Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
He still might help the group out for a few shows because God knew he needed the distraction, what with all the Renzo stuff. Still no text from him. He’d grabbed Renzo’s shirt that morning because he’d wanted to wallow in his grief, get all sappy, like he was taking a part of Renzo to the show with him. He wasn’t exceptionally proud of that, but it was what it was.
“Dude. You were banging,” a young goth guy said to him, admiration that went beyond the musical clear in his eyes. Whatever. Canaan had never been less in the mood for a hookup. “Can I get you anything from the bar? You seem...thirsty?”
“Nah. I’m good.” Canaan signed his T-shirt and sent him on his way.
“Canaan.” Jules tapped him on the shoulder. “Veronica says to tell you Renzo came.”
“What? He was here?” Fuck. Had Canaan missed him? What had he thought of the show?
“Is. Is here.” Jules craned her neck, searching. “Over there. By that pillar.”
“Hell.” There he was looking hot as fuck in all black, glower on his handsome face. “Can I...”
“Have a minute. Have all the minutes.” She gently pushed him the direction of Renzo. But Canaan had to walk the rest of the way under his own power, and each step felt like a mile. Finally he was right in front of Renzo, no clue at all what to say. He’d wanted a chance to talk all damn week, but now that it was here, every word he could think of kept dying in his throat.
“That’s my shirt.” Renzo looked him up and down.
“Yup. You come to collect it?” Canaan grabbed the hem, started to lift.
“What? No way.” Renzo looked torn between horror and laughing. “Looks good on you. I just mean...you must not be too pissed at me, wearing my shirt all night.”
“I’m not pissed.” Canaan shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for Renzo. “Hurt. Sad. Missing you like fuck. But has anything changed on your end?”
If it hadn’t, Canaan honestly wasn’t sure he could keep having this conversation. If Renzo had only come for another goodbye, Canaan didn’t know if he was strong enough to listen. There was so much he wanted to say, but he didn’t know if he could keep shouting into the wind, knowing that Renzo wasn’t wavering in the slightest.
Renzo took a long moment before nodding. “Think so, yeah. Not gonna claim to know what but...”
“It’s a start.” Relief made Canaan laugh, loosened up his spine. Just knowing Renzo might be wavering was something. “I rode with Cindy. You wanna meet me back at my place?”
“I was thinking...” Renzo scratched behind his ear. “Was thinking, maybe I could give you a ride back? Kind of want to go for a drive with you.”
Canaan swallowed hard. The moment felt far bigger than just who he was riding home with.
“Let me go talk to the band, see if the roadies need any help tearing down. But yeah, I think I can go with you.”
As he’d expected, Jules waved him away. “Go with your guy. We’ve got this. Thanks again for saving our asses.”
“No problem.” He didn’t tell her that he’d do it anytime, because that would be a lie. He just wasn’t cut out for this life full-time anymore, and probably they both knew it. No sense spelling it out right then. Besides, he wanted to get back to Renzo. Luckily, he’d used the band’s drum kit, so all he had to grab was the pair of his favorite drumsticks, which he shoved into his backpack as quickly as he could.
“Lead the way,” he said after returning to the pillar Renzo appeared married to. Renzo gave an uncertain chuckle, then headed to his truck in a lot a few blocks away in near silence.
“So where are we headed?” Canaan asked as he got settled in the passenger seat. “And sorry in advance if I smell like I ran a marathon. I forgot how hot those lights are.”
“You smell fine.” Renzo leaned closer like he might kiss Canaan, then seemed to think better of it and put the truck in gear. “And it’s a surprise. Trust me?”
“I do.” Canaan meant far more than only the drive, and Renzo seemed to know it, giving a sharp nod before swallowing hard.
Neither of them seemed in any hurry for the heavy conversation they needed to have, so they made sporadic small talk as Renzo drove. The concert. Renzo’s week shadowing his team’s jumpmaster. Canaan’s test. Silly little stuff. To his surprise Renzo was heading north, not south toward the city center, but it took a few turns before he figured out the destination.
“You remembered how to get here?” His heart felt lodged in his sinuses, a thick, heavy pressure as Renzo parked at the overlook Canaan had brought him to that first night, all those weeks ago. It felt like a lifetime ago. “No GPS?”