Page 23 of Crash & Burn

He begins to strum the familiar chords, and I fall in love with him all over again. His eyes are closed as he plays each note and his voice envelopes me. I watch as any sign of internal struggle or doubt melts away from his features. But they never come. He looks like he’s at peace. Nico never looks like he’s free from the demons in his head,except for when he’s playing.

He makes it to the first chorus without stopping, which is a good sign, but we’ve been here before. My heart begins to race as he gets closer and closer to the end of the song, the look of bliss still outlining his features. I begin to pay more attention to him than the sound of the song, but I don’t care. In this moment, I never want to forget what he looks like when he isn’t fighting with himself.

He plays the last chord and pauses before opening his eyes and finding mine. Before I can say anything, I notice there are tears in my eyes becauseI feelso proud of him.

He drops his pick and sets down his guitar before his hands find the sides of my face.

His forehead lightly presses against mine, and I hear him let out a laugh before I close my eyes, waiting to feel his lips on mine, but they never come.

***

“Nico!” I scream into a dark, empty room. I glance at my bedside table to see it’s just after 3 a.m. I’ve had this dream so many times, you would think it would lose its effect. But somehow, waking up always takes my breath away.

I’m able to fall asleep for a few moredreamlesshours, but I wake up with an uneasiness in my stomach that, I know, stemmed from having that dream again.

Maybe it’s time to let go of this.

Mateo’s right.

Nico’s gone and I can’t keep centering my life around this nameless song that I’ll never remember. I don’t want to be led down this road that heads straight to disappointment, regret, and frustration every time I think of him.

It’s been three years.

If I haven’t remembered the song now, I probably never will.

With the shows starting in less than a week, Mateo and the guys decided they could skip today’s practice, so I have all day to myself. Most of my time will be used to sort through, edit, and organize the pictures I took at the past two band practices so I can start figuring out which I should use to update their website, but that’s about all I have on my plate.

I also have to figure out how I’m going to tell Eddie I don’t need guitar lessons anymore before the next time I see him.

I peel myself out of bed and head into the kitchen as I hear my phone begin to ring. I know who it is without even having to look. Only two people ever call me—the mom of the boys I nanny for or my brother. Since I quit my nanny job to focus on the photography for Cross My Heart, I answer with barely a glance at the screen, assuming it is Mateo.

“What’s up?” I say as I hug my phone between my cheek and shoulder to open my freezer. I see the bag of frozen fruit that was used as my ice pack two weeks ago, and I have a hard time believing how much has changed since that night.

No life-altering changes, I know that. But, for me, I have had virtually no changes in three years, and after two weeks, I have a new job and spend most of my time with people I barely even knew two weeks ago.

I wouldn’t really consider Theo, Silas, and Eddie friends, but I am gravely lacking in that department, so anything even remotely close to a friend is something.

I open and close the hand I used as a fist two weeks ago, and I think back to the concern Eddie had when I saw him the day after that night I punched the asshole at the bar. Maybe he could be afriend. . .

“Mia?” I hear on the other end of the phone as I grab the frozen bag of fruit, but it is not the voice I was expecting. I set the cold plastic bag on the counter and pull my phone from my shoulder to check the Caller ID. Mateo’s name is there, but it’s definitely not his voice.

I put the phone back to my ear. “Who is this?” I ask.

“It’s Eddie,” I hear, and my phone almost ends up on the floor.

Eddie?

Why the hell is he calling me from Mateo’s phone? What happened? Is everything okay? Where’s Mateo?

My mind begins to spiral, my anxiety taking control like it always does.

“Sorry for calling you from Mateo’s phone, but he wouldn’t give me your number,” Eddie says, completely unaware of my heart beginning to beat faster as I assume the absolute worst. “He’s home with me, by the way, and knows I’m calling.”

“Um . . . Okay,” I manage to say, beginning to calm down. Mateo is fine. Nothing is wrong.I’m fine.

“So, I’m sure you’re confused why I’m calling.” He lets out an awkward chuckle, and I’m not sure what to say so I stay quiet. Eddie clears his throat before continuing, “I was actually wondering if you had some time to meet up today? I wanted to talk to you about your guitar lessons.”

Of course, it’s about the lessons. I shake away the initial shock I had about why he was calling and then the shock that hewascalling, and now I’m left with a feeling that can only be explained as strange.

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