She steps closer. Not all the way. Just enough to stand in the same pocket of night. “You were really good tonight.” The compliment makes me feel more than it should.
“Yeah?”
She nods. “Yeah. The solo on ‘Wildfire’? You looked like you were somewhere else.”
I swallow. “I was.”
“Where?” Her head tilts with her question.
With you. In Memphis. On a rooftop. In a mansion full of ghosts. Your mouth. I don’t say that. I lie, and say, “In the music.”
Sadie holds my eyes with a quiet knowing that makes me feel naked. “Okay.” She chuffs. “I’m glad the music takes care of you.”
I don’t correct her. I want to tell her she does too. But I’m not ready for that.
She shifts, fidgeting with her water bottle. “You okay?”
There it is again. That question that’s starting to feel like a hand on the back of my neck, guiding me toward something I’m terrified to step into.
“I’m fine.” I tut automatically.
She doesn’t buy it, but she lets me have it.
“Okay, cool.” She pauses. “I was thinking, if you’re not dead tired, do you maybe want to grab food? There’s a place across the street still open.”
Across the street. Not a booth with the band. Not a green room with people around.
Just us. My first instinct is to say no. My second instinct is to say yes before she decides I’m still a coward.
“Yeah,” I hear myself say. “Okay.”
She smiles. Not bright. Not teasing. Just pleased.
“Ten minutes?” she checks.
“Ten.”
She heads back the way she came. I stare at the empty doorway with my heart thudding like I’m about to go onstage again. What the hell is wrong with me?
The diner is half empty, neon-lit and faintly sticky, the kind of place that smells like old coffee and fryer oil and comfort you can’t afford to trust. We slip into a booth in the far corner. Sadie slides in across from me, kicks off one sneaker, tucks a leg under herself like she’s been doing this with me forever.
I don’t hate it. We order grilled cheese and fries because it’s midnight and neither of us is pretending to be healthy. I try to make small talk and fail. Thankfully, she makes it easy. Memphis things. Orlando heat. Mikey being unhinged onstage. Luc’s obsession with perfect setlists.
Sadie laughs at my dry comments like she likes this version of me. I keep waiting for the moment to sour. It doesn’t. At some point she goes quiet, stirring ketchup with a fry.
“What?” I narrow my gaze at her.
She lifts her eyes. “Nothing.”
“Sadie.”
She makes a face at me that’s half annoyed, half soft. “Okay, fine. I was just wondering. You asked me to come today. And you didn’t have to. You could’ve stayed doing your thing and ignored me completely. And you didn’t.”
I swallow. My hands tighten on my soda glass.
“Why?” she asks quietly. Not accusing. Just curious.
Because I want you near me. Because I don’t feel right when you’re not. Because you walked into my life and my self-preservation skills went out a window.
