“Don’t want to burn yourself,” he murmured.
Eleanor nodded again, more to herself this time. She had to focus. The forgetting was getting worse. The doctor had warned her that there was no telling how quick or slow the progression would be. And she didn’t want to tell anyone she felt like she’d been caught in a rip current—one minute standing in the surf, the next yanked under. Her doctor had stressed the importance of rest and nutrition, both of which she wasn’t getting enough of.
But she wasn’t going to let some diagnosis pull her away. Not yet.
She had things to sing. A story to finish. A life she wanted to leave her way—with music, with meaning, with fire.
Shep handed back Roxy’s leash.
Automatically, Eleanor slipped her hand into her skirt pocket, fingers brushing over the familiar rustle of dog treats. She pulled one out, crouched slowly, steadily, and fed it to Roxy, whose tiny tongue gave an enormous lick against her palm.
Her memory might be dependably undependable, but she hoped her instincts weren’t. She was counting on that.
“We’ve got about an hour before our set,” Shep said, checking his watch. “Want to take a nap in the tent? I know I’m exhausted.”
Eleanor was surprised at how heavy her limbs felt at the suggestion. As if she’d walked all the way from New York to California to Denver. But then her stomach gave a hollow growl.
“I could really use a sandwich,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve eaten all day.”
“And a coffee,” he added. “I could use one of those.”
She followed him toward the tent, his hand warm and solid around hers.
Shep looked every inch the rocker—denim vest, guitar pick necklace, fingers calloused and ink-stained—but he was far from the wild type Eleanor might’ve expected in this world of late nights and hazy clouds. He didn’t drink. Didn’t smoke marijuana, even when he passed it around to others. He smoked cigarettes, sure, but in moderation, like it was more rebellion than habit.
She liked that about him. That he was steady. That he noticed things, like when she hadn’t eaten.
He reminded her of Jet—not the blurry version from her slipping memories but the real one. The one who’d carried her guitar acrossgravel lots and always remembered how she liked her tea—two lumps of sugar and a splash of cream.
Inside the tent, the air was cooler, dimmer. A folding table had been set up with prewrapped sandwiches, bottles of cold Coca-Cola sweating in a metal bin of ice, and a tin of mismatched chips and cookies.
“No coffee, I guess,” Shep said with a chuckle. “Will a Coke do?”
“That’ll do just fine,” she said, coughing gently into her fist. Her chest felt a little tight—just enough to make her notice her breath.
“You’ll get used to the altitude soon.” Shep cracked open a bottle and handed it to her. “I had the same thing the first time I played here last year. Thin air messes with you.”
“Groovy,” Eleanor said the way Nora did, then smirked. “So, how long until I stop feeling like I’m in the middle of a space race but forgot my oxygen tank?”
Shep barked a laugh, biting into his roast beef sandwich, a bit of horseradish sitting at the corner of his mouth until he wiped it away.
“Is that where you’re headed next, Ellie? Leaving the music world for a life in space?” He grinned, lopsided. “Didn’t peg you for an astronaut groupie.”
“And I didn’t peg you for a grandma groupie,” she shot back without missing a beat.
That got him. His grin widened around a mouthful of bread and roast beef. She took a long sip of the cold soda, the bubbles fizzing sharp at the back of her throat. With each swallow she started to feel a little more like herself. A little more here in the present.
Her laughter surprised even her. It felt good to laugh like that again. Her chest still ached faintly. But her heart? Her heart felt clear.
“What can I say, doll?” He swallowed. “I dig a gal with a little experience and a lot of charm. Some guys are chasing the hopefulmoon landing. I’m just over here appreciating you’ve already been to the stars.”
Eleanor’s mouth nearly dropped open—would have if she hadn’t just taken a sip of Coca-Cola. She swallowed, the bubbles popping over her tongue. “Oh, you devil. Keep teasing like that, and I’ll forget my manners.” She kept her voice low and playful. Where had that come from? This flirtatious side she hadn’t felt in years… It was like a spark jumping from an old wire.
Shep winked at her, slow and shameless, enough to make her already weak knees wobble.
“Well, now,” he said, leaning in just a little, “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for that…or would I?”
Before she could respond, a voice called out behind them.
