Our eyes lock, and fuck, I can’t breathe. My heart feels like it’s going to both explode and wither away. The noise, the crowd, it all disappears until it’s just her and me, and the space between us, filled with words and guitar chords.
Emotion moves across her face, and it mirrors everything eating me up inside. Fear, regret, so much fucking want that it chokes me.
I expect her to look away. To scan the crowd again.
She doesn’t.
The song is about wanting something you can’t have. About the space between almost and everything. Or, at least, that’s my interpretation.
Every word lands. And I think she means them, too.
My hand tightens around my beer. Halfway through the first chorus, she tears her gaze away, and I miss it as soon as it goes. Every time her eyes drift back in my direction, I silently beg them to stay, but each time she looks away again.
I’m not sure I blink for the entire three minutes. Finally, the last note fades. She pulls the mic a little closer before she speaks into it. “Thank you. Until next time!”
My ears ring as applause fills every inch of the space.
Her eyes find mine one more time before she steps offstage, and then she’s swallowed up by the crowd. I’m moving before it’s even a conscious thought. I push through people, needing to get to her, to tell her how incredible she was, to tell her I’m sorry. So fucking sorry.
I finally catch a glimpse of her. Hannah has her pulled into a tight hug. Ada and Natalie stand beside them. Mia and Fox wait for their chance to sing her praises.
“Excuse me.” I step around a couple. Summer’s name floats among the chatter, but I don’t catch much else. Too focused on getting to her.
I’m halfway to the bar when I spot her, and she stops me in my tracks. She’s still surrounded by our friends, but she’s leaning over the counter, talking to the bartender. Just like that first night at Sully’s. And just like then, her smile lights up this whole damn bar.
When she tips her head back and laughs, it’s still the only thing I want to hear.
I start toward her, but someone else gets there first. Tall. Blond. Clean-cut. He leans in close to say something over the noise.
Summer turns, and her expression shifts to something polite, friendly. The guy gestures to the stage. Asking about her performance, probably. She nods, says something back.
He’s interested.Who wouldn’t be?He angles his body toward her.
My jaw ticks.
“Cap.” Helm’s voice comes with a nudge to my arm, but I barely register it. I can’t look away from her.
After what feels like a lifetime, Summer finally looks past him, scanning the bar like she’s searching for someone.
Then she finds me.
I go still.
The guy’s still talking, I’m sure of it, but I don’t look away to check. She doesn’t either.
And then she smiles.
Not the polite one she gave the guy. Not the performer’s tilt of her lips she wore on stage.
Mine.
I’ve never seen her aim it at anyone or anything else. It’s not much different from her usual smile, but this one tilts to the left, just a little. Her brow arches, creasing the smile lines on that side more than the right.
I’ve missed that look. I didn’t realize how much until she gave it to me again.
Thirteen days too long.
My heart kicks, punches against my ribs.
