Page 117 of A Duet of Darkness and Dreams

“If you need any help, you know you can always ask me, right?” I say. “You don’t need to take it out on poor innocent ashtrays.”

She turns pink all the way to her ears and she looks so goddamn pretty—even if she is covered in blood. I wrap her hand with a clean bandage and tie it off. “There. A few days and you’ll be as good as new.”

She sighs deeply. “Thanks for fixing me up, doc,” she jokes before standing.

“Do you want to stay here?” I blurt out before I can reel the thought back in.

Her lips part and she blinks at me.

“I just—I mean,” I stammer. “I was just going to get some snacks and watch TV. To be honest, I’m kind of bored here all by myself.”

“Oh,” she says, glancing past me at the small motel room andmaking me aware for the first time that there’s no couch. Just the one bed to sit on.

“Well.” She glances down at herself. “I should probably change first. There’s blood on my clothes.”

“I’ll get your bag,”

“Dave, no. I can do it—”

“Seriously? What kind of person would I be if I let you back in there to step on some broken piece of ashtray hiding in the carpet?”

Before she can argue, I’m back out the door and ducking into the next motel room. I pick up as much of the broken ashtray as I can find and put it in the trash. She doesn’t seem to have unpacked, so I grab her bag and the keys and turn off the lights.

She lets go of a breathy laugh when I reenter, and I smile. “Come on, why don’t you get changed and I’ll grab some snacks from the vending machine.”

“Are you sure I’m not intruding?”

I nod. “Yeah. You’re doing me a favor. Come on, we’ll watch TV.”

Hesitantly, she smiles. “Okay.”

“Here,” I say, squatting down and placing her bag at her feet.

When I look up, we’re at eye level and she’s looking at me with those sparkling eyes. Tentatively, she reaches out and places her hand on my cheek. My breath catches at her soft touch. “Thank you.”

I simply nod, then grab my wallet before heading out the door to grab some munchies. The cold air hits me and I can suddenly think a little clearer. What the fuck am I thinking? The two of us hanging out on a bed together? This is a bad idea.

Feeding some one-dollar bills through the vending machine, I choose an assortment of snacks and I momentarily panic, wondering if she won’t like what I’ve picked. I’m starting to lose my mind. Why do I care if she likes my snack choice?

Because I want her to like my choices. I want her to like . . . me. And she does. I know she does. I can see it on her face whenever we’re together. The way she smiles slyly when she wants to laugh at something I’ve told the guys. How her eyes seem to want to memorize every detail of my face when we’re alone together. How I want to do the same to her. Would that really be so bad?

You shouldn’t live your life consumed with the fear that things outside of your control will happen.

But it is terrifying. Loving anyone is a terrifying ordeal. And I—

I love her.

A warmth spreads through my veins at the thought. Glancing back at the room, it hits me like a bolt of lightning. Is this why I’ve had no interest in anyone else? The amount of beautiful girls who’ve donned our wristbands backstage has been overwhelming. But I didn’t want any of them. I just wanted her. God, how could I be so stupid for so long? And I’ve hurt her. Ignored her and pushed her away. I’m a fucking idiot.

But what if this turns out just like before? My experience with love hasn’t been the best. Besides, Izzy is right. She doesn’t know what she’s right about, but Iamhaunted. Would she understand that pain? Can I bare my soul and have her accept me anyway?

Puffing air into my cheeks, I collect the bags of chips, the licorice and Charleston Chew bars, and head back to the room. When I open the door, she’s sitting on the bed in an oversized T-shirt and shorts. Her hoop earrings are gone and her hair is a tumble of thick curls that fall over her shoulder. She looks incredible, even with her hand all bandaged up. It felt nice to take care of her.

“Hey,” she says quietly.

Closing my mouth, I walk toward the bed and dump the bags down. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I got a few things.”

She reaches for a bag of BBQ chips and smiles. “This is great,” she says. “And . . . thank you again for . . .” She raises her hand.

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