Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“Holy shit, Parker.” My whole face broke into a grin, so excited for him—for the band to get an amazing chance. This was what we’d all been working for, and it was happening. “Freaking Rufio. How insane is that?”
I barely had any energy left, but I used it all to feel joy for my best friend—my stepbrother who became so much more despite our best efforts. But as my energy faded, reality crept in. I took in his hesitant smile and realized I hadn’t heard the whole story.
“When do you leave? Where are you going?” I peppered him with questions, hoping to ask the right one—hoping it wasn’t the omen lingering in the background of the conversation.
“They start touring next week, and they want us there for all of it.”
“Oh, wow. That’s…a lot.”
“Yeah.” A lip bite was my only warning. “Do you think you’re up for it?”
“For what?” Surely, he couldn’t mean me going with them. The very idea of it had tension and fear crawling up my throat, but I swallowed it down, waiting for his answer.
“To tour. You’re part of the band.”
I was shaking my head before he even finished. “No. No, Parker.” The trembling started deep inside and vibrated through every inch of me, and yet, nothing actually shook. “I can’t.”
“If you’re not ready yet, I can ask if you can join us later?” he offered, trying to look hopeful, but I saw the truth lingering in his gaze. He knew.
“I won’t,” I clarified.
His shoulders dropped, and just before he looked away, I saw his lip get trapped under his teeth again.
The boy I loved sat before me, indecision and guilt weighing on him, holding him down in an awkward position that looked ill-fitting. The boy I loved, whose dream he worked so hard for, sat there unable to be happy, and I loved him enough to absolve him and push him to take that dream.
I squeezed his palm in mine as hard as I could. “Parker,” I said and waited for him to face me. “The band was never mine—it was never my dream. You just let me be a part of it. It was fun,” I managed to say despite my throat closing around the words. “But I can’t do this. I can’t ever imagine putting myself out there. I can’t—”
His face crumpled, and despite all I’d been through, I hated watching him hurt. He leaned forward and rested his forehead to mine, our breaths mixing in the space between. “I’m so sorry, Nova,” he said again.
“I know, and I’m telling you it’s okay.”
He dropped his head to my shoulder, and like so many nights before, he crawled into bed against my side. We laid there silently, my hand in his and the other brushing through his hair.
I was young, and my future loomed with so much uncertainty. I had no idea how I’d take the next step or where it would lead, but I did know one thing: I loved Parker Callahan, and no matter what he’d done, I couldn’t let him give up his dream for me.
“Go.”
He shifted to his elbow, looking down with his brow furrowed. “What?”
“Go on tour. Go get your dream. Prove to them that you can.”
He shook his head. “Nova, I—”
“You can. And you will.”
I scrounged up ferocity I was far from feeling and dared him to challenge me. He studied my face, looking for holes and lies in what I said. When he didn’t find any, his face softened, and he stroked his thumb along my cheek.
“Fucking, Supernova. Bright and powerful.”
I leaned into his touch and heaved a sigh of relief when he retook his spot against my side, and I could relax from holding strong when all I wanted to do was cry.
I needed him more than ever before. The future loomed a little darker, but I refused to let anything of mine hold him back. Imagining him gone next week had fire burning up my throat.
“You’ll call?” I asked.
“All the time. And I’ll come back for homecoming and the holidays. I can’t miss your senior homecoming.”
“Especially since you missed yours,” I joked, remembering the guys going to a concert instead of the dance last year.
“If I couldn’t have the date I wanted, then I didn’t want to go. But I have you now and I’ll be there.”
“You promise?”
“I promise,” he said meeting my eyes with sincerity.
“Promise me on your vintage Fender,” I demanded. I needed him to know how serious I was and that Fender was his favorite.
He slipped his pinky through mine and squeezed tight, not looking away, “I swear on my Fender. I’ll call and I’ll be back for you.”
“You better,” I whispered.
“I promise.”
But all too soon, the calls tapered off or went missed and unreturned. Parker didn’t make it to homecoming. I’d sat at home, all done up in my blue dress because it was his favorite color, and never even got a phone call.