I know Logan so well; every habit and favorite, every family secret.
“I don’t want to go to State.”
“Then you should have told me that.”
I smile at him. “I didn’t want to face the reality that things are going to change when we leave for school. I might lose you.” I suck in a breath before I can keep going. “Ten years from now, we could pass each other on the street like complete strangers.” The thought of not knowing Logan someday has tears stinging my eyes again.
“I shouldn’t have said it, Vee. I wanted you to come, that’s all.”
“But you were just being honest. I get that now. You’ve always told me the truth. You’re always honest with me. And the truth hurts sometimes”—I’m looking at my glittery toes again—“but empty promises hurt a lot more. And you’ve never given me those.”
“Hey,” Logan waves his hand in the air and I look at him again. “We’re never going to be strangers, Vee. That willneverhappen, okay? You’re stuck with me. Someday you’ll have to compete with a crazy-ass girlfriend.”
I laugh.
“You know it’s true.” He smiles. “I’ll say the wrong thing and she’ll burn my shit in the front yard. I’m going to call you for help when it happens.” For the first time in months, we feel like us again. No awkwardness, no strange tension.
I nod, but it’s still hard to imagine. A new picture of the future has formed since Cam left, and it hangs in my mind like a grotesque garage sale painting that’s been nailed to the damn wall.
“Look at me,” Logan says.
My eyes lift reluctantly to meet his, tears spilling over and onto my cheeks.
His thumbs brush across my hot cheeks. “We”—his finger darts between us—“will never be strangers. Maybe we won’t talk every day, or every month or year, but you’re family. And you’ll always be my best friend. Some things might change, but that won’t. Okay? I’m always going to be around when you need me.”
I nod fiercely as hot tears once again spill down my cheeks, and despite them, I can’t help but smile, choking on my breath as it comes out as part sob, part laugh.
“I’m sorry.”For so many reasons.“I’m sort of messed up.”
He pulls me until I collapse into his chest and his arms wrap around me. “You may be batshit crazy, but I still love ya.”
I have my best friend back. And something about telling him the truth—getting it all out between us—it unleashes all of the pain I’ve stuffed away, and I feel it washing over me again. I sob and gasp for air, my face shoved into Logan’s chest as I curl up against him. And if I try hard enough, I can almost imagine it’shimholding me.
Step Four: Dakota Gray Sings for the World
It doesn’t happen on the streets of Chicago, on a stage, or under bright lights. I’m sitting in a corner of my bedroom, with one of my old purple curtains hung up behind me. My wig is itchy and my palms are slick with sweat. I’ve set this up twenty times over the last week, trying to get the lighting and angle just right, so you can make out my silhouette, see the movement of my mouth. But you can’t see my face. The camera I bought has a remote, and as I push the redRECORDbutton, I adjust the microphone one last time before my fingers finally find the strings.
“I’m Dakota Gray.” I’m still not looking at the camera. “And this is a song I wrote about having your heart broken. It’s called‘Catastrophic Love.’ I hope you like it.” I feel like a complete idiot talking to the camera like anyone is actually watching this, but telling myself there are people out there who will see this makes me feel heard. And every time I upload a video, it feels like a confession. Soon, I even have a few people listening, absolving me of my pain.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
NOW
VIRGINIA
I make it back to the bus two hours before it’s scheduled to leave Pittsburgh and head to Cincinnati. The guys are out getting food when I arrive, and within minutes of setting foot on the bus, I have a text from Jenn:Production bus. Now.“Please” isn’t in Jenn’s vocabulary, but still, something about her message seems more urgent than usual. I’ve never been summoned like this before, and the weekly marketing meeting I usually attend isn’t until tomorrow. I haven’t climbed the last step of the bus when I’m assaulted by Kaley’s whining voice announcing my arrival with a halfhearted “Here she is.”
“Here I am,” I mutter, taking a seat in the lounge area. It’s identical to our bus, except in place of our small coffee table, there’s a large fold-down one that blocks the aisle and turns the front of the bus into a pseudo–conference room. There are papers spread across the table. They look like printouts of internet articles, and they’re slashed with yellow streaks of highlighter and adorned with pink and green sticky notes.
“What is all of this?” I take a seat at the table next to Priya,and slide one of the papers closer to me with the tip of my finger. When I see the title of the article, I can’t breathe.
Overnight House Fire Kills Two
I run my fingers over the rest of the papers, pulling each one aside, and they’re all the same. There are pictures of the house, the twin headshots of Cam’s mother and father, the school photos of Cam and Sienna. I knew they wanted to feature Cam’s past, but this isn’t what I had imagined. I didn’t think about all of the details being laid out for the American public. Or maybe I had been so mad, I just didn’t want to think about it.
“I’ve got footage from the girlfriend,” Kaley says, smiling proudly. “James emailed the raw footage this morning.”
“Girlfriend?” I’m confused about what they’re talking about.
