On impulse, I pull my phone free and just do it, sending him a message before I chicken out.
Me: Missed you tonight. Was hoping to see you at the concert. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. Maybe we can catch up sometime. Hope you’re doing okay.
I bite my lip, reading it back and wondering if I should press Send. It feels like an explosive text, each of those words potentially tearing a hole right through my defenses.
Do I really want to say that to him?
Yes! Press Send!
“Dani, let’s go.” Tobin grabs my wrist, pulling me forward, and my thumb bumps the send button, the message going through.
I watch the box appear on my screen, holding my breath and toying with the idea of deleting it, but Tobin’s pulling me into this after-party andugh!
Slipping the phone into the back pocket of my jeans, I let that message linger in the sphere or wherever the hell it goes. It’ll be on Tyrell’s screen by now. He’s probably read it already.
And great, now I’m going to spend the rest of the night obsessing over whether or not he’ll text me back.
Shit, I shouldn’t have sent it.
I’m about to pull out my phone and delete the message, but Tobin won’t let me.
“Get off your phone and be in the moment, please,” he singsongs, introducing me to some hot guy in leather pants with a neck tattoo.
I force polite conversation while Jed and Tobin gush to the woman beside him about how much they loved the concert.
It’s painful and awkward, and when I spot Nix and Darian moving farther into the room, I take off after them.
They veer left, and I’m about to follow when I end up bumping into Reef.
Oh great.
“Hey… again.” I stutter to a stop, my tone far from enthusiastic as I give him an awkward smile. “Uh… nice job tonight.”
“Yeah, thanks.” His eyes are kind of glazed; he obviously lit up just before entering the party. Although maybe it’s not just weed. There’s a dangerous energy coming off him, a vacant, lax smile… and the way his eyes trail down my body is making me squirm.
Who knows what the hell he’ll say in his current condition? I’m pretty sure he was as close to sober as he could get when I bumped into him that other day and he made it clear that I let Atlas down.
I don’t want to know what his high brain thinks about it.
I shift away from him, searching the room for my friends, and end up bumping into another band member. The drummer. His hair is still wet from the exertion on stage, and yep, he stinks.
“Hey.” He grins down at me, looking just as wasted as Reef. “Who’s this?”
“This…” Reef rests a hand on my shoulder. “This is the girl who used to go out with Atlas. Do you remember that guy? He was like the best guitarist I knew.” His words are slurred and offbeat.
“No fucking way!” The drummer gives me a dopey smile. “You’re Atlas’s girl?”
“Well… I… I was.” Past tense. It always used to be so brutal that I’d keep it in the present.“Yes, I am Atlas’s girl.”It didn’t matter that he was dead. I was his, always and forever.
But I just saidwas.
And it didn’t hurt.
Because Ihavefinally let him go.
I was Atlas’s girl, but he’s dead, and I don’t belong to anyone.
I’m my own person. A woman who wants a man but doesn’t need one.
