Chapter 31
SUMMER
Come on, come on, come on. Pick up.
There’s an erratic bounce to my knee that keeps knocking into the steering wheel while I drive. Why isn’t he answering?
I didn’t debate calling. In my mind, this constitutes an emergency.
“Hello?” a voice finally shouts through the speaker.
I hold the phone closer to my face. Why? Because I’m no longer thinking rationally.
“Todd? It’s Summer, Everett’s—” Would he want me to say girlfriend? He did tell me he loves me right before he left. Minutes after I told him I wouldn’t move with him though. “—nanny,” I finish, to be safe.
“Oh, hey, Summer!”
“Hi! Yeah. I was wondering if I could speak to Everett. It’s kind of an emergency.”
“Sorry, he’s in sound check right now. There’s a lot of moving parts in tonight’s production, and we haven’t had a lot of time to rehearse the set. But I could have him call you after the show?”
“NO! I mean, no. That’s okay.”
Shit. I switch to Plan B with new information.
I stop at the red light and drop the phone back to eye level to type Delta into the web browser. Ten seconds later I’m thumbing through flights.
“Actually, could you do me a favor? I need a ticket to tonight’s show.”
“Refresh it again,” Julia says.
I tap the blue go button and the information on the page repopulates. The same political updates as before load on the screen, but nothing about Rhett Dawson.
“Again.”
I glance at the driver’s seat. She’s smirking at the line of cars in the departure lane. “What? Something might have popped up in the last three seconds.”
“You’re not helping my anxiety.”
I’ve told myself at least a dozen different stories on our drive to the airport.
The one where Brian shares Everett’s private diagnosis with a tabloid is right up there with What if I’m too late?
and What if Everett hates me after this?
Both of which I must have muttered out loud because Julia responds.
“He told you he loved you. He won’t hate you.”
I hope she’s right. She’s basing all her validation on my distracted rant of the last forty-eight hours while I simultaneously purchased a one-way ticket on a five o’clock flight.
Excuse me if I don’t hang my hat on the three words the man said long before hearing how my vindictive ex-husband could wreak havoc on his life.
I could be too late by the time I get there.
I spam the web browser again. Nothing. Yet.
Julia parks against the curb, and I hand her one of two envelopes I acquired on my way over to her house.
I keep the one for unexpected tips tucked in my purse.
Old me would have never stopped at a bank after making this plan.
I would have decided with a credit card in hand and left, to hell with the consequences.
Now I think about the impact my decisions have on others.
I wouldn’t be doing this if I had any other way to warn Everett.
“What’s this for?”
“For a place to stay when I needed one.”
She flips up the flap on the back, exposing the cash inside, and shakes her head. Then she slides it in the side pocket of my bag. “My home is your home. You know that.”
I pull it out again and shove it in her glove box.
She rolls her eyes. “If you need a place to stay when you get back—”
I stop her with a hand on her thigh and squeeze. “No matter what, I have enough to get my own place now. But thank you. I couldn’t have survived without your support.”
She leans across the seat, wrapping her arms around me. “You never needed me. I needed you. That’s who you are, Sum. Someone the people you love can count on.”
Between the thirty-minute layover for maintenance repairs and Denver traffic to Empower Field at Mile High, I’m cutting it close.
I called Everett’s manager again, warning him of my arrival time.
Blabbing on about surprising my boss thanks to those glasses of wine on the flight instead of the emergent situation I intend to discuss with the guy I love.
Todd doesn’t know about Everett’s disability. If he did, I wouldn’t be waltzing up to an outdoor stadium in a different state when I could have warned his manager about Brian’s tabloid threat over the phone.
Todd meets me at an unmarked service entrance I located from the map he texted. “It’s good to see you again.”
Winded from my sprint, I pant, “Thanks… for doing… this.”
I breeze past him as he leans against the metal door.
“You should know, he doesn’t have a lot of time.”
“I’ll make it quick,” I say, keeping up with his swift strides until we reach a white door.
I skip tapping on it and push it open. Everett’s dressing room is three times the size of the ones I’ve seen in the movies.
He’s turned away from me, reclined in a chair in front of a mirror.
I stand there for a moment, admiring the way his shirt stretches tightly across the broad expanse of his shoulders.
It’s short-sleeved, the temperature so much different than the last time he played a concert.
The room is empty and silent, nothing around to distract him but me as I choke out his name. “Everett?”
He jolts out of his chair and spins around. “Summer? What are you doing here? Where’s Quinn?”
“She’s okay. She’s with Caroline.” I leave out the part where she’s sick. If seeing me has him this rattled, knowing that information would only serve to worry him more.
He eats up the space between us, grabbing my forearms. “What’s going on?”
“I just—” I blow out a breath, wishing he wasn’t touching me so I could stuff my hands in the back pockets of my jeans to give them something to do other than shake in his grasp. “I needed to talk to you.”
“It couldn’t wait? I told you that you could reach me through Todd. You didn’t have to fly to another state to do it.”
“I know. I wouldn’t have if…” I should have prepared something more to say. Getting this out is harder than I imagined. “Todd doesn’t know about this though, and it wasn’t my place to tell him.”
“He doesn’t know about what?”
“Brian. He…”
“What did he do to you?” He brushes the hair out of my face and examines the forehead it was hiding. My arms, my chest, any exposed skin he can find he checks.
“No. He didn’t do anything to me. He… knows, Everett. He saw it in Quinn’s file at school, and he threatened to tell the tabloids. I didn’t know what else to do.”
His hands lift to thread through his hair, and he turns his back to me. He marches away so quickly that when I reach for him, my hands touch empty air. I twist them in front of my lap.
Desperation forces me to take a step forward. “I didn’t want you to be blindsided if he did anything.”
He flips around. “So, you ambushed me yourself right before I’m about to go on stage? Summer, you couldn’t have picked a worse time!”
He’s pacing now, fists clenched at his sides. I knew there was a chance I’d regret coming here. That I was acting on impulse. I didn’t ask Julia’s advice this time. I felt confident Everett would want to control this narrative. Now I’m not so sure about any of it.
“You’re right. I… I should have waited. I’m—”
A boom vibrates through the walls and rattles the door. Everett palms his hat off the counter. He fits it to the crown of his head before looking at me. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, or if he’s going to be okay.
“We’ll talk about this after the show. I’ve gotta go.”
I reach for his hand when he brushes by me. Our fingers touch but never tangle. By the time I turn around, I’m whispering to an empty room, “… so sorry.”