Love Songs & Other Lies(72)

“Vee, you’ve got to talk to me.”

Tears leak out as I drop my head into my hands, trying to wipe them away before they get out of control. “Sorry I’ve been such a bitch.”

“Hey, not any more than usual.” His voice is light and teasing. Emotionally charged situations are Logan’s kryptonite. I’m shocked he didn’t run that horrible night I showed up in tears.

I reach over, taking his hand in mine, lacing our fingers together as I stare at them. “I’ve been avoiding you.” This probably isn’t the time for this conversation, but I can’t hold it in any longer, and for once, it isn’t the last thing I want to talk about. I look at our interlaced fingers in Logan’s lap. Logan deserves the truth. “What you said about college—about us drifting apart—”

Logan squeezes my hand. “Was crap. It was bullshit and I shouldn’t have said it.” Logan shakes his head and as he speaks he focuses on our hands in his lap, playing with the tips of his fingers like he always does when he’s nervous or uncomfortable.

I know Logan so well; every habit and favorite, every family secret.

“I don’t want to go to State.”

“Then you should have told me that.”

I smile at him. “I didn’t want to face the reality that things are going to change when we leave for school. I might lose you.” I suck in a breath before I can keep going. “Ten years from now, we could pass each other on the street like complete strangers.” The thought of not knowing Logan someday has tears stinging my eyes again.

“I shouldn’t have said it, Vee. I wanted you to come, that’s all.”

“But you were just being honest. I get that now. You’ve always told me the truth. You’re always honest with me. And the truth hurts sometimes”—I’m looking at my glittery toes again—“but empty promises hurt a lot more. And you’ve never given me those.”

“Hey,” Logan waves his hand in the air and I look at him again. “We’re never going to be strangers, Vee. That will never happen, okay? You’re stuck with me. Someday you’ll have to compete with a crazy-ass girlfriend.”

I laugh.

“You know it’s true.” He smiles. “I’ll say the wrong thing and she’ll burn my shit in the front yard. I’m going to call you for help when it happens.” For the first time in months, we feel like us again. No awkwardness, no strange tension.

I nod, but it’s still hard to imagine. A new picture of the future has formed since Cam left, and it hangs in my mind like a grotesque garage sale painting that’s been nailed to the damn wall.

“Look at me,” Logan says.

My eyes lift reluctantly to meet his, tears spilling over and onto my cheeks.

His thumbs brush across my hot cheeks. “We”—his finger darts between us—“will never be strangers. Maybe we won’t talk every day, or every month or year, but you’re family. And you’ll always be my best friend. Some things might change, but that won’t. Okay? I’m always going to be around when you need me.”

I nod fiercely as hot tears once again spill down my cheeks, and despite them, I can’t help but smile, choking on my breath as it comes out as part sob, part laugh.

“I’m sorry.” For so many reasons. “I’m sort of messed up.”

He pulls me until I collapse into his chest and his arms wrap around me. “You may be batshit crazy, but I still love ya.”

I have my best friend back. And something about telling him the truth—getting it all out between us—it unleashes all of the pain I’ve stuffed away, and I feel it washing over me again. I sob and gasp for air, my face shoved into Logan’s chest as I curl up against him. And if I try hard enough, I can almost imagine it’s him holding me.

Step Four: Dakota Gray Sings for the World

It doesn’t happen on the streets of Chicago, on a stage, or under bright lights. I’m sitting in a corner of my bedroom, with one of my old purple curtains hung up behind me. My wig is itchy and my palms are slick with sweat. I’ve set this up twenty times over the last week, trying to get the lighting and angle just right, so you can make out my silhouette, see the movement of my mouth. But you can’t see my face. The camera I bought has a remote, and as I push the red RECORD button, I adjust the microphone one last time before my fingers finally find the strings.

“I’m Dakota Gray.” I’m still not looking at the camera. “And this is a song I wrote about having your heart broken. It’s called ‘Catastrophic Love.’ I hope you like it.” I feel like a complete idiot talking to the camera like anyone is actually watching this, but telling myself there are people out there who will see this makes me feel heard. And every time I upload a video, it feels like a confession. Soon, I even have a few people listening, absolving me of my pain.





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

NOW





VIRGINIA


I make it back to the bus two hours before it’s scheduled to leave Pittsburgh and head to Cincinnati. The guys are out getting food when I arrive, and within minutes of setting foot on the bus, I have a text from Jenn: Production bus. Now. “Please” isn’t in Jenn’s vocabulary, but still, something about her message seems more urgent than usual. I’ve never been summoned like this before, and the weekly marketing meeting I usually attend isn’t until tomorrow. I haven’t climbed the last step of the bus when I’m assaulted by Kaley’s whining voice announcing my arrival with a halfhearted “Here she is.”