human form, but this concert took me away on wings of something far beyond my experience.
Jack had dropped me off to the side where I could see half the stage. Isabelle came to me, grabbed a water bottle and drank it, narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re not messing with Jack, are you?”
“Excuse me?”
“He’s different, better than anyone you know.”
I nodded. “I know . . . I knew him—”
“Before me, I know that. But you haven’t known him after me.” Isabelle’s lip curled up on the left side.
“I wasn’t going to say that. . . . I was going to say I knew him a long time ago. That’s all. I’m not messing with anyone.”
She nodded and returned to the stage, where her voice—rough and melodic—came through the echoing speakers as she backed up a song with Jimmy. I attempted to hear the words, but found I could only take them in a visceral manner, not understanding the exact meaning.
I lost myself in the music until we returned to their hotel. I curled up in the corner of the couch and watched, listened as the group talked about how the concert had gone, where they needed to make changes and how to switch the song list around.
I closed my eyes and allowed the conversation to soothe me like a lullaby, laughter punctuating each sentence. When quiet followed, I opened my eyes to see Jack staring at me. We were the only ones remaining in the room.
“Where did everyone go?” I stretched.
“It’s two a.m.—they’ve gone to bed.”
“It’s two in the morning?” I shot to my feet, glanced around the room for my purse with a frantic twist of my head.
“You can have the bed, Kara. I’ll sleep on the couch.” Jack pointed to the rumpled all-white bed.
I shook my head. “I’ve got to go home.”
He laughed, but with a sweet sound behind it—like a best friend laughs at your bad joke. “And exactly how do you plan to do that?”
I groaned. “There’s no way I could drive an hour and a half right now. I don’t even know where my car is. . . .” I plopped back down on the couch.
Jack sat down beside me and draped his arm around my shoulder. “Go—you take the bed.”
“I couldn’t do that to you,” I said, and yawned. “Jack?”
“Yes?” He pulled me closer.
“Did you write all those songs?” I closed my eyes again, the smooth current pulling me under.
“Yes.” His voice came soft, like cashmere thrown over my shoulders.
“Hmmm,” I think I said, then slid into the warm, plush place of his words, his shoulder.
The stars above me flared bright, exploding outward like large magnolia blossoms reaching toward earth. I lay on my back, reaching for them, laughing, calling out, “I saw them first.”
Jack lay next to me, and the sand wrapped us together in a blanket as warm as seawater. He reached up, grabbed a starflower and rolled over, handed one to me.
I took it from him and touched his face. “I love you, Jack Sullivan. I just completely love you.”
I glanced down to see the star he’d handed me, to hold it tight, but instead found a golden ring—a Claddagh ring with a diamond center flaring outward.
I gasped and reached for him, but found a handful of sand, grating, cold. I tried to sit up but couldn’t; the earth held me flat. I cried out, “Jack,” and my voice came hoarse, scraped raw.
Hands wrapped around my middle and the stars disappeared behind a fog so thick I believed it was made of wool—pure dark surrounded me and I was alone. I fought against the force around me, pulled away.
“Kara.” Jack’s voice came through the fog rolling over the stars.
“Jack.” I reached up for him.
His hand grasped my shoulders; I jolted awake in the hotel room, holding on to Jack as though I were drowning. I released him, rubbed my face. “Oh . . . oh.”
“Bad dream?” He touched my cheek.
I stared at him, almost expecting a star, a diamond star set in the middle of a gold ring of hands, heart, and crown. I shook my head, but was unable to shake off the emotion, the truth of the dream. I believed he was there still, with me, on the beach, with my confession.
I closed my eyes, certain he’d heard me. He pulled me toward him and I fell against him, and into sleep once again.
The morning came stark and bright as someone touched my face: Jack. The words I’d uttered