Love Songs & Other Lies(67)
When they ask him about the photo of me and Cam, Logan actually does tell the truth: he doesn’t know—it’s no one’s business but mine and Cam’s. But the band and me, we’re like family, he says. It’s sort of shocking how well Logan handles the whole thing. He gave the interview this morning, and by afternoon, the clips of his statement are everywhere.
The response from fans is mixed—some think Logan’s explanation makes perfect sense. He’s perfect, they love him, and of course they knew it was lies all along. Others aren’t so trusting. They think he’s protecting me—the girl he’s still in love with. Either way, Logan has come out unscathed by the whole twisted situation, which is all that matters to me. I don’t care anymore if nameless people on the internet think I’m horrible. What do I care? By next month I’ll be old news. I just don’t want the band to suffer because I’m on tour. With everything I have to think about with Cam and me, I’m suffering enough for all of us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THEN
CAM
It’s almost midnight when my phone rings. It’s Vee’s house phone calling, and I can’t help the bubble of hope that’s rising up in my chest.
“Hey.”
“Cameron?” an unfamiliar voice says.
“Um … yeah, sorry … this is Cameron.”
“Honey, it’s Millie, have you seen Virginia?” She’s talking so fast, it’s like all of her words are running together.
“Um—she’s not here. Did she say she was here?”
“No, I was just hoping. We got some upsetting news and she left about an hour ago. Call me if you hear from her, please?”
“Sure. Of course.” The line goes dead before I can even finish. I pull on my socks and then my boots, my knit cap and gloves, my thermal shirt and polar fleece, then my ski coat. I shove an extra pair of gloves in my pocket and make my way outside.
*
Vee is sunken down into the snow, sitting on the wood planks of the boardwalk. She’s a purple smudge on a clean canvas. The wind is fierce, biting and cold, but I can still see her footprints. She hasn’t been out here long. I’m glad to see she has her big puffy winter coat on, but the jeans she’s wearing are already covered in a fine dusting of white. She has tennis shoes on.
“Vee?”
She waves me off like I’m bothering her. “Go away, Cam.”
“Not likely.” I bend down and scoop her up before she can fight me. Walking through the snow-filled parking lot with her in my arms like a little kid, she kicks her legs and smacks at my chest. “Stop it, Vee. It’s freezing out here. I’m taking you home.”
“I don’t want to go home.” Her words are practically a scream.
“Fine. I’ll take you to my apartment,” I say, and she nods, leaning her head against my chest and closing her eyes. Once we reach the road, I deposit her on the passenger side of my car, which is running and warm.
Inside my apartment, I set her down on her feet, unzipping her jacket and pulling it off of her shoulders and down her arms. She kicks off her snow-covered shoes. Her whole lower body is caked in snow.
She stands stiffly as I try to brush snow from her hair, but it’s melting and wet. “Go in my room. Take off your clothes and get in bed.”
“Cam—” She gives me a glaring look and I can’t help but smile.
“Get your mind out of the gutter. Grab some clothes and wrap yourself up in the covers.” I kiss her on the forehead, and after weeks without touching her, she lets me. “Call me when you’re done.” She looks at me questioningly one more time, but makes her way into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. A few minutes later I hear my name.
The covers are twisted and tucked around her, but she’s still shaking. I lie next to her, pulling her as close as I can, with the covers still between us. We lie, wrapped around each other, completely silent, until her shivering finally stops.
“You want to tell me what happened?” I say, brushing the damp hair away from her face and up onto the pillow. It’s torture being this close to her after so long. We still feel a million miles apart. “Something with your parents?”
A tiny gasp slips past her lips, and the tears follow. I kiss her head, draping a leg over her cocooned body. I wish I could absorb her. There’s no getting close enough.
“Nonni…” Vee lets out a jagged breath. “She had a st-stroke. It’s really bad.”
My stomach clenches, then drops, like one of those free-fall amusement park rides.
“I should have seen her more. I’ve been horrible. I mean, what—what if this is it?” She sucks in a long breath. “What if I don’t get to fix it?” She sobs and shakes against me and I hold her tighter. I’m not sure if it’s for her benefit or mine. “She’ll be fine. Right? She’ll be fine … she’s tough. Nonni’s the toughest old lady I know.” She’s rambling, like she needs to convince me it’s true, so she can believe it herself. Maybe she does.
I should say something. I should tell her it’s all going to be okay. Of course Nonni will be fine. Not to worry. I know I should say it, but I can’t. Even with my nose pressed up to her hair, all I can smell is the flowery scent of the funeral home, like a million cheap scented candles have been burned. My ears are filled with the soft classical songs that barely break through the bustling noise of people. Say something.