Something about the way he said it—low and casual like he hadn’t even meant to charm her—made her pulse spike in her throat.
Without another word, Nora turned away and waded back into the sea of strangers. Her heart pounding louder than the music, sharper than the sunlight bouncing off the Coca-Cola label.
Of all the boys she’d met in high school—yearbook committee boys, football players and honor society boys, and the boy who’d kissed her at junior prom with a mouth full of ginger ale—none of them hadmade her feel this way. Like she was the interesting one. Like someone had seen inside of her, not past her.
Joe the Journalist.
The name stuck in her mind like the hook of a song. She didn’t turn around to see if he was watching her go. But she hoped he was. And she couldn’t help but wonder…
Would she see him again?
Part TwoMile High Riff
Summer 1969
Chapter Thirteen
“Eleanor?”
Her eyelids fluttered at the sound of her name.
Sitting cross-legged on the grass, Roxy curled in her lap like a warm little snuggle bug, Eleanor had drifted somewhere else—halfway between memory and music. The bodies swaying around her were moving like waves, smoke curling in the air, the sun smudged behind a veil of cigarette haze. The music was loud, something bluesy and familiar, but it came in muffled—like hearing through water.
She looked down and noticed her cigarette—burned halfway through, the ash long and curling like a gray snake. One wrong move, and it would tumble onto her skirt.
“Eleanor?” the voice called again, closer now.
She squinted up, half blinded by the sun.
A man stood over her, body haloed in golden light. His face was flushed, and he looked a little breathless, smiling at her in that startled, unbelieving way—like he’d found something precious he thought he’d lost.
There was something so familiar about him. The curve of his jaw. That thick, unruly hair. The bow-shaped lips.
“Is it really you?” Eleanor wiped her eyes. “Jet?” she asked softly.
A name she hadn’t spoken aloud in decades. Jet was the boy she’d met one summer at a music festival near her hometown. The way he’d played the banjo had been soul exposing, and the way he’d kissed her had been a high note. They’d sung together onstage once—just once—before she’d gone back to her last year of high school and he went wherever boys like him went…everywhere.
“Jet’s my uncle,” he said, laughing. “Did you know him? Wouldn’t that be something. He was a great musician.”
Eleanor wrinkled her brow at the sound of his voice. Husky, deep, and sensual. But different. Memories unfolded in her mind like a movie reel. Jet’s face blurred in the recesses, fading out. Uncle? What was he talking about?
She stared at the man in front of her, a buzz of unease under her ribs.
He extended a hand.
She hesitated, then slowly unwrapped Roxy’s leash from her wrist and placed her hand in his palm. Roxy squirmed a little as Eleanor set her gently on the ground.
With a gentle tug, he pulled her to stand on uncertain legs. Their hands lingered for just a fraction longer than friends’ would before he let go.
The man—she wasn’t convinced he was Jet anymore, as he looked a bit older than she first thought—let out a low whistle. “That performance of yours was impressive, Ellie.”
Ellie.She hadn’t been called that in years.
“You’ve seen me do it a thousand times.” The words slipped out before she realized what she was saying.
The man beside her looked puzzled, his head cocking to the side,brows drawn together, mouth opening just slightly. There was no recognition in his eyes. Just confusion. And now concern.
And that’s when she knew for certain.
