Chapter 7
DANI
Tyrell bought me coffee.
That was so sweet of him.
To be honest, when I noticed he was standing in front of me this morning, I nearly bailed. I wasn’t sure I could handle bumping into him twice in less than twenty-four hours, but then those girls were flirting and he got all shy, and it brought back all these sweet memories of him in high school.
He was always being chased by the girls, and he never knew what to do with them.
It was hilarious. Atlas and I would watch him squirming.
Occasionally, he’d manage to flirt back, and he did date a few girls in high school, but never for long.
He’d always find something wrong with them and bail before things got too serious.
I wonder if he’s ever had a girlfriend for more than a month or two.
I wonder if I should ask him.
I wonder if I’ll ever bump into him again.
You have his number now. You could call him. Text him. Meet up?
The thought makes my stomach clench and I blink, focusing back on the guy opposite me.
Yeah, I really should not be letting my mind wander off to Tyrell Territory when I’m on a date with someone else.
Whoops.
Resting my elbow on the table, I prop my chin in my hand and try to focus on Sutton.
He looks really good. I caught an Uber to the restaurant, in case I felt like a drink, and when I arrived, he was waiting outside for me, looking like a cover model in his dark jeans, pale blue Henley shirt, and a brown jacket.
His hair is styled, sweeping across his forehead, and I like his blue eyes.
They’re like so blue. Quite stunning, really.
My gaze drops to his lips as he continues talking.
He’s been going on for a while now, telling me all about his college experience, what he’s studying, what he hopes to do after graduation. He’s managed to arrange a summer internship with some investment company, and man, is he proud of himself.
Giving him a weak smile, I nod, trying to focus on what he’s saying while my mind starts to wander again.
It’s safe to say I’m a little bored. Which is a shame, because this is my first date since Atlas passed away, and I was really hoping for something awesome. But from the moment we sat down, all Sutton has done is talk about himself.
It’s like we’re in a freaking job interview and he’s trying to sell me on all the reasons why I should like him.
Sorry to tell you, Sutton, but it ain’t workin’. You’re boring me to tears.
It’s impossible not to think of Atlas as Sutton starts laughing and launches into a new story about how his mother thinks he’s going to be a multimillionaire by the age of thirty.
Whoop-de-do.
Atlas never cared too much about money.
He was all about the music.
And me.
Damn, he cared a lot about me.
I will never forget our first date. We were nearly fifteen years old, and he took me out for ice cream.
It was all he could afford. He bought us a caramel sundae to share, and we sat opposite each other in a booth.
I was so nervous I wasn’t sure I could eat a bite, but Atlas started asking me questions.
He got me talking, and before I knew it, we were discovering our shared love of music, denim jackets, and fried chicken.
I told him all about my family and he opened up about his dad leaving and how horrible it was.
His mom wouldn’t stop crying, and I couldn’t believe how deep and heavy we’d gotten on our first date.
I held his hand, and he rubbed his thumb over my knuckle. Then he looked at me across the table with his glassy eyes… and I knew I was going to love him for the rest of my life.
I’m not feeling that way about Sutton, and it’s stealing my appetite.
The chicken enchiladas I ordered arrive and smell delicious, but I’m suddenly not hungry.
All I can think about is ice cream melting down the side of the bowl, a betrayed boy who’d just lost his father, and the home he was quickly erecting in my heart.
We were pretty much inseparable after that.
He spent hours at my house—he fell in love with my family. He’d come over all the time, Tyrell often trailing after him, if he wasn’t at football practice.
We’d sit on my bed, Atlas playing his guitar and me singing along.
We’d find harmonies, he’d write lyrics, and I’d imagine a future together.
I wanted to see him succeed and had grand plans of becoming his agent or manager or whatever they called it.
I’d find him gigs and make sure the world knew just how talented he was.
My heart starts pulsing a dull, aching beat, and I snatch up my cutlery, forcing myself to focus on my food… and whatever Sutton is saying about the stock market.
“People are idiots.” He laughs. “They have no idea how to manage money, which is why it’s so important that jobs like the one I’m going to secure exist. I’m helping humanity by looking after the funds they have.
I’m going to make people rich and myself even richer.
” He laughs again, and the sound is grating.
I nod and force myself to say, “Sounds like a good plan.”
“It is, right? I’ve got it all mapped out.”
I raise my eyebrows, spearing a mouthful of enchilada and adding a dollop of sour cream. “That can be dangerous.”
“What?” He looks confused as he scoops rice and beans onto his fork.
“Mapping out your life like that.” I shrug. “You never know what’s going to happen.”
“Yes, I do. I have a plan. I’m sticking to it. I’m in charge of my own destiny.”
“Yeah, but… life can sometimes throw you curveballs. I’m not saying you shouldn’t have a plan, but you seriously never know what’s gonna get you out of the blue. Sometimes you can dream and imagine your future, and the universe will have other ideas.”
He chews his Mexican chicken and rice, studying me while he finishes his mouthful. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, wondering why I wanted his number in the first place. This date does not feel right. He’s about to say something I’m not going to like.
“I think that’s bullshit. Life can try to throw me off course, but I’ll just find another way back onto it.
I hate it when people use ‘the universe’ as an excuse for everything, you know?
We’re our own bosses, and we have to take responsibility for our own actions.
I’m not gonna just sit back and let life happen to me.
I’m gonna happen to life.” He grins, and I don’t know what to say.
Part of me wants to spit out the raw, ugly truth.
Oh yeah, just you wait, buddy. One day, you think you’ve got it all figured out, and the next thing you know, you’re holding your dying boyfriend in your arms.
But this date is taking a shitty turn, and I don’t want to make it worse.
So I just nod and fill my mouth with food so I don’t have to say anything.
And Sutton just goes ahead and keeps on talking.
By the time the waiter clears our plates, I know all about his five-year plan and how brilliant his life is going to be.
“Would you like to see the dessert menu?” the waiter asks.
“No thank you,” I quickly reply before Sutton can.
He gives me a bemused look, then skims his eyes down my body. “You one of those girls who doesn’t eat sugar? My mom’s like that. Counts every calorie. It’s painful.”
“Uh… no.” I shake my head. I just want to wrap up this damn date so I can get out of here! “I’m just full after my meal.”
“But you didn’t even finish it.”
I give him an awkward smile and pat my stomach. “I have a small appetite.”
“Huh.” He nods, wiping his mouth with the napkin. “Well, do you want to just grab the check and go, then?”
Yes!!!
“Sure.” I bob my head, forcing a smile.
Sutton raises his hand, clicking his fingers to get the waiter’s attention.
Irritations sizzles through me, and I can’t even explain why.
“Check, please.” Sutton points at our table, and the waiter nods.
And once again, I’m transported back seven years to that little ice cream parlor in Colorado Springs.
To a sweet boy who had to scrape pennies together in order to buy us a sundae.
We sat for over two hours in that booth, laughing and talking and drinking water, because we couldn’t afford anything more than the ice cream.
He sang me little ditties. It felt like everything I said sparked a song lyric, and I loved every second of it.
Unlike this painful monstrosity.
Seriously.
Why the hell did I ask for Sutton’s number?
Because you didn’t realize that he was a self-absorbed money man. You interacted with him for like five minutes.
“Here you go, sir.” The waiter hands the check to Sutton.
“Thank you.” He grins up at him, then scans the bill before glancing at me. “So, do you want to split this, or are you paying… you know, since you asked me out.”
My lips part, this weird sinking sensation coursing through my body, pulling my stomach down to my knees and lodging my heart in my intestines.
What the fuck?
“Uh…” I blink, trying to get my head around this shit. He’s just sat there telling me how good he is with his money. How rich he is. How his investments are all doing so well. And he can’t even fork out for dinner?
On a first date?
Not to be old-fashioned, but seriously?
I guess I am the kind of girl who wants a little chivalry in her life. The kind of girl who wants to go out with a man who will fucking pay for dinner! Or at least offer to pay!
Snatching the check off him, I rise from the table and murmur, “I’ll pay.”
I should be saying we should split the bill, but I’m so desperate to get out of this that I don’t want to take the time to work out the math.
I’ll just pay.
I’ll use up what’s left of this week’s paycheck on this shitty date, and then I never have to see Sutton “I’m the king of my own fucking universe” again.
“Did you enjoy your meal?” the lovely lady behind the counter asks as I swipe my debit card.
“The food was delicious, thank you.” I smile at her.
Sutton appears behind me, pulling on his jacket and grabbing a mint out of the glass on the counter.
“Enjoy your evening.” The lady smiles.
“Thank you,” I squeak, heading for the door at a fast clip.
Unfortunately, Sutton catches up to me easily. “So, you just gonna head home now, or did you want to do something else?”
“I think I’m gonna go.” I point over my shoulder.
“Where do you live?”
Like I’m going to tell you!
I smile at him, knowing I should be thanking him for the date. But I can’t. I cannot make those words come out of my mouth!
“You seem in a hurry.”
“I…” Giving him an edgy smile, I keep walking backward away from him, needing to create as much distance as possible. “I… just need to get home.”
“Okay, well…” He flicks his hand in the air. “I guess I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah, maybe.” I nod and spin away, riled beyond belief.
He didn’t even thank me for dinner.
What a putz!
Clipping down the sidewalk, I wrap my arms around myself, hunching my shoulders against the cool breeze. It’s April now, but the wind still has a brisk edge to it at this time of night.
I really shouldn’t be walking home by myself in the dark, but I just need a minute.
I’ll order an Uber soon… once I’m a good block away from Sutton.
Ugh!
That date was the worst!
Sudden tears blind me, and I stutter to a stop, blinking in surprise.
“I am not going to cry over that asshole!” I growl.
That’s not why you’re crying.
I sniff, blinking at my stupid tears and letting the sorrow I’ve been holding at bay flood me.
I’m supposed to be moving on with my life—letting Atlas go.
It took so much courage to go on that date, and it was a complete fail!
Swiping a tear off my cheek, I try to swallow past the swelling in my throat. I don’t want to cry. I want to be strong. Brave.
But I just miss him so much.
Everything was so easy with Atlas.
Not always. It got hard in those last couple of years.
I snap my eyes shut, not wanting to think about those tumultuous times.
I just want to focus on the good stuff—our first date, our first kiss, our first time.
I want to remember the hours of singing and laughter and play.
I want to relive those times we’d lie on my bed, our fingers intertwined as we dreamed about our future together.
We had it all mapped out.
And then he went and died.
I curl in on myself, the ache inside me turning to a sharp pain that makes me feel like I’ve been stabbed through the heart.
My knees buckle and I sink down, crouching on the sidewalk in a little ball and no doubt looking ridiculous.
But I can’t move right now.
I can barely breathe.
I should call Tobin or Jed. They can come and get me.
And mop up your tears yet again? Don’t put them through that. Besides, they never really get it anyway.
“Tyrell would,” I whisper, staring down at the dirty concrete beneath me before slowly rising back up.
Tyrell would get it.
And I have his number now.
Pulling out my phone, I unlock it and find his name, gazing at the numbers until they start to blur.
Just call. He won’t mind. He’ll understand.
My thumb hovers over the green circle, and I know I’m right.
He’s the only one who will get just how damn hard it is to move on from a guy like Atlas.