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I guess they found Gary.
Instead of waving to get his attention, Libby watched him.
He smiled and winked more at one girl than the others.
When someone dressed in black and wearing a headset slid up next to him, Davis started saying his goodbyes. Impressed by his restraint in overtly hitting on the fan, Libby started toward him to catch him before he was called to the stage.
As she closed in, Davis pulled his cell out of his pocket and moved closer to the blonde. The act stopped Libby dead in her tracks, not because she cared that he was getting the girl’s number, though it stung just a tiny bit, but because for a moment she’d thought he’d changed. Grown up. But he was the same selfish egotist who couldn’t be bothered to take care of her long enough to get her in the door.
Davis leaned forward to whisper something in the girl’s ear when he did a double take at her. “Eli! You made it!” he shouted as his lips broadened into a wide smile. “Come on, you can stand here while I’m on stage. The best seat in the house. Well, spot to stand in,” he joked as he beckoned her closer while Earpiece was begging him to get going.
Libby was rooted in place. In that moment she was aware of the ache in her uncomfortably wet feet. The rumble in her mostly empty stomach. And, most importantly, her desire to do anything other than stand in one spot and pretend to like Davis’ shitty music. She’d done enough of that for two lifetimes.
“I’ll see you after the set!” he shouted, already walking away with his bandmates. “Remember, number three is for you, babe!”
When he was gone, Libby turned on her heels and walked away from the biggest mistake she almost made. In all the years they’d been together, she’d chased Davis everywhere.
It had been an exhausting endeavor. Always trying to stay interesting and alluring and putting his needs and wants so far ahead of hers that when she finally stood her ground and said she had to focus on the family business, he bailed. He’d never wanted a partner. He wanted an assistant and a world’s biggest fan. She’d been both for too long.
“Excuse me, miss, are you supposed to be back here?” a woman asked just as the band started to play and the crowd cheered.
Libby smiled. “Not in the least,” she replied with complete confidence before continuing toward the exit.
As satisfying as closing a chapter was, discovering that the pouring rain had returned was much less thrilling. She glanced back at the venue before looking at the rain. She thought of something her grandmother always said when she complained about getting wet. Her grandma was right.
She wasn’t sugar. She wasn’t going to melt. The monsoon was better than listening to some generic song Davis definitely didn’t write about her.
Cold rain pounded Libby’s face like a thousand frozen needles. At first she tried to run and shield her face with her hands, but as her skin numbed and it became harder to see,
she decided that breaking her ankle wasn’t worth it. With each step, Libby felt freer. It was like the heavens had opened just to cleanse her of all the old energy holding her down.
By the time she reached her car, completely drenched from head to toe, she might have been light enough to laugh.
If there wasn’t a giant tra c-cone-orange boot on her SUV’s front wheel, that is.
“Seriously?” She yelled at the thing as if it might have something to say for itself.
Ripping the plastic wrapped ticket out from under her windshield wiper, Libby sloshed into her car and out of the rain. When she tore open the orange envelop holding the citation, she closed her eyes.
“Yeah, that’s about right,” she decided aloud after reading that she’d been booted for illegal parking. After indulging in a moment of self-pity, Libby glared at the handwritten note prominently displayed on her dashboard.
The one that was supposed to protect her. She should have known Davis’ words were just as worthless on paper as they were coming out of his mouth.
Accepting that her stupidity had rightfully cost her however much the tow company was going to charge to take the boot o , Libby reached for her phone and called the number on the ticket. After an alarmingly unpleasant conversation with someone uninterested in providing her with decent customer service, Libby learned that a combination of the weather and a busy night meant it would be a few hours before anyone could come out and take the stupid thing o . Libby’s argument that she couldn’t have been away from her car for more than fifteen minutes so the person who put it on couldn’t have gotten very far resulted in a very rude response, and likely another hour added to her wait time.
Shivering from the cold seeping into her bones, Libby debated calling someone for help. A rideshare wouldn’t be able to get in the lot, her family lived way too far from downtown, and the only friend she’d ever ask such a big favor from was Zena. Though Libby guessed she might arrive from Houston before the tow truck did.
Libby opened her last message from Reagan. Would she come rescue her in the rain? The thought made her stomach flutter. She wanted the answer to be yes, but she didn’t dare ask. After mauling her and then avoiding her for a day, Libby would never reach for her kindness. She certainly didn’t deserve it.
After twenty minutes of indecisive waiting, Libby decided on walking in the rain to the above-ground metro station. It would only be a little farther than where she’d step out to meet a rideshare, and that way she didn’t have to ruin someone’s car with her soaking wet clothes.
The lightness of seeing Davis for the loser he was, and realizing that she no longer felt a single thing for him, was gone. In its place was the backbreaking regret of what she’d done to Reagan out of her own stupid fear.
As she walked toward the station under the consistent drizzle, Libby felt more alone than ever. She was lost and confused. By the time she made it to the station and into the Metrorail car, she was more concerned with silencing the voice in her head than with the air conditioning freezing her soaked body. She wrapped her arms around herself to stop the violent trembling.
In the minutes long walk, the voice had gone from a questioning whisper to a screaming demand. It was the truth she’d been avoiding for months. And it was petrifying.
C H A P T E R 2 3
