“You’re welcome,” he said with shy modesty, finally accepting my gratitude.
“And how was Devlin’s today? Really?” I pushed because it felt like there was something he didn’t say with his mom around.
“It went fine. Cath is almost perfect.”
“And?”
He narrowed his eyes in thought. “I’m still thinking about that. Something is holding her back, but I need to figure out what.”
I nodded. “I agree. I couldn’t figure it out either. I think she’s already good enough to get into most schools.”
“But she needs something extra to get into Berklee,” he finished.
“Exactly.” I stepped closer until I leaned on the island across from him. Even though we had a few feet between us, our toes were almost touching. “And Devlin’s place sounds cool.”
“Very cool.”
“Was anybody else there?” I asked.
He raised an eyebrow. “Word is out about The Burnouts, I take it?”
“Clara told me. How come you didn’t mention it?”
“Didn’t really think about it.” He was short and lying to me. I hadn’t realized how much I took Leo’s openness for granted until seeing him lie to me cut deeper than I thought it would.
“It can’t be easy seeing them,” I said.
“I’m hoping that I won’t,” he said sharply.
“Did things end that badly?”
“Why are you pushing this, Mari?” He laughed it off, but it sounded dry and sarcastic.
“I’m sorry.” I was doing it again. Inserting myself, pushing him. “You just seem upset. I thought maybe you wanted to talk about it.” I risked a glance at him to find his gaze on my legs. When he noticed me, he glared at the ground instead.
“I got myself fired. How could that be anything other than bad?” He scrubbed at his eyes. “Touring with my best friend was all I ever wanted, and I screwed it up. But more than that, I ruined the best friendship I ever had,” he confessed.
A familiar pain I felt in myself was reflected in him. I longed to hold him. “You haven’t spoken at all?”
He shook his head. “I made sure of that.”
There didn’t feel like there was anything I could say to help. He seemed so lost and alone. Like how I was when there was a break in work and I had nothing to distract me.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated. Why had I pushed him? Why did I wish so hard that he would share with me? What was my hope?
“No. I am.” He sighed, and his shoulders dropped. “I’m exhausted, but can’t sleep, and that pisses me off.”
“This is you pissed off?” I came to his side and nudged him with his elbow. “Trust me, as someone with anger issues, this is nothing.”
“Too bad the Rage Room isn’t open right now,” he said.
He tried to laugh, but his shoulders slumped. This wasn’t smash-up-things anger, though. This may not be anger at all. Hurt and sadness rolled off him.
To go from a life of such excitement and glamour, living his dreams every day, to hiding out in the town that he ran away from, no wonder he seemed so lost. No wonder he hated walking around this place, seeing what must feel like constant reminders of his supposed shortcomings and what he ruined.
I’d been so selfish to push him for my own agenda. It was never about him being too good for this town. He tried to tell me that so many times, but I couldn’t see his hurt past my own. I was the Hector Projector here.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated.
