Following Me(44)

Brennan stood as the house came down with applause. People were on their feet. Some people were swiping at their eyes from the emotional song. But Brennan never broke eye contact with Devon, and her eyes never left his gaze until he was ushered offstage for the next performer. That poor soul.

“I don’t know how he does it,” Garrett said, nudging Devon lightly. “Look, you’re even crying. I thought we talked about this. No more crying from you.”

Devon laughed through her tears and sniffled. “Right. Right. No more crying,” she said, wiping under her eyes.

“If I had a voice like that and could play guitar, I could bag so many girls,” Garrett said with a fake dumb expression on his face, making fun of all the guys who actually talked like that.

“I’m sure he does,” Devon said, laughing softly at his joke.

If Brennan’s advances toward Devon were any indication, he was surely getting exactly who and what he wanted.

“Who? Brennan?” Garrett asked incredulously. “No way. That guy is a saint. Girls are magnets for musicians, and he manages to fend them off like a lion tamer.”

“No way is he a saint,” Devon said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t believe it. Half the girls at work like him.”

“Well, you ask him then,” Garrett said with a shrug. “I’ve known a lot of guys with musician complexes. He doesn’t have one.”

“Oh, you’ve known guys with musician complexes?” Devon asked, again rolling her eyes to the ceiling. They could never compare to what she had seen.

“All I’m saying is that Brennan could sleep with any girl here tonight, and he won’t bring any one of them home. At least, I’ve never seen him do it.”

But he brought me home, she thought. She wasn’t going to stick around to find out if it would happen with someone else.

She could see Brennan backstage now, sliding his button-up back on. Soon, he would be back at their table. She couldn’t face him. That song had struck home. The lyrics were so personal and so touching that she felt like he had spoken directly to her. It was as if she had opened up her notebook filled with lyrics and let him read the pages with her heart laid bare in the words. She was the one moving forward, pushing through the pain to find herself once more. And it was then that she felt like the final song had been about her, like it had been written for her. She couldn’t prove it, and she didn’t want to. She couldn’t get more entangled in him than she already was even if Garrett said he wouldn’t make a move…another move.

She would be interested in pursuing her little sliver of hope but not under these circumstances. It wouldn’t be fair to him, or her, or Reid.

She needed to leave before she did something stupid.

“I’m actually not feeling all that well, Garrett.” Devon put her hand on her forehead again. “I wanted to see Brennan’s show, but I think we should probably go. I’ll see him at work this week, and I’ll talk to him there.”

“You sure?” Garrett asked, clearly confused.

“Yeah, I’m ready to go home,” Devon said, feeling like that wasn’t an appropriate name for the apartment she was living in.

She had found her home in Brennan’s music.

Chapter Fifteen - It’s Going Around

“FUCK,” DEVON CRIED, impatiently tapping her pen back and forth on her leg on the train.

An old lady sitting down near Devon glared at her. Devon didn’t have the patience for it right now. She was late for work. It was the first time she had ever been late. What made it worse was she knew that Jenn was going to be in today.

She hadn’t meant to be late. No one ever intended to be late. But she had managed to sleep right through her alarm.

Last night had been the worst dreams she’d ever had. She had woken up twice in the middle of the night with the exact same dream that she’d had a dozen times already, the one where she was being chased through campus. She shuddered even thinking about it. Then, this morning, it had raided her sleep once more and held her hostage through her alarm. Each time she had awoken drenched in sweat or crying her eyes out, remembering the feel of the man’s hands on her as she lay sprawled face-first on the bed. Her hands were shaking now at the thought.

She hadn’t had time to shower or cover up the dark circles under her eyes, and she was pretty sure she looked like shit. It would be just another thing Jenn would love about her showing up late. Jenn didn’t necessarily have a code for appearances at her restaurant, but her idea of looking nice certainly involved a shower and makeup. Devon had done what she could with her mess of hair tangled from her trio of nightmares. Although she would have normally preferred to tame her waves with her straightener, she had only had enough time to run her fingers under the faucet and comb them through her hair.

It wasn’t like Devon had anyone to impress anyway. Jenn could get over it, and Brennan wouldn’t be in anyway. He had called in sick every day since his gig. Jenn hadn’t said what was wrong, but it must have been serious. He never missed work as far as Devon could tell.

She cursed a second time and openly glared back at the old woman until she broke eye contact. Devon was not a woman to be messed with right now. Since Brennan had not come into work, she hadn’t talked to him in four, going on five, days. He probably thought she was a super shitty person for walking out on his show without a word. When she had found out he was sick, she had sent him a text, but she hadn’t received a response. She could only assume he was pissed or deathly ill. Neither were preferable options.