with us in a hotel or back at my place. But this felt different. She was beautiful, no doubt about that. But that wasn’t why I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
She broke eye contact first, her gaze going back to her phone. I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. That was weird.
A second later, I looked up again and she was gone.
I had an inexplicable urge to find her. But my guitar strap suddenly felt like a spiderweb, sticking to every bit of skin it touched. I tore myself free, set my guitar down, and pushed my way into the crowd.
I didn’t see her in the throng of people. Not near the bar, or between me and the restrooms. Could she have made it to the ladies’ room that fast? I didn’t think so. Another glance told me she probably hadn’t. There was a line, and she wasn’t in it.
Someone bumped into me, but I ignored them. What the hell was I doing? This was ridiculous. And stupid. Why was I following some girl? I didn’t chase women—literally or figuratively. But it was like I couldn’t help myself.
She must have gone outside. With my heart pumping strangely fast, my veins filling with adrenaline, I pushed open the door and went out into the warm night.
The light next to the door cast a dingy glow over the quiet parking lot. The bar was right off the highway, but the road was empty this time of night. Nothing out here but the sound of frogs and crickets.
I spotted her off to the side, walking toward a car. I knew this was crazy—I knew I had to be wrong—but before I could stop myself, I said it out loud.
“Callie?”
5
MAYA
My breath hitched and I stopped in my tracks, my car keys dangling from my hand. Tension rippled down my back. I glanced over my shoulder, keeping my voice smooth and even. “Sorry, my name’s Maya Davis.”
“Maya?” he said.
Walk away, Maya. Just put one foot in front of the other. He didn’t say more, but even without looking, I could tell he hadn’t moved. I walked to my car but paused again, next to the driver’s side door. “I liked your song.”
“Thanks, but—”
I didn’t wait to see if he was going to keep talking. Hardly aware of what I was doing, I unlocked my car, got in, and drove away without looking back.
I’m Maya. My name is Maya Davis. I gripped the steering wheel, chanting it in my head, over and over. I’m Maya. My name is Maya Davis.
My crappy motel wasn’t far from the bar. I parked and got out, feeling dazed, like I’d just hit my head. My hands shook, making my motel key rattle against the big plastic keychain. I couldn’t get it in the lock. Was this the right room? I glanced up at the number on the door. One-oh-five. This was mine; I just couldn’t seem to make my hands work properly.
I never should have come here.
The door opened—finally—and I shut and locked it behind me. Touched the lock a few times to make sure it was secure. My heart raced and my limbs tingled with adrenaline. I leaned back against the door and took a deep breath. I needed to calm down.
The room was a riot of maroon and blue with carpet that made me dizzy if I looked at it too long. The light over the sink flickered, but everything smelled faintly of lemon and bleach, so at least it seemed clean.
The motel’s version of a minibar was a basket of packaged snacks and some tiny bottles of Jack Daniels. I grabbed a water glass from the counter next to the sink, unscrewed the cap, and dumped in the whiskey.
It burned going down my throat, making me wince. I wasn’t much of a whiskey drinker, but I took a second sip anyway.
Sip? Gulp? Semantics.
He’d called me Callie.
No one had called me by that name in thirteen years. I wasn’t Callie Kendall anymore. I’d left her behind a long time ago.
But this was Gibson Bodine. Why had I thought he wouldn’t know me?
The box in my mind—filled with old secrets—shook. It had been the key to my survival when I was a kid. I’d put away all the bad experiences I had at home and left them there. It was what had allowed Callie to put on a smile in public. Go to school. Hang out with her friends. Act like a normal girl.