Page 125 of A Duet of Darkness and Dreams

“No, I’m pretty sure you did enough talking for the both of us last night.”

She grabs some clothes out of the cupboard and stuffs theminto her suitcase. Wait, is she . . . packing? “Where are you going?”

She doesn’t even look at me. “I’m leaving.”

My stomach sinks through the floor. “Leaving?”

“I just faxed the draft of my article toEarworm. I’ll stay tonight to cover the album going gold, but tomorrow morning I’m taking a bus home.”

She’s leaving. She’s leaving because of me. “No! Wait—” I put myself between her and her clothes, forcing her to stop. “Izzy, please. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry too,” she spits. “I’m sorry I was stupid enough to think you cared about me. I’m sorry I thought coming on this tour would be fine. But most of all”—she lowers her voice—“I’m sorry I fell for you.”

I shake my head. “I do care about you. You coming on tour made everything so much better. And I—”

“Stop,” she says, eyes widening. “Don’t say it. I won’t hear those words because you think it’s something you have to say to make this all better.”

“It’s not.”

“I’m not even mad at you, Dave,” she says, turning and breathing out a laugh. “I’m mad at myself. You were upfront with me. You didn’t want commitment and I foolishly thought that might change. I really thought we could make each other happy, but lately all I am is heartbroken.”

“You do make me happy.”

“Dave,” she says and stops her pacing. “Let’s just call this what it is. We had a mutually beneficial friendship. You benefitted from my writing and I got the opportunity to write about an amazingly talented band and get all the backstage privileges a writer would kill for. And well, I guess the sex was a bonus.”

“A . . . bonus?”

“Yeah.”

My chest aches as I discover I have a new worst fear, and it’s being realized right now. “Izzy,” I say, stepping forward and grabbing her hand. For a moment I think she might push me away, but she doesn’t, so I grab her other hand. The bandage is gone, just a Band-Aid in its place. “Please don’t go,” I whisper. “I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you, please.”

Her fingers squeeze mine, and I take the cue to pull her against me, wrapping my arms around her body and burying my face in her soft hair. She grips me tightly and for the briefest of moments, I think everything will be okay. That she’ll stay, hear me out. That we can work through it all. “I can’t lose you.” I whisper.

Her grip on me loosens and my heart cracks as she pulls away.

“You can’t lose me, Dave, because you never had me in the first place.”

CHAPTER 38

Let Me Put My Love Into You

ISABELLA

“Hey, heart?” I ask aloud, looking down at where my hand is pressed against my chest. “Why him, huh?”

Grabbing my coffee to go, I head back to the theater from the station. The ticket from Billings to San Francisco was so expensive it nearly made me want to reconsider, but I can’t stay any longer. Not after everything that’s happened. Thankfully, there’s a five a.m. bus heading out tomorrow morning. I’ll do some last-minute coverage writing of Carnal Sins’s album going gold ifEarwormwants it, and that’ll be it.

My heart is in tatters. Not just because of Dave, but because of everything else I’m losing. And Simon? He can kiss my ass. Like hell I’m going to hand over all of my hard work—my internship—to him. Even if he does publish that picture.

I thought I had found a new family with the band. With Becks. Part of me wishes I could stay in contact with them all, but we’ve tried that, and it’s probably best that I just disappear from their lives. Becks is only a freshman, she’s sure to find more friends, and Dave—well, he has a cupboard full of wristbands,so he won’t be lonely for long.

I hide away from the guys for the remainder of the day in this tiny coffee shop, pounding back cup after cup until I’m jittery. It’s not until they tell me they’re closing that I head back to the theater, dragging my feet down the cold, damp streets. There’s a massive crowd outside now, and I take a moment from a few dozen feet away to take a photo of the spectacular sight. The marquee withCarnal Sinsabove the throbbing crowd of heavy metal enthusiasts chanting to be let in.

What a wonderful image. Hopefully I can include it in the photos for the article. Maybe I’ll send Dave his own copy—as a farewell. I march down the alley toward the back of the theater, where security eye me up and down for a moment, then smile when they see my backstage pass.

The halls behind the stage are a flurry of activity. Guys running here and there with arms full of wires and microphone stands. I pass the entrance door to the stage, where lights dance around on the glittering metal of the instruments, but it’s still empty. Everyone must still be in the green room.

I take a deep breath. I can do this. One more night. Be happy for them.

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