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A road that will lead him far, far away from me.
“Mmm,” I say noncommittally because I don’t know how else to answer without sounding stupid or clingy. He has to leave me behind—my mom would never allow me to drop out of school and go with him—and he has to get out of here, out of this town where everyone looks at him with pity, where everyone knows about his mom and his dad and expects Riggs to end up just like him.
A washed-up daydreamer in a dead-end town.
But I don’t have to come up with a better answer when the truck bumps a few more times before he puts it into park.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go write.”
The only thing I love more than writing songs with Riggins late at night is lying under the stars with him. It’s something we did long before we started writing before his mom died, and before his dad started drinking, back when our parents were still friends and would spend summer nights together, grilling and having a few drinks in one of our backyards.
Evie, Riggs, and I would wander just far enough so our parents couldn’t hear us talking, lay in the grass, and watch the stars move.
It’s because you got the cool name, Everest would say. That’s why you love the stars. All I got was a big mountain people die on. I never argued because of the two of us, I always thought my name was the coolest. Riggs also never argued that fact, and after a lifetime of everyone comparing me to Evie and me coming up short, I kind of liked his quiet agreement.
We’d lay there all night, chatting about silly things like TV shows and movies and whatever was happening at school while our parents hung out. Even though he’s just barely two years older, he never made me feel like it was a chore to hang out with us, even though I’m sure he was told to watch us rather than play with us.
“You’re my best friend, you know,” Riggs says under his breath as we lay on the big blanket we keep in his truck, staring at those same stars we watched back then. The same stars I hope we’ll still watch together ten, twenty years from now.
“I know, Riggs. You’re mine, too.” Another beat of silence passes.
“You’ll go with me, right?” I don’t reply, not sure what he means. Or, to be clear, I didn’t know if what I hoped he meant was what he actually meant. “On tour, once you’re out of school,” he clarifies.
My pulse races, but I don’t answer.
“I need you with me. I can’t do it without you, Stell.”
“You can do anything you want, Riggs. You don’t need anyone. You’re… you’re you.”
“Fine,” he says, correcting, reaching down to where my hand lays on the blanket, grabbing it and twining our fingers together. “I don’t want to do it without you.” A long beat passes as I concentrate on nothing but Riggins’ hand in mine and pray my palms don’t feel sweaty. “I don’t want to do anything without you, little star,” he says, using the name he started using back when we were little kids in the grass.
There’s no question in my mind when I answer.
“Yeah, Riggs. I’ll go with you,” I whisper, and the words feel huge when I speak them out loud.
He doesn’t respond, instead lifting our joined hands and pressing the back of mine to his lips.
Even though it probably doesn’t count, I catalog it as the first time Riggins kissed me.
3 FALSE CONFIDENCE
NOW
STELLA
“What are you talking about?” I ask Riggins, the world spinning around me in a way that makes my stomach turn and my head feel light.
“You were always smarter than me, Stella. Don’t pretend that’s changed.”
I stare for what feels like an eternity; the only thing grounding me is the dog I’m holding onto, my fingers buried deep into her fur.
“You never told me,” he says, hurt flashing in his eyes.
I wonder if he can see the hurt reflected in mine or maybe the rage brewing even deeper.
“Most men don’t have to be told they got married, and most brides don’t have to remind their grooms.” He stares at me instead of responding because, really, how do you respond to that?
You don’t. You can’t.
