Page 94 of The Heartbreakers
Only then did I see that real Oliver Perry smile. “Is this your way of asking me out on a date? ’Cause I’ll have to talk with my manager and see if I can fit you in.”
“Date? I never mentioned a date,” I said, but we were both grinning.
We didn’t get to talk long after that, because the boys were beckoned back onstage by chants for an encore. As I stood next to my siblings and watched, I was overwhelmed by such a foreign feeling that I didn’t know what to do with myself.
Cara bumped her hip against mine to grab my attention. “You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said, nodding once. “I think so.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Never mind,” I said and shrugged her off. “It’s going to sound stupid.”
Our conversation caught Drew’s attention. “Come on, Stella. What’s bothering you?”
“Nothing’s bothering me,” I said immediately. It was the truth, and to prove it, I offered them both a smile. Drew seemed to believe me, and he turned his attention back to the stage. Cara, on the other hand, wasn’t willing to let it go. I could tell from the look on her face that she thought I was lying, so I gave in. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy in my life.”
Cara’s forehead scrunched up at my response. “Then what’s your deal? Why are you acting so mopey?”
“Sorry,” I apologized. “I’m not trying to, but it just feels weird, you know? I can’t remember the last time that everything’s felt this…perfect.”
Finally, Cara seemed to understand what I was trying to explain. That empty void I’d been trying to fill since seeing Bianca’s picture of the little girl was finally overflowing again. “It does feel strange, doesn’t it?” she said. “But you have to stop thinking about it. Just enjoy the moment.”
I opened my mouth to respond—because I was totally enjoying the moment—but my words were drowned out by the cheers of the crowd as the boys stepped back onstage. Cara joined in with an ear-piercing screech.
I raised an eyebrow at her.
“What?” she said with a shrug. “I can’t help it. I just love the Heartbreakers!”
Her words made something inside me shift, and I surprised us both by letting out my own fan-girl scream. The truth was, I loved the Heartbreakers too. Maybe at one time I’d hated their music, but that was when I was a different girl. The Heartbreakers hadn’t just grown on me—they’d grown to be apartof me, one that I’d never be able to sever. These boys were like my second family, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Cara snorted. “Okay, what the hell was that?” she asked and put a hand on her hip.
“What?” I said. “I can’t show a little appreciation too?”
She narrowed her eyes for a moment as if considering my answer, and then she burst out laughing. It only took seconds before I was laughing along with her. For the next five minutes we stood backstage as the Heartbreakers sang their final song and laughed until our sides ached. Maybe it was the adrenaline from hearing Oliver’s song for me, or the electricity that always seemed to be in the air at concerts, the ebb and flow of energy that moved between the performers and the audience. Or maybe it was just the love from one sister to another. Whatever it was, it was making us giddy. We both felt the change. It was in the air and our hearts, and this time it was real. It made me feel like I was flying.
“I love you, loser,” Cara wheezed as we tried to catch our breath.
“Yeah,” I said back. “I love you too.”
There wasn’t a better moment than now. We were together. We were happy. We were free.
Epilogue
“Dang, Stella. Did you let Cara pack for you?” Drew asked, grunting as he set down another heavy box. Even though it was freezing outside, and I spotted a small ring of sweat around the collar of his T-shirt.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked from my spot on the floor. I’d opened one of my duffels in the middle of the room and was sorting through clothes.
“That you packed way too much,” he said before pressing a water bottle to his lips and chugging. The thin plastic crinkled up as he sucked down all its content, and when he finished, he gasped, “How does one person even have this much junk?”
“It’s not junk,” I responded. “And I’m going to be living here.”
“I get that,” Drew said, “but where are you going to put everything?”
“Let me worry about that,” I told him and pulled one of my favorite tops out of the bag. Quickly deciding that only my nicest clothes would get a hanger in the closet, I folded the shirt and put it in a pile destined for the dresser. “You finish unloading the car.”
We were in the process of moving me into my dorm at school in New York. Drew and I had arrived early this morning, pulling up in the family van just in time to see the sun’s first rays glimmer off the frozen snow as we carried a load of boxes across the lawn. For the past two hours, Drew had been running back and forth between my room and the van as he emptied the car of my luggage.
