Yeah.
Killer shakes his head, like he’s trying to dislodge a memory from his skull. I thought he might show you that. He usually doesn’t even mention it to anyone, but you’re special to him.
I smile uncertainly, but Killer just sighs and shakes his head.
You shouldn’t be smiling about that.
His words do the trick—my smile disappears. Why not?
Because this is Jace we’re talking about. He’s messed up. I love the dude like a brother, but I still don’t think he’s healthy for a girl like you.
A girl like me? I text back, shooting him a challenging look to go along with the message. You think a musician shouldn’t date a deaf girl?
No. I think a whole shouldn’t have to date a half.
What’s that supposed to mean?
It means you came out all right, even though some bad shit has obviously happened to you.
I snap my attention up from my screen and glare right at him, my eyes narrowing. Killer just holds up his hands innocently, then types out another message.
Don’t give me that look. Jace hasn’t told me hardly anything about your past. I’m just speculating here.
I nod slowly as he keeps typing.
Jace didn’t turn out like you. He came out broken.
So I’ll fix him.
Killer smiles, but it’s sad and longing, a far cry from his usual expression. I wish it was that easy.
I’m quiet for a long minute, absorbing his words, examining his expression, trying to find some way I can refute everything he’s telling me. But no argument can stand up against the look of pain in Killer’s eyes.
What happened to him? I ask. You say he’s broken, so what broke him?
The obvious answer would be what Jace told me—the time his dad attacked him. But there has to be something more than that, because Jace is strong. Sure, he’s evasive, but even more than that, he’s stubborn and determined and passionate.
Killer nibbles at his lip uncertainly. I don’t think I can tell you that. You’ll have to ask Jace.
I narrow my eyes in my best tell-or-die expression, but that just makes him chuckle. Although I do understand why Jace likes you so much. You’ve got spunk.
That makes me blush, and Killer smirks at my red cheeks. He’s been teasing me about them all night, saying that if I keep blushing so much, I’m going to wake up one day in the body of a lobster. I playfully slap at his forearm, and he cringes like I’ve actually hurt him. For a quick moment, there’s that gut-instinct panic that always invades me when I see pain, but then I realize he’s just kidding around, and I roll my eyes at him.
From then on, the topic of Jace is dropped. Killer rattles off a list of questions he wants to know about me: what’s my favorite food, movie, animal, memory, friend, family member. He doesn’t ask what my favorite TV show is; our six-hour marathon makes that answer pretty clear.
And Killer lets me ask a bunch of questions about him. I find out he grew up in London, although he moved to Colorado by the time he hit middle school, leaving him with the accent of a highly sophisticated country bumpkin. He hates the cold, especially snow. He and Arrow have been friends since sixth grade, when they bonded over the fact that they both had bizarre names. He thinks cats are way better than dogs, although Cuddles is an exception. He’s been out of the closet since twelve, and his parents are totally cool with it. He’s anxiously expecting Arrow to propose, and sometimes Killer likes to introduce Arrow as his fiancé, just to bother him.
It’s almost four in the morning by the time we decide to actually get some sleep. This whole night has been kind of strange—chatting with a rock star about mundane things, laughing with him, playfully smacking his shoulder when he gets too rude. But I like it, and I like Killer. I think he might actually be a friend now.
I drift off with a smile on my lips and that thought in my head: I have a new friend. And, as soon as I get to NYC, I’ll also have a new life.
29
JACE
A SIGH OF relief whooshes out of me as I hear the RV door open. Ali’s back. I knew she’d be safe spending the night over with Killer, but that didn’t stop me from worrying all night about her getting caught. I thought that fear would lessen the further we got from Los Angeles, but instead, it’s just gotten stronger as she and I have grown closer.
Ali strides into the living area, smiling despite the tired bags under her eyes. It’s amazing to see her like that, so happy and confident. It’s only been a week since she left that hellhole of a home, but being away from it has already changed her.
“No one saw you?” I ask, gesturing out the window.