Knowing Groff’s history, Elvie will have a song released about this in the next few months…
CHAPTER27
Two Days AfterAmerica Sings!Finale and Hurricane Timothy
Dante rushed across Ventura Boulevard,ducking neatly between two cars attempting to take the same parking space in front of Mel’s Drive-In.He couldn’t get hurt, not right now.
Grief weighed down his limbs, but he thrust it aside.His grief was nothing compared to hers.
He made it to her house without injury, flying across the small front yard and rapping at the freshly painted red door.
Selene opened the door, her hair tied haphazardly on her head, no drumsticks in hand, eyes bristling with tears.“Oh my God, Dante.”
They fell into each other, Selene burying her face in his neck and sobs racking through her and into him.If only he were better with grief, but he could be stalwart.He could be the rock, if that’s what his friends needed.If that was whatsheneeded.
“How are you guys doing?”He rubbed between Selene’s shoulder blades, more to comfort himself than her.
“Horrible.They were such good people, you know?They were like second parents to all of us.”Selene turned her face from his to stare into the house, as if looking for someone.“For Lo, they were practically her only parents.But it’s nothing compared to what El’s going through.”
“Can I see her?”Anxiety sparked through him, making his skin and body tingle.His new tattoo ached and swelled along the curve of his forearm, as if etching the words into his skin anew.He pulled down the cuff of his sweatshirt, covering the lines and whorls.
“Of course!She’s been desperate to see you.”Selene stepped aside and cupped his elbow with her hand, leading him into the house.
He hadn’t been there, not yet.The three women had moved into the house shortly after he’d left the band.But as he followed Selene through the small, cozily appointed living room, familiar objects sprang out of the background as if they were backlit.The small, neon-blue shark figurine he had won for El when they were in Milwaukee for Summerfest.Lorraine’s dog-eared copy of a Kennedy Ryan novel.A wicker basket overflowing with fuzzy animal ear headbands, Selene’s favorite accessory.
This was a house that felt like home.More than Seattle did, more than the cruise ships, more than any of the random apartments he had rented over the years.
Selene led him out of the living room and into a small cul-de-sac hallway with four doors.The one on his right hung open a few inches and smelled of flowers and steam, so he could tell it was the bathroom.
Selene knocked on the door farthest to the left, and when there was no answer, pushed it open.“El?”she said.
Dante’s heart rose in his throat.It thumped so loudly he was sure Selene could set a rhythm by it, but she said nothing.
Band and movie posters covered the walls, everything from Bowie andThe Princess BridetoJurassic Parkand P!nk.A blue-and-white Moroccan-print rug covered the hardwood floor, and soft white curtains drifted in the slight breeze from the open window.
He would have said this room was unconditionally Ellery except it was quiet.No, not quiet.Silent.
“El?El, honey?”Selene approached a human-sized lump under a gray-and-blue-swirl duvet.“Honey, Dante’s here.”
A sniff and a sigh, no louder than the soft mewl of a newborn cat, whispered from under the duvet.
Selene caught his gaze and nodded.“I’ll leave you alone.”She slipped past him into the hallway.
The lump on the bed didn’t move, didn’t flinch.It was too quiet in that room.
Dante stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocked on his heels.Whispers of songs floated through his head, but none propelled him forward.
He was being foolish.He hadn’t come all the way from Seattle to stand at her doorstep and stare helplessly at her.
“El?”Keeping his voice soft, he crossed the few feet to the bed.His heart still thrumming, he perched on the edge of the mattress, leaving his sneakers on the ground.“I’m here, El.”
He waited for a long, quiet moment before the lump stirred.“Why?”
His heart broke at her voice—raw and bloody and streaked with grief.“Because I’ll always be here for you.”What else could he say?He rubbed the words tattooed on his skin, hidden beneath his sweatshirt.Black Moan.SkeeballandSpringsteen.The latest one,Centrifuge, curled on itself like a fiddlehead fern, his reminder that even though they weren’t together, she was out there in the world somewhere.Singing a song they had written over late nights in bed and long mornings drinking coffee and laughing.The best moments of his life were with Ellery.
And now he didn’t know what to say.He was still whole, and she was broken.
Minutes stretched and lengthened, a rubber band of time.He stayed motionless, still but not stiff.Waiting.
