The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys #1)(59)

“Yes,” I blurted. “I do.”

Evelyn smiled. “Then this is how we do it. Trust. We shoot a few more songs, build a bigger following, and the world is going to stand up and take notice. You’ll be whisked off to LA and the rest is history.”

I sincerely doubted it would be that easy, but what did I have to lose?

“And what do you get out of it?” I asked, my suspicions swooping back in. “I know you’re not doing this out of the kindness of your heart. I’m that dirty kid who lived in a car, remember?”

She shrugged, not put off by my accusation. “A diamond in the rough can only shine if someone scrapes off the dirt. And of course, I’m not doing this for free. I have my demands.”

“Which are?”

She shouldered her backpack as the first bell rang. “I’ll let you know when the time comes, but you have to swear to uphold your end.”

“How can I do that if I don’t know what your demands are?” I shot her a look. “I’m not killing anyone for you.”

She laughed. “I promise it’s not something illegal.” She offered her long, lacquer-nailed hand. “Deal?”

My eternal pessimism told me this was fucking crazy, but where had listening to that voice gotten me?

I took her hand. “Deal.”

We sealed it with one shake and then she jumped off the bench. “Great. Meet me at my house after school today.”

“Can’t. I work. Sunday is my only day.”

She heaved a sigh. “Fine. Sunday. I’ll text you the address.”

“How did you get my phone number?”

“I had Violet’s phone for an entire day, remember?” She glanced at my T-shirt under an unbuttoned plaid flannel and tapped her fingernail to her chin. “This adorable scruffy look works but needs accessories…”

“Hell, no,” I said. “I’m not dressing up as someone I’m not.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course, you won’t. Luckily, this works for us. Rags to riches… Humble beginnings.” She touched her finger to the tip of my nose. “Leave it to me. I got you, boo.”

Evelyn strode away, leaving me with a weird feeling in my chest. Her plan was nuts. The chances of anything coming of it were slim. Weren’t they?

She’d said a diamond in the rough can only shine if someone scrapes off the dirt. The dust. And that’s when I recognized the feeling in my chest. Hope.





Chapter Fourteen





I carried the cup of steaming tea into Nancy Whitmore’s bedroom. Spring was fast approaching, bringing warmer weather with it. A beam of brilliant afternoon sunlight fell over her, and I beamed with it.

She’s getting better.

Somehow, against all medical odds, Nancy’s stage IV cancer was on a pause. Not in remission, but her tumor had shrunk and the cocktail of medications she took every day was holding it at bay. Giving her time.

Dazia, her best friend, was in town again, and her smile matched mine.

“Ah yes, she looks radiant, doesn’t she?” she said in her faint accent. Over the last few months, I’d learned that Dazia was from Croatia and that she and Nancy had been roommates at Washington University. Friends for life, like Shiloh and me.

“You do look radiant,” I said to Nancy and sat on the other side of the bed. “I’m sad that my time as your PCV is ending. But it seems you won’t be needing me anyway.”

Nancy smiled. Her skin was no longer sallow, and she’d gained a few pounds. “You’re sweet to stay with me so long. I’ll miss you.”

“Me too,” I said, my throat thick.

Over the last few months, I’d come to look forward to being with her. Her calm tone and gentle wisdom felt so maternal, especially since my own mom was caught up in her own turmoil with Dad.

“Would you mind giving us a minute, Daz? I’d like to have a word with Violet.”

“Uh oh.” Dazia grinned. “I feel a Nancy Talk coming on.” She pinched my cheek on the way out. “She’s a wonderful schoolteacher but missed her calling as a therapist.”

“Agree,” I said with a smile, though it faded fast. I suspected I knew what Nancy wanted to talk about.

“It’s not about River,” she said as soon as the door clicked shut behind Dazia.

I laughed. “Am I that transparent?”

“You wear your emotions all over your sweet face.” She took my hand in hers. “I know you haven’t forgiven him for standing you up at Homecoming. I can imagine that must’ve been very humiliating.”

“A bit. But I have forgiven him. I’ve told him a hundred times I’ve forgiven him. I don’t understand why he keeps asking to see me.”

Nancy pursed her lips. “You’ll have to discuss that with him. He knows I’m disappointed in him for what he did to you, but I don’t want to pry into his business beyond that. I’d prefer he come to me about personal things when he’s ready. But what I wanted to talk to you about was you.”

“Me?”

“You seem so sad lately, and I know it’s not because of my son.” She cocked her scarf-wrapped head. “You know that same policy I have for him extends to you. No pressure to share anything with me. I just want you to know that my door is open.”