"No apology needed. I'm glad you got some sleep. I'll get the blanket out, and you can sleep more in the back if you want or up here."
"I'll stay up here."
"Okay."
She doesn't move and bites her lip.
"Something wrong?"
"I'm... I'm sorry about what I did...yesterday morning."
"We're okay, Zoe. Forget about it."
"But—"
I put my finger over her mouth. "You and I are good."
She takes a deep breath and releases it.
"Really. Now get comfy and go back to sleep."
She gives me a little salute and crawls back to the passenger seat.
I pull the blanket out of the rucksack and place it on her. "Put your seat down so you can sleep."
"I thought you said I was bossy."
"You are."
"So are you."
"Plus, I'm always right." I wink.
"Ha!"
I start the car and move the SUV into drive. The road is bumpy and gets rougher the farther we go.
"Where is your favorite place on Earth?" she asks.
Wherever you are.
"That's a hard one. Do I have to pick only one?"
"Yep."
"Probably the swimming caverns in Cenote Dzitnup, Mexico."
"I've not been there. I always wanted to, but my schedule didn't allow it. When did you go?"
"A long time ago. I went after one of your concerts. It was my favorite tour of yours."
"Yeah? Which one?"
"Your Fallen Angel tour."
The happiest smile I've seen fills her face. "That was about a year before I switched management teams. I loved that tour. I designed it all."
"You did?"
She turns her body toward me and lowers the seat back a few inches. "Mm-hmm. I worked with the choreographers and costume designers. Everything was how I wanted it."
"Well, now you're just bragging," I tease her. "You should have won awards for it. I've never seen anything like it."
"Are you trying to butter me up?"
"No. You have mad talent."
"Hmm."
"You do."
"Thanks," she quietly says.
"Can I ask you something I've always wondered about?"
"Sure. Hit me with it."
I slow down. There's a real road. It's not busy, but it has two-lanes of maintained dirt. I stop, look at the compass that is on my watch, and turn. "What is the story behind your song, Surrender?"
"I thought you followed me on social media."
"I do."
She quietly says, "Then you know the story."
"I don't buy the story you put out."
"Why?"
"It's too deep. When you sing it, I get teary-eyed from the emotion. The interview when you told the reporter it had to do with surrendering to love after being burned didn't seem to fit."
She stays silent for several minutes. "It's about the pain of realizing that your only option is to surrender because no matter what happens, you can't change your situation."
Every word of her song now makes sense. My heart shatters with the new understanding and how she felt when she wrote it, and every time she sings it.
I reach over and grab her hand. "Maybe you'll write a new song now."
"What do you mean?"
"About how things can change."
She closes her eyes. "I don't know how this ends, but I can only run so long. Eventually, they will find me."
"No. I won't let that happen."
"Maybe the other girls can get away from them. I hope they do. But I'm too famous. They have people everywhere, all over the world. At some point, someone will recognize me."
I squeeze her hand. "We'll figure it out. I will protect you, Zoe."
A tiny smile forms. "Let's change the subject, okay?"
I don't reply.
A few minutes pass. "Should we play fake fan trivia?"
"I'm not sure what that is."
"It's how I tell if you're a fair-weather fan or a die-hard."
"I'm a die-hard."
"We will see about that," she chirps.
"How do we play?"
"I ask you questions about me and my career. You have to get at least 95% right to be a die-hard."
"I bet I'll get 100%."
She snorts. "Don't be so cocky."
"Bring it, my Little Diva."
"How old was I when I had my first headline tour."
"Twenty-five, Craving Tour."
She sits up. "Aren't you an overachiever?"
I pump my fist in the air.
"What am I allergic to?"
"Bee stings."
She claps. "Bravo. Are you allergic to anything?"
"Nope."
"Okay. What flower do I hate?"
"Western Skunk Cabbage because you don't like the smell. Can't say I blame you there."
"Impressive. Any flowers you don't like?"
"Rafflesia. They smell like decaying meat."
"Ewe. Disgusting."
"Yep. Next question."
"First song to hit number five on the Latino charts."
"Too easy. Sweeter Sins."
"Very good. What was the first concert you ever went to in Mexico?"
"Bullriders. I was twenty-two. You were the opening act. I kept wishing they would bring you back on stage after you left. It made me lose respect for