24
LUKE
The venue is packed. I’ve been relegated to the backstage space where I sit on a road case, feet tucked onto the edge, my arms resting on my knees.
I’m a shell of myself. Going through the motions. Everyone knows something is going on with me, but every time they ask if I’m okay, I just tell them I’m fine. Not convincingly, mind you. But that seems to keep them at bay.
If Eleanor leaves Austin, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ve been in the moment as much as I can be, but I haven’t been able to keep my mind from drifting. All the things we could do together. The plans. The things people do when they share a life.
I’ve never been like this with someone. Not since I’ve gotten my shit together, and I’m not some bumbling twenty-something, trying to get by with no brain and a buck. I know in my gut that my connection with Eleanor is right . I’m not just trying to fill a void because I’m lonely. She answers something in me. Something I’ve been missing.
I’ll go back to being the old me if she leaves. And I don’t want to be him anymore.
But it’s her prerogative. Her life.
If she doesn’t want me in it, though, I’ll be devastated.
The band tonight isn’t really holding my attention. They’re a regional favorite, clearly on the up and up as far as labels go, right on that tipping point between living for the fans and living for the business. I couldn’t care less. Just want the job to be over. For today to be over.
I pull out my phone to distract myself, but there’s no fucking service back here. It’s like the universe is telling me that I have to sit in it.
Fuck the universe.
Through the fuzz of guitar and triplets on the drums, I hear the metallic clank of the stage flying open. One of the security guards on the circuit, Alan, gives me a nod. I’m needed. Thank god, because I need something to take my mind off things. Even if it is some rabid backstage drama.
I push myself up off the road case, straighten out my jacket, and head over to Alan. “What’s up?”
“Someone’s asking for you.”
I frown. “What?”
“Thought she was a disgruntled fan, but she’s asking for you. Maybe she’s a disgruntled fan of yours ?”
The muscles across my torso tighten. “What’s she look like?”
“Glasses. Curly hair.”
I push past Alan to the door, rip it open, and find Eleanor flanked by two other security guards who are inches away from grabbing her and dragging her down the alley.
“I swear, I’m not a creep or anything, I’m just trying to see—”
“Guys, it’s fine,” I call off the guards.
Eleanor’s gaze shoots to me.
My brain can’t decide if I’m happy to see her. I want to be overjoyed, bouncing off the walls. But I’ve already started grieving what feels like an inevitability. So, I don’t smile. And I don’t glare. I just look at her.
“She’s with me,” I say. “Thanks.”
“She isn’t on the list,” Alan says from over my shoulder.
“Yeah, I forgot. I’m sorry.”
All the guys exchange a look, clearly peeved with me. Whatever. Add it to the list of grievances I have with the world.
I go toward Eleanor while the three of them post back up near the door.
“Can we talk?” she asks.
I push my tongue into my cheek and nod. Talking will be too painful until I know where she’s going with this.
Eleanor’s brow laces together. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
“’S’okay,” I manage. “You were just . . . feeling how you felt.” I cross my arms over my chest to prevent my heart from falling to the fucking ground. “You should have warned me that you were coming, though.”
“I texted,” she says haplessly.
I remember there’s no service backstage, but I say nothing.
“The last thing I want to do is hurt you, Luke,” she says.
Here it comes. The letdown. I brace for it.
“I’m scared. We know this. Seems to be a baseline for me,” she says with a half-smile. “But that’s not a good excuse to not go for what I want.”
I ignore the flutter of hope in my belly. What’s she talking about?
She reaches into her bag of magic tricks and fishes out a set of keys, a set I know not to be hers.
“What are those?” I ask. I can’t get excited until I know. I won’t be let down again.
“Keys to my new place.”
My lips part. What do I say? What do I even do?
“I signed the lease after work.”
Say it. Please just say it.
Eleanor’s eyes twinkle in mine. “I’m staying.”
The dam holding back the possible joy breaks. I wrap my arms around her, lift her into the air, and spin her around.
Eleanor lets out a gleeful laugh, throwing her arms around my neck, holding on for dear life.
“Tell me you’re not kidding,” I say urgently. “Tell me this isn’t a fucking dream.”
Eleanor frames my face in her hands. The cool metal of the keys brushes my skin.
No dream could feel this real.
“I’m staying, Luke.”
I brush a hand through her hair. I don’t know what to say. I’m overwhelmed with a torrent of hopes and dreams, of memories, of fears. Every pent-up feeling I had when I considered her leaving Austin happens all at once. “Oh, Nor . . .” I don’t have anything good to say, so I kiss her. Deep and unfettered. The way I imagined I might earlier today when I thought I might be her hero. Better late than never.
Eleanor sighs into me, her beautiful body sinking into mine. Her lips split from mine. “I take it you’re happy?”
“Was that not obvious?” I ask.
We both laugh, unwilling to draw away even an inch.
“Are you happy?”
Eleanor is quiet for a few moments, then nods. “Yeah. I’m really, really happy.”
“Good. Good, that’s what matters.”
I finally set her back down on the ground, but I keep my arms around her. If I let her go, I’m afraid she might run back to whatever future she thought about in Chicago.
“I’m sorry, I know you’re working—”
“Don’t be sorry, I’m glad you came. I’m so fucking glad you came. You have no idea.”
Eleanor grips my sides. “I’m so sorry about earlier, I—”
“Don’t be sorry. No time for sorry. Not anymore.”
She’s beaming, a smile that goes ear to ear. There’s no doubt in my mind she’s made the right choice. For her .
“When do you move in?” I ask.
Eleanor rolls her eyes. “The lease starts tomorrow .”
“But the apartment with the museum—”
“I know, but to lock it down I had to start as soon as possible.”
Randy was right about landlords. Of course he switched the deal on Eleanor. “Well, I’ll cover the rent until you move out of the—”
“You will fucking not do that, Luke Wyatt,” she says, smacking me in the chest. “This is my choice. My apartment. I’m doing this.”
I’m prone to argue against the woman paying for anything, but I'll support whatever she wants. “Fine. As much as I hate it . . . fine.” I take her head in my hands and kiss her forehead. Sweet, sweet Eleanor. “Look, I’ve got to get back to the gig. You can stay if you want.”
“I’d like that,” she says.
“And after we can go out or get something to eat or—”
“I have a better idea,” she interrupts, a mischievous look in her eye.
I raise an eyebrow.
Eleanor lifts her keys in the air and jangles them.