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It was raining. Of course it was raining. My whole world was about to freaking explode, and we wouldn’t want the sun shining down on that, now would we? Nope. Just doom and gloom.
I wiped at my eyes and tried to see past the gray mist, but it was no use. Where was he?
By the time I reached the opposite side of the street, the crowd had thinned a bit, and I turned in a full circle, eyes darting everywhere, but again I came up with nothing. How can someone vanish like that? He was nowhere. And maybe he’d never been. Maybe I was crazy. Maybe I was like the crazy lady who sat at the park sometimes, talking to ghosts that only she could see.
Maybe I hadn’t seen him leaning toward another person. Maybe I hadn’t seen his arm around that someone else. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
“Hey, Everly. Hold up.”
Trevor strode toward me, cutting through the crowd, his eyes heavy with concern. I saw it there, and it made me more emotional than I already was. This was all so wrong and not the way I’d thought our night would be. Why had we come here?
“Everly, what’s wrong?”
I shrugged, a small pathetic sort of thing, but I knew that if I tried to talk, I’d start to cry. Emotional crier. That was me. My throat was so plugged that I knew it would be a big ugly cry too, the kind that you don’t want the guy you’re hung up on to see.
Trevor’s arms slid around my shoulders, and the next thing I knew, my nose was pressed up against his shoulder.
His T-shirt was damp from the rain, but his skin was warm and I felt his heat through the fabric. It felt so good to just be there, in his arms, taking in his warmth and strength. I don’t know how long we stood there, the two of us entangled in each other’s arms, but I do know that when I finally pulled away, my face was wet and it wasn’t from his clothes.
“Can we just walk?” I managed to say.
His hand engulfed mine, and we followed the crowd toward the Mississippi where there were supposed to be fireworks. Fireworks that I’d been looking forward to. Fireworks I no longer cared about.
Where was he?
I craned my neck, eyes searching and searching. I suppose I should have asked myself what I was going to do if I actually ran into him, but at the moment, I wasn’t doing the question thing. I was just doing. I was reacting.
“Everly.”
I was reacting badly, because I knew that I was going to cry again. Dammit.
“Hey.” Trevor’s hand was underneath my chin. “What’s going on? Why is the sad girl back? What happened?”
I stared up into eyes that I could lose myself in. Eyes that made me believe I could finally unload some of the burden. Did I do it? Did I trust Trevor with my secret? I exhaled and lowered my gaze, staring at the stubble on his chin. It was easier than the eyes. So much easier.
And eventually my heart slowed enough for me to speak.
“There’s been stuff going on at home.” My eyes squeezed shut on their own, and I saw it again. The back of his head. The way he tilted to the left when he was listening. His familiar shoulders. His favorite blue shirt.
All the pain and anger and disappointment that had filled me for the last year threatened to come crashing down like tidal waves slamming against the rocks. It was big and painful and raw, and I knew that if I let it take over, I would break down completely. Right here in Baton Rouge on the Fourth of July.
Awesome.
So I fought it. I fought it with every scrap of strength that I had, and finally I managed to get some more words out, but none of them made any sense.
“Things with my parents. I heard a phone call. My mom, she took pills, and my dad is lying to all of us.” Trevor squeezed my hand but remained silent. “I thought I saw him here with someone.” My voice faded to almost a whisper. “Someone who isn’t my mom, because my mom’s in another state, visiting my uncle.”
We were just inside the alley, so the noise from the street was muted a bit, but my heart was still pounding so hard that it didn’t matter. Everything was loud and noisy. Everything hurt. My heart hurt.
“Maybe it wasn’t him,” Trevor finally said, sliding his arms around me again. “Everly, there’s, like, thousands of people here. You might have seen someone who looks like your dad.”
Doubt crashed in hard. Maybe Trevor was right. Dad was always going to New Orleans, not Baton Rouge. Maybe I was just seeing things because I wanted to see them. Broadcasting or whatever they called it.
“Can we just keep walking?” I asked.
“Sure.” Trevor’s hand slid back to mine. “Whatever you want.”
We continued down the street and eventually ended up near the banks of the Mississippi. I kept glancing around, my eyes constantly searching, but I didn’t see my father. Was I relieved? Kind of. Disappointed? Not sure. Probably a bit of both.
