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Deep breath.

As quickly as I can, I turn and make my way to the exit.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Violet

The hotel is around the corner from the bar, but I don't want to be there. After spending twelve hours on a bus, I want to be outside.

I take in the quiet conversations as I walk. There's a family celebrating a birthday at a diner. There are two women at a coffee shop, trading gossip over oversized mugs of tea. There's another bar with country music blaring.

The empty grass field just past the church calls my name. Even though it's freezing, I lay on my back and stare up at the dark sky. The silver moon hangs low. The stars shine bright. There are so many stars, more than I've ever seen before.

In New York, there's so much light pollution that I can't see the stars. Here, they're bright and brilliant. I catch a shooting star, press my eyelids together, and wish for clarity.

It's quiet here. The only sound is the breeze rustling the grass and the roar of a TV across the street. Every few minutes, I can hear footsteps or a passing car.

There are footsteps now. And they're getting louder, getting closer.

I don't have to look up to know that's Ethan. I can feel it in the way the air gets sharp and electric.

He lays on the ground next to me. "Hey."

"Hey."

"You're avoiding me, aren't you?"

Yes, but I'm not ready to admit it. "Did you and Mal talk?"

"Not really. There's no talking sense to Mal. He's wants to protect the band."

"And you."

"Yeah." Ethan runs his fingers over the back of my hand. "Big brother thing, I guess."

"Yeah." I soak in the warmth of Ethan's touch. It feels good, just being near him. I want more of him, more of this. "Do you think Kit took the money?"

"Maybe. He wasn't a good version of himself when he was using."

"Oh." I press my lips together. "Is it going to be okay, the band?"

"It will be."

"Good. I… I'm glad. You're really good in it. And you're really good together."

His touch gets harder. "Why are you avoiding me, Vi?"

I turn enough to look into Ethan's eyes. His expression is demanding.

I'm hurting him.

My inhale is sharp. My exhale is heavy. Shit. I can't dodge this conversation anymore. Not with the feelings stirring in my stomach. "I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"I'm falling in love with you again."

"That doesn't have to be a problem."

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