I’m finding it hard to breathe.
“Strange to be back, isn’t it?”
Not Stevens.
Not York.
I whirl around at the sound of his voice, stunned to find Ryder leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed casually over his chest. As though there’s nothing at all strange about the two of us being alone, talking like things are normal between us. As though we haven’t been locked in a slow war of emotional attrition.
I’m done. Done being friends. Done apologizing. Done trying.
I nod, throat too tight to speak.
He steps inside the small, sunny room, his eyes roving every surface. “Lot of memories in this town. In this room.”
“Ryder…” My voice breaks.
His eyes lift to mine and, just for a moment, they’re totally unguarded. The stark longing in their depths makes my pulse pound twice its normal speed.
“Do you ever think about what might’ve happened, if I’d never gone to LA, the first time? If I’d stayed here with you?”
“Sometimes,” I admit softly.
“Do you think—” He breaks off, running a hand through his thick stubble. “Do you think we would’ve had a shot? If I hadn’t been so intent on chasing fame, and realized what I was leaving behind? If you hadn’t been so damn stubborn, and owned up to what you were letting go?”
My eyes press closed. “I don’t know, Ryder.”
“Felicity.”
His tone begs me to meet his stare, and I can’t help but comply. His eyes demand an answer.
“I think…” I shake my head. “I think even back then, we both knew this—” I gesture between us. “—wasn’t going to be easy. Scorpius and Orion, remember?”
His chest expands with a deep inhale. “I remember.”
Don’t worry, Felicity,he promised me, forever ago.For you, I’d move the stars.
We’re both totally silent for a long while, just staring at each other. Not at war. Not fighting. Not sniping or glaring or growling. Momentarily at peace, our weapons down, our anger tabled.
Looking into his eyes, I have the inexplicable sense that a long, painful chapter is finally coming to a close.
The end of something broken.