“That depends.” Mom frowned. “What does this girl get in return?”
Hendrix blinked. “Uh… his love? I don’t know.”
Mom blew out a frustrated breath, and Dad collected her hand.
“Besides, thanks to the stuff Everett has been writing, it’s hard for chicks not to dig us.”
“Do you need to call them chicks?” I asked.
“Aw, Steve. Don’t be like that.”
I rolled my tired eyes, sipping my tea.
Mom laid her chin on her hand. “What about these songs, then?”
“Right.” Hendrix laughed, brief and quiet. “I’m positive he’s met someone on the road.” My heart stalled until he kept going, “They’re powerful, hey. The kind that only a guy in love, or who’s been in love, can write.”
“Wonder who it is,” Mom mused, reaching for her tea as her eyes slid over to me.
I just about fell headfirst into my eggs, my pulse screeching in my ears as I lowered my gaze to my half-eaten food. I didn’t dare let myself read too much into those words. He was leaving. Again. And knowing it and knowing how bad it would hurt, I’d still handed myself over to him like a fool. Again.
“No idea. You know how he is.” Hendrix waved a hand, flippant. “He never talks about feelings and shit. The only way you’d know anything about him is by listening to him sing.”
“I suppose that’s what attracts them, then,” Dad pondered aloud. “Gaining knowledge of the mysteriously broken boy who knows a little something about love.”
I wasn’t sure if Dad knew, but I was willing to bet he didn’t, or he’d have said something to me months ago.
I didn’t stay to watch them leave again. Thanks to the hours spent possessed by Everett and his magic, hypnotic ways of making me forget last night, I had places to be anyway. I tried not to wince when I got up to take my plate to the sink and scraped the leftovers into the garbage disposal.
In the shower, I washed gingerly between my legs, both reveling and feeling disgusted over the lingering soreness, though it wouldn’t linger long. Just like last time, it would fade. But his absence, that phantom touch would remain.
After throwing on a strawberry-colored button-down sundress, I slipped into my Chucks, then threw my wet hair up into a messy bun and snatched my purse. “Can I borrow your car, Mom?” I called when I heard her leaving the bathroom.
She stepped into my room, her brows puckering at my hastily made bed. “Ah, yeah. You’re not staying to say goodbye?”
I swiped some gloss on my reddened lips, then grabbed my sunglasses. I hadn’t bothered with makeup, as nothing but big square pieces of UV protected plastic would help mask the puffiness beneath my eyes. “I’ve had enough of goodbyes.”
She grabbed my wrist in the hall, pulling me back to her and cupping my face in both of her soft, slightly callused hands. I tried not to flinch under her inspection. Even though I was taller than her by a couple of inches, she still had the power to make me feel six years old with one look. “What happened?”
“You don’t need to know,” I said.
After assessing, searching my eyes for a beat, she nodded and brought my face to hers to kiss my forehead. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
She handed me her keys, and I rushed outside.
I flipped my sunglasses down as I reversed out of the drive, doing my best to maneuver Mom’s small SUV around the gigantic black bus with a nasty dent in its front end.
I was out on the street when I saw Everett behind the car and yelped, slamming my foot on the brake.
Dale saluted me, then headed inside. I waved back, watching Everett round the car to my cracked open window. “Where are you going?”
“To the drug store, remember?” My foot eased off the brake. “Bye, Ever.”
He slapped a hand on the window. “We’re heading out soon.”
Offering a tight smile, I said, “I know, but I don’t feel like watching you leave.”
He reached for me as I turned the wheel and remained standing there as I drove away.
Raslow was a quaint town filled to the brim with hipsters, retirees, and students from the local college.
As soon as I’d seen the pamphlet, I’d immediately researched local florists and nurseries in the area and found two of each. I scored a job at Petal Power, a florist owned by a couple in their late fifties. It boasted such an array of flowers and plants that