When she pulls away, she gives me a sad smile and wipes a tear from my cheek that I hadn’t realized had spilled there.
“Is it always this hard?” I wonder, and she nods as she finishes drying my skin with her thumb.
“Every time.”
“But you make it work?”
She nods and wipes her fingers under her own damp eyes. “It’s worth it.”
“How is Dee?”
Both of the girls are in the same position—left behind while Adam and Joel tour the world. Shawn is the only one who didn’t have to leave someone, since Kit is part of the band.
Rowan gives another weak smile, her normally dark denim-blue eyes a shade brighter with unshed tears. “She can’t really talk about it. But she’ll be okay.” She picks at my T-shirt, a teasing grin sneaking onto her face. “I’m pretty sure details about last night would be just the distraction she needs.” I blush furiously, and Rowan laughs as she squeezes me in another hug. “I’m so happy for you.”
I want to tell her that Danica is going to kill me, that dating her ex is a terrible idea, and that I’m pretty sure I’ve made a huge mistake. Instead, I force a smile when she pulls away, and I try to stop falling apart.
In her blue Honda Accord, she doesn’t press me for details about what happened after Mike and I left the party last night. Instead, we talk about the video shoot, we talk about Dee’s dress, we talk about how she met Leti and how Leti ended up dating Kit’s brother. I laugh when she tells me the story of her and Adam—how she, Leti, and Adam were all in the same French class, and how everyone in the world, including Leti, had swooned over Adam Everest. But Rowan and he had history, and when they were forced to spend a weekend on tour together, they both fell and they both fell hard. Their story is one made for books, and I find myself asking how Dee got with Joel, and how Kit got with Shawn. Rowan gives me all the details over strawberry pancakes at IHOP, and when we’re finally on the way to pick up my car, she turns to me and asks, “Hailey, can I be really honest with you?”
I nod, and Rowan gazes back out at the road.
“When I went on tour with the band after meeting Adam, Mike was the first one of the guys to really make me feel welcome. I was so out of my element, and I think he could tell, because he went out of his way to make sure I felt comfortable and safe.” She glances over at me, and the serious look in her eyes ensures I pay close attention. “Mike is one of the nicest, most considerate, most hilarious, most selfless guys I know. He’s not like other guys, Hailey. He’s special.”
I simply stare back at her, silently agreeing with everything she’s saying.
“Anyway,” she continues, looking back out at the road, “after one of the shows that weekend when I was on tour with them, he and I went to this little pizza shop and got a pizza, and we somehow ended up talking about his ex-girlfriend.”
I swallow hard, and Rowan asks, “He said her parents owned a pig farm that had a strawberry patch?”
I nod, confirming that he was talking about Danica.
“We talked about her for a little bit, and I eventually asked Mike why none of the guys had girlfriends. I wanted to know why Adam didn’t have one, and he told me that Adam, Shawn, and Joel didn’t want one.” I crack an amused smile, since they have all very clearly changed their minds, and Rowan mirrors it before she says, “But do you know what Mike said about himself?”
I wait for her answer, and she holds my gaze. “He said he hadn’t found the right girl yet.”
A torrent of emotions whirls in my stomach—I feel proud and incredibly lucky that he thinks I’m the right girl, but worried and pressured that I’m not.
I’m nothing special. I know he thinks I am, but I’m not.
“It’s been kind of . . . sad isn’t the word I’m looking for . . . but, I mean, Adam, Joel, and Shawn all settled down before Mike, when Mike has been the one open to finding love this whole time.” Rowan looks over at me again, worrying her lip like she’s trying to choose her words carefully. “I love Mike like a brother, Hailey. I want him to be happy.”
I know what she’s telling me. She’s telling me not to break his heart. I can hear myself having this conversation with Luke’s girlfriend in a few years.
“Me too,” I say, and I mean it.
Mike deserves the girl he’s been waiting for . . . I just don’t know how I can be her, when Danica is so determined to make sure I’m not.
Chapter 37
Some days at the animal shelter make me not want to live on this planet anymore. Like days when it’s time to evaluate the dogs that were rescued from a dogfighting ring a few days ago, when I have to see just how devastating human cruelty can be. Even though we’re a no-kill shelter, many of the pit bulls are too aggressive to be adopted and have to be put down. And even more are simply injured beyond hope.
As part of my internship responsibilities, I help evaluate the rescues, and each time one lunges at me or goes ballistic on a plastic hand or stuffed dog, I fight back tears. I know they weren’t born this way—they were made this way—and it’s why my heart shatters every time I have to walk one of them to the back room.
I go home that night mentally, physically, and emotionally drained. I went directly to the animal shelter after Rowan drove me to my car, and it’s been a terrible, long day. In the clothes I arrived at the video shoot in the night before, I sit in my apartment parking lot, wondering if I should just sleep in the backseat of my car.
I slept with Danica’s ex-boyfriend last night. I had his fingers and his tongue and his sex deep inside me, and every second of it was bliss. He made me feel things that I’ve never felt in my life before, and that I doubt I could ever feel for any man again. And I can’t help feeling like it’s written all over me—like as soon as I walk inside, she’ll be able to see his kisses on my neck, his fingerprints all over my skin.
I fiddle with my thumbs and fiddle with my phone, until I’m typing a text to Rowan just to keep from fiddling anymore.
Me: I’m sitting in front of my apartment.
Rowan: Any particular reason why?
Me: Scared to face the Hell Beast.
Rowan: Want to spend the night here?
I stare at the lit windows of the home I share with my cousin, knowing I can’t run forever. She’s in there, she’s awake, and I’ll have to face her sooner or later.
Me: No. But if you don’t hear from me tomorrow, find out where she dumped my body.
With forced bravado, I pocket my phone and order my feet up the entry stairs. Then I wrap my hand around the knob and push it open as quietly as humanly possible. I’m hoping Danica will be in her room and that I’ll be able to sneak into mine, but her dark eyes zero in on me like a heat-seeking missile that’s found its target.
“Did you know Mike’s band shot their video yesterday?” she accuses at me as she launches off the couch, her teeth snapping.