Page 171 of Paint the Town, Dove
I was about to protest when he shot me a knowing glance. “It’s about time.”
And that was that.
A head nod, a slap on the shoulder.
Like Scar and I were the most obvious pair in the world.
And only now did we finally realize the truth.
“I am NOT coupling up with him nor am I singing with him,” Paisley muttered, slapping Mr. Bug Man (yeah, I’ll call him that) on the chest.
Petty popstars. “You don’t have to,” I supplied, grabbing Scarlett by the hand.
“Ryden, what are you –”
“It’ll be a duet of sorts, just not with you.”
Paisley’s eyes remained bored while my crew, my management, myfamily… their gazes widened in surprise.
Scarlett gripped my hand. “What are you talking about?”
But I didn’t address her.
I demanded what I wanted.
About time, no?
Yeah, Ryden Spectre… about time.
“Dove,” I turned to her. “What did I get you for Christmas?”
She swallowed, eyes softening. “The guitar pick, the one Derek broke… you had a new one made.”
I did. I promised I would. “And what did I tell you all those years ago, back at Slater?”
A tear formed in the corner of her eye.
Suddenly, it was just me and her. Against the world.
Like it always was.
“Dove,” I whispered, wiping the loose tear travelling down her face. “What did I tell you?”
Her voice was gentle, like a kiss against warm skin. She remembered.
She remembered what I forgot.
But I’d never forget my wishes. Not when they came to her.
“You told me,” she whispered, “that maybe one day… we could be rock stars together.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Ryden
Four and a Half Years Ago
She was right.
