The Shape of My Heart (2B Trilogy #3)(52)
Author: Ann Aguirre

“Okay. I’d love for you to pick up an old car and restore it for me, top-notch cherry all the way. If I’m going to be an indie music mogul, I need a ride that says I’m the real deal.”

Max set his hands on my shoulders and turned me to face him slowly. “Seriously? Because I can do that. We’re always getting tips on good rebuild possibilities at the garage. It wouldn’t be fast, though, Courtney. Like my bike, it could take years.”

The sweetest ache tightened my throat. “I’m counting on that.”

His smile grew like a ray of sunlight streaming through the clouds, and Max pulled me fully into his arms, rubbing his hands over my back. “Are you saying what I think you are?”

“If you’re asking if I’m in for the long haul, then the answer’s yes. I don’t connect to people too well, but when I do, I don’t let go.”

“Thank God,” he whispered.

I slid my arms around his waist and rested my cheek on his chest. “You’re really impressive, you know. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

He kissed my forehead. “I don’t want to brag but I can take pretty much any broken thing and get it going again.”

“I know,” I said. “You did that with me.”

“…What?”

Embarrassed, I closed my eyes before answering. “I wasn’t alive before, Max.”

“Sure you were.” He sounded…uncomfortable, but I couldn’t risk a look at him to gauge his expression, not if I expected to make it through this confession.

“I was more like a wind-up girl. Not living, just…there, going through the motions. You reminded me who I used to be…and that I still have dreams.”

“Courtney.” The softness as he said my name told me he remembered that it felt like an endearment.

Max bent to kiss me, and I stretched up to meet him. He cupped the back of my head, long fingers on the nape of my neck, and now that I knew he found it sexy, it seemed hotter to me, too, skin on skin, his mouth moving on mine. I tasted his tongue as someone stumbled out of the house to barf in the bushes. With a wry laugh, I pulled back.

“Maybe not here.”

“Yeah. You have a show to finish.”

I followed him back inside, where Evan and Ji Hoo were already waiting. A minute later, Dana joined us, so they shut off the canned music and we played our second set. Nobody seemed to find our sound life-changing, but they danced and drank; we got paid. It was almost two when we broke down the equipment and loaded the van. Max hung around to help out, hauling the amps with no hint he’d already worked a full shift at the garage before showering and checking out the show. From what I’d seen, he definitely wasn’t there to party. He’d come for me.

He must be exhausted, Eli said.

Probably.

“It’s late,” Evan said. “If you want, go on home with your boyfriend. I’ll put the van in the garage and unload in the morning.”

“Are you sure?” Truthfully, I was pretty tired, but I didn’t want to seem like a slacker.

“Yeah, it’s not a problem. How do you think I keep these guns?”

“Thanks, man.” Max slapped him on the back, then steered me toward his bike.

I’d heard that born performers got a natural high after a show, boosted by the love of the crowd. Either I wasn’t made for this or the audience hadn’t been receptive enough, because instead of buoyant, I mostly felt sleepy and sad. I remembered the promise I’d made to the voice in my head, and while it was past time, it was also the end of an era. Thankfully, the motorcycle precluded conversation because I had no idea how I’d explain this to Max if he noticed something was wrong.

I shouldn’t be upset.

He parked the bike around the side of the building and I climbed off, handing him my helmet to stow. When he reached for my hand, I stepped back. “Give me a few minutes.”

He frowned, the expression illuminated by the amber glow of the parking-lot lights. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I’ll be up in a minute. It’s okay.”

To my relief, he didn’t push. “If you’re sure. But if you’re not in my bed in fifteen minutes, I’m coming to find you.”

“I hope so.”

Max touched his brow to mine gently. “It’s a promise.”

Once he left, the side lot seemed especially dark and quiet. This late, it was cold enough to see my breath and my leather jacket didn’t offer much insulation. I rubbed my hands together, then stuck them in my pockets. This seemed so bizarre, just lingering on the sidewalk, eyeing the gravel on either side that passed as landscaping around here.

So I guess this is it, Eli said.

My eyes filled with tears. Over the years I’d cried for him so often but I’d never felt like I was losing him. But now when I closed my eyes, I couldn’t picture his face anymore. I’d have to open up the album and remind myself how thick his brows were, if they were more brown or ginger. I could only recall the freckled explosion of his cheeks and his blue, blue eyes.

I’m sorry, I don’t want to forget you. I hate that I am. But I remember more now how I felt when you died than how it was when we were together. Tears spilled over, hot as acid streaming down my cheeks. The wind chilled them immediately, and I scrubbed them away with an impatient swipe of my hand. Part of me will always love you. But we’re done talking now. Goodbye, Eli.

And you’ll always be my first love. Take care of yourself, C.

In my mind’s eye, I could almost see his face, but it was blurred by too-bright light, shining on his blond hair like a halo and then he went, leaving me. My head was so, so quiet, just my own thoughts, and the odd, muffled noises I made in trying not to cry. Failing, I crouched on the sidewalk and wept, hugging my knees until it hurt.

Shit-fucking-shit. I didn’t expect it to be this bad.

As I looked now, there was no way I could get in bed with Max without freaking him out, so I got out my phone and sent, Don’t wait up, I’ll see you in the morning. Then I trudged over to the workout room. At this hour, no sane person was using the equipment. I wasn’t dressed for this, but it was the only idea I had. The buses weren’t running and I had nowhere else to go. After taking off my jacket, I climbed onto the treadmill. I started at a run, like I could escape these feelings, but after five minutes, to keep my lungs from exploding, I slowed to a walk.

This is how I do it. One day at a time, one step at a time. It’s fine. It’s been over forever. You didn’t lose him all over again. This is closure. So just walk one mile. Then one more. In the morning, it’ll be done.