Page 89 of A Duet of Darkness and Dreams

She nods a few times. “It’s fine. I mean . . . they probably would’ve found out eventually, right? I mean, isn’t that what guys do?”

“Huh?”

She shrugs. “Don’t you all like . . . I don’t know . . . share details?”

“What? No.No, Isabella, I wouldn’t—” But the way she looks up at me when I say her name—her full name—stops me in my tracks. I swallow hard. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Okay, well, thanks.”

“Are you okay?” I ask, leaning toward her.

She smiles widely. “Yeah, I’m great. Last night was . . . interesting. But now we can move on. I feel better already.”

I manage to keep my jaw from dropping, narrowly. Last night wasinteresting? She’s already moved on? She grabs the leather journal from the counter where we left it and tucks it to her chest.

“Thanks for my gift. I’m sure it’ll come in handy on tour. I lost my last one.” She reaches out her hand and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear before pressing her palm against my cheek. “I’m fine, Dave,” she whispers. “We agreed—one night.” She sighs. “This wasn’t supposed to change anything. You don’t need to check on me. I was fine before you and I’ll be fine after you. We’re still friends, so promise me you won’t be weird about it.”

“I won’t—I’m not going to be weird about it,” I say, cringing at the way my voice stammers.

“Good.” She grabs her coffee mug and turns back for the living room, acting like her usual bubbly self.

I watch from the doorway as she smiles and sits between Key and Joel, both of whom look back over at me like they’re worried I might storm off because they’re near her. She’s acting completely normal. But that was what I wanted, right? I didn’t want her to be mad or regret what we did. We just wanted some relief, and it appears as though she got it. She’s relaxed. Happy. Perfect.

So why do I feel so out of sorts that it’s over?

CHAPTER 28

Screaming for Vengeance

ISABELLA

“Mamitá?”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the phone line before a tearful sob cuts through. “Isa? Oh, thank goodness. I’ve been calling and calling and leaving messages. I’ve been so worried about you.”

Tears spring to my eyes knowing that I’ve hurt her. How I keep hurting my mother, who’s never done anything but love me. “Lo siento, amá.”

“Oh, my dear.” She pauses. “Everyone has been asking where you are.Tupapámade your favorite,sopaipillas. He was so upset when you didn’t come home for Christmas.”

“I know, but something came up and . . . I couldn’t make it.” It’s only half a lie.

“Were you all alone?”

The warmth of sitting around a fire with my friends while they made metal covers of Christmas Carols and the turkey that Becks cooked all make me smile. “No, I wasn’t alone. I was with some new friends.”

“Oh.” She sounds surprised. “And these new friends are what is keeping you from cominghome to visit youramáy apá?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes and no.”

“Isa—”

“I was offered an internship—withEarworm Magazine,” I say, cutting her off.

“An internship?”

“Yes. They want me to travel around with a band and write a feature for the magazine about their first tour.”

“With a band? What kind of band?”

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