Page 33 of Last Chorus

Steeling myself, I forge ahead. “As I’ve already mentioned, Lily and Rye are renting a house at the beach this weekend. I’ve decided to spend Sunday with them and get ready there. You’re welcome to join us, or if you’d rather not, we’ll be ready for the limo at three.”

For five long seconds, he doesn’t say anything. While I can’t see his anger, I can feelit, clawing and crawling all over me. I sit still, my heart pounding in anticipation of an argument.

But then he smiles and shrugs. “That’s fine. Send me the address, and I’ll pick you guys up at three.”

I don’t relax.

Not when he tosses his napkin on the table and stands. Not when he drops a kiss on my head, squeezes my shoulder, and tells me he’s going to get ready for game night. Not even when he leaves the room.

As Paul returns to clear the silverware, I stare at the woodgrain surface of the table and ignore his worried glances. I wait to feel what Ishouldfeel. But there’s no sense of victory. No relief.

Instead, a memory slips into my mind. The voice of Wilder’s great-aunt, Katherine, speaking to five-year-old me after I fell and hurt myself playing outside.

“Did you know that when dams are built, they have to have outlets and spillways? No? Well, I want you to imagine a very bad storm, or even just lots and lots of rainy days. If there are no outlets for all that unexpected water, the reservoir behind the dam will overflow and flood the area. Eventually, the dam itself will crack under the pressure of everything it’s holding back.”

I’d barely understood what she was saying, but I remember vividly how I’d felt. Pressurized and overfull. Poised on the cusp of violent expansion.

I feel the same way now.

But unlike back then, no tears come. There’s no spillway. No parents waiting to fuss over my skinnedknees and face, no seven-year-old Wilder to tell me I’m going to have cool scars and make me laugh.

I’m alone at my breaking point.

“Eva?” asks a gentle voice. “Can I get you anything else?”

I blink up at Paul. “I’m fine, thank you.”

He hesitates, radiating fatherly concern, and I manage a smile. “You should take a vacation, Paul.”

He winks. “I will if you do.”

I laugh, and though it’s mostly for his sake, when he leaves the room, he goes unknowing of the gift he gave me with those few kind words.

A tiny spillway—a reminder I’m not alone. Or rather, that I don’t have to be.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

wilder

Tell me you feel this

Hear me screaming

As I carve our names

In the sycamore tree

“Ishould leave before she gets here, right?”

Rye throws a handful of peanuts in his mouth, chomping them as he tracks me with squinted eyes. “First, you’ve gotta stop pacing. You’re making me dizzy and blocking my ocean view. Second, where are you going to go? You’re literally staying in the house with us.”

“The guys have suites near the arena.I can go hang with them.” I stop at the corner of the couch he’s sprawled on. “Hasn’t anyone told you it’s gross to talk with your mouth full?”

Lily’s disembodied voice answers, “A million times, Wilder!”

Rye rolls his eyes, brushing peanut dust off his chest. “Hilarious, my love,” he calls back, then says to me, “Don’t trust her. Last week she put leftovers in a cabinet instead of the fridge, then freaked out when there was an unidentified smell in the house. She wanted me to call nine-one-one because she was convinced it was a gas leak.”

“I heard that,” Lily says as she chases a giggling Emma into the living room.

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