It’s hard to remember, when Dante’s looking at her like he’s dying of thirst and she’s a seventy-two-ounce bottle of premium sparkling water.
But then Dante’s always looked at her like that.Hasn’t he?Like she mattered.Like she was the star of his universe.
She had thrown it all away.
She chokes down tears as she traces the lines of his tattoos.His family’s names engraved in a Celtic cross pattern.A small sailboat tossed on a stormy sea.A string of music notes, playing out a tune across his skin.Lyrics twining like colorful vines along his forearm, linking the other images.“This was different.The last time I saw you.”
“It’s been a long time,” he replies, his voice catching in his throat.“I added to it.”
“I like these.”She rests the pads of her fingers against the music notes, trying to hear the melody in her head.His gaze on her burns through her.It’s like he can see through the barriers she’s built over the last two years and has zeroed in on all the poorly buried pain.The grief.
“You should.It’s your song.”He swallows and turns away from her to watch Selene and Lorraine, crooning forehead to forehead through the last few bars of “Shallow.”
She looks again at the notes and sees it then.She doesn’t know why she didn’t see it before.“It’s ‘Water Teeth.’”Her voice leaves her in an exhale.That damned song.That beautiful, damned song.It tormented her then and torments her now.
She drops her hand from his arm and stands up straight.It’s easier now, without the heels.After the next break, she might ask Maria for a pair of sweatpants.
In the opposite wing, Logan is yelling at Hank, who has his headphones pulled down so they cover only one ear.A pit opens in her stomach, the same one that wrenches with every clipped word Logan has ever said to her.
“If you think you’re not good enough, you’re not.”
“You play by my rules and you can be famous, or you can go rot in an LA dive bar like all the other could-have-beens.”
“Do better, Ellery.”
She crosses her arms over her chest.When she can’t sleep at night, it’s Logan’s voice echoing in her head.In his defense—limited though it is—it got her through rough times.Now?She would trade everything she owned, every song she would ever write, if that voice could be Dante’s.Or Samara’s.Or her parents’.
“El?”Dante rubs her shoulder, startling her from her daydream.“They’re almost done.You should get back to your mic.”
Her jaw tightens as she looks between the mic and Logan and Dante.For the first time in a very, very long time, she doesn’t need anyone’s help to make a decision.
She finally remembers exactly what would make her family proud.And tonight she is finally going to prove it.
CHAPTER12
Four Years Ago—Dante
It was far moredifficult not to date Ellery than it was to be a member of the Vendetta.Not that Dante didn’t love Jill and his band on board the cruise line, but this was a totally different energy.On the ship, they had a job to do and they got it done.No more, no less.There wasn’t room for inspiration or creativity, and the rare jam sessions mostly devolved into gossip and arguments over best hair bands of the ’70s.Unsurprisingly, Dante always settled on Whitesnake.
With the Vendetta, excited novelty pulsed through a constant undercurrent of inventive energy.Selene and Lorraine were like him, musical jacks-of-all-trades who loved one instrument above all but played several like bosses.Their voices were rough and edgy, fine sandpaper on dry grass, and they added a note to the Vendetta’s sound that went beyond the majority of pop rock he heard.
And they were family.They were the first queer people he had come out to in person, and they had taken him in as one of their own.
Well, and then there was Ellery.
Ellery in her element.
Ellery leaning over his shoulder as she read the music on his page, her hair brushing against his cheek.
Ellery, with her eyes closed and her hands on Jasper, moving through a song like it was what she had been born to do.
It shouldn’t have mattered that he was in love with her.He would have told her, would have kissed her senseless, brought her back to his minuscule dwelling that was more of a shack than an actual home, and proved it to her.He remembered how she tasted that night in San Diego.He remembered vividly the feel of her fingers against his cheek, caressing the stubble on his face.
He remembered and it was killing him.Because of Logan Groff.
Logan was easy to hate.He seemed to welcome it, like he got off on being reviled.If he weren’t making Dante’s life a living hell, he might have had his grudging respect.“No one gets famous by playing by the rules,” he had said at their first band meeting.“If you don’t like it, no one is holding you here.Contracts can be broken—at your expense.But if you want to see how far you can go, work with me.I’ll turn you into the best versions of yourselves, and you’ll be playing to a sold-out Agora in three years.”
Dante had watched as Selene and Lorraine added two inches of space between themselves on the couch.He had seen the furrow between Ellery’s brows and he had understood.Their barely fledgling relationship had to wait.This was their chance, their one monumental chance.And even if Dante had no interest in being famous or playing for sold-out coliseum crowds, he knew they did.He knew how badly Selene and Lorraine wanted the validation for their talent.He knew how much Ellery wanted success on her own terms.
