Page 6 of Last Chorus

Rye’s tight expression tells me he heard the same undercurrent in her voice I did: denial. Lily wouldn’t be fine with saying goodbye to Glow forever any more than I’d be fine with never playing guitar again.

What she wants is what many artists our age—or really, people in general—want. The best of both worlds. Family and career. And she couldhave it, no question. While smaller artists might suffer financially from touring less or putting out fewer albums, Glow has reached a level of success very few do. Night Theory included.

Eva and Lily have done exactly what journalist Alex Illoka first predicted. WhatIpredicted. Worldwide superstardom and a fanbase of millions that grows daily—check. Over two hundred industry awards, including twelve Grammys—check. Thousands of young artists emulating them—check.

All before either of them turned thirty.

My head swimming, I ask, “Do you think she wants to go solo?”

Lily smiles weakly. “If you’d asked me that two years ago, I would have said not a chance in hell.”

“What’s so significant about two years ago?” As the last word leaves my mouth, realization strikes. “You thinkClayis behind this?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me. He’s obsessed with her fame and what it can do for him. I’ve never liked him, and he’s never liked me. It’s not a huge stretch to imagine him pushing her to break ties.”

The notion of anyone, but especiallyhim,having that much influence on Evangeline nauseates me.

“Does… does she love him?” I ask hoarsely.

Rye looks ten types of uncomfortable as he shrugs. “She says she does.”

Lily scoffs. “Yeah, in the same tone you use when you tell my parents I’m a great cook.” Her fierce gaze moves to me. “I realize we’ve had adon’t ask don’t tellpolicy about this for years, but I’m officially over it. What happened between you guys messed her up big time.”

“I know,” I whisper.

Her head tilts. “Do you? Do you know that while you went to rehab, did all that therapy and figured your shitout, she was sitting awake in a dark closet all night, every night?”

Dizziness hits me as blood drains from my head. A familiar prickle rolls down my spine. Imaginary fists squeeze my lungs.

Rye shifts. “Lily, maybe?—”

“It’s okay,” I say, sucking in a deep breath. “I’m ready to hear it.”

Lily’s eyes soften. “You know I love you, Wilder. I’m so glad you’re sober, and you’re the best godfather Emma could have. But you also broke my best friend, and a part of me will never forgive you for that.”

Sharp pain slices through my chest. Rye shifts in his seat, giving me a pained look.

“You think this is my fault,” I murmur.

“God, no!” She sighs noisily. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean it that way. What I’m trying to say is I don’t think Eva dealt with what happened between you guys. At least not in a healthy way. She pulled it together, sure. Glow was obviously a great distraction. From the outside, it looked like she’d transferred all her pain into an album and was fine. Great, even. Right?”

My tongue too thick for words, I nod.

“I thought the same.” She gives me a sad smile. “Like the rest of the world, I bought the act she put on. I wasconvinced she’d tell me if she wasn’t okay. If I’d paid more attention or asked more questions, maybe?—”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” I interject. “Even if you’d known the right questions to ask, there was no guarantee she’d answer.”

Rye cups her shoulder. “He’s right. She’s always been that way, always hated showing weakness. Or whatever she perceives as weakness, I should say.”

My heart squeezes. “Remember the eyepatch?” I ask, and Rye laughs shortly. I tell Lily, “When Evangeline was five, she made an eyepatch out of cardboard and yarn for her gray eye.”

Rye grins at the memory. “She used black and green crayons to draw an eye on the cardboard, but it was all misshapen and freaky-looking. I ran away screaming when I saw it.”

I crack a smile. “You were a wuss.”

“I was four, asshole.”

We chuckle.

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