Dirty Letters(74)

“I have something to show you,” I said as he sat down at the kitchen table.

“Did you finally get around to painting the Atlantic puffin?”

“No. He’s still on the back burner, as is all painting at the moment.” I rolled up my sleeve and displayed my new skin art. “I got a tattoo.”

His eyes widened. “Oh wow.”

“Isabella and I designed this together. We’d planned to get matching ones. I hadn’t even been able to look at the design, let alone think about getting it, up until recently. I went and had it done a couple of days ago.”

Doc tilted his head to examine it. “It’s very beautiful. Why do you think you were suddenly able to do it?”

“Everything has felt different since letting Griffin go; maybe it’s a side effect of a broken heart. It almost feels like . . . I have nothing to lose anymore.”

“Well, permanently marking your skin with a reminder of Isabella is certainly a huge step toward healing and acceptance. I’m quite proud of you.”

“Yeah. I agree. I’m proud of me, too.” I smiled.

“As for your new outlook after ending things with Griffin, I don’t think we ever know how traumatic events will impact us until they happen.”

“It’s seriously like I just don’t care about anything anymore, like I don’t care if I live or die.”

His expression dampened. “You’re not feeling suicidal at all, right? Because, Luca, you need to tell me if that ever happens.”

“No. Not suicidal. I could never take my own life. I’d be too scared. It’s just a feeling of overall numbness.”

“Have you spoken to him?”

“No. I haven’t contacted him, and he hasn’t contacted me, either. Pretty sure he might hate me right now.”

Doc’s eyes moved from side to side. He looked a little guilty, like there was something he wasn’t telling me.

“What’s that look?”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“And you know this because?”

“He’s called a few times to check on you. He’s concerned about you.”

“You’ve spoken to Griffin?”

“He never exactly told me not to tell you. Though I was never sure if I should. But I’m telling you now. Seeing as though you’ve drawn the wrong conclusion regarding his current attitude toward you, I felt it was necessary.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“He mainly just wants to know if you’re okay. I tell him what I can without violating our confidentiality.”

I didn’t know whether Griffin contacting Doc made me feel worse or not. I missed him so incredibly much, but at the same time, a part of me hoped he wasn’t hung up on me, that he could move on with his life like he deserved. Yet the bigger part of me was relieved that he didn’t hate me, and that he cared enough to check on me. Even in our absence, Griffin knew me; he knew contacting me would send me into an emotional tailspin.

“Thank you for keeping him posted. I’m sorry you’re stuck in the middle.”

“It’s no problem, Luca. I consider Griffin a friend. Of course, my allegiance will always be to you, so if you tell me not to speak to him, I won’t.”

“No. I would never do that.”

A part of me wanted to say, “Tell him I love him.” But I couldn’t.



I don’t know what possessed me to check Archer’s website that night. I knew the tour would be winding down soon. The site listed all the past locations, and I couldn’t help but notice that next to Minneapolis, it said: CANCELED. I looked at the date and realized that it was the day I’d ended things. My heart clenched. I wouldn’t know for sure, but my gut told me that Griffin was too upset to perform. Given that he was the quintessential professional, that really spoke volumes about what I’d done to him.

I noticed that tomorrow night was the Los Angeles concert. I remembered Griffin saying that there would be a live feed available of that show that could be viewed on the band’s website. It was a gift to their fans around the world who couldn’t attend one of their concerts. I knew it would be incredibly painful to watch, but a part of me needed to know he was okay. I needed to hear his voice and see his face, even if it killed me. I looked down at the tattoo on my inner forearm. I could hear Izzy’s words from her yearbook message. “You’re fearless.” That was her impression of me and had nothing to do with the current reality . . . but I could at least try to live up to it occasionally. Watching Griffin tomorrow would be a true test of strength for sure.



The following night, my heart had never beat so fast. I wasn’t ready for this, but I would never be ready. A message on the site prompted me to click on a box to watch the Los Angeles concert live. I must have been early. It said it was set to start at 8:00 Pacific time, so that meant there were still ten minutes or so to go. My hands were clammy and my knees were bobbing up and down.

The wait seemed like forever until the screen suddenly changed. My heart sped up. The show was about to start. I heard the sound of thousands of people screaming as the lighting changed. Then a camera slowly zoomed in on the stage. There was Griffin sitting on a stool with a spotlight on him. He began to sing a cappella, and it immediately gave me chills. My heart came alive at the sound of his crooning. Then the instruments eventually joined in. It was a song I recognized as being one of their more popular tunes.