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Let me hold you
Lift you from the ground
I won’t hurt you
Any more than life has—
I look over and I see that Eden has turned around and is trying to shoulder her way out of the small crowd. I can see her cheeks flushed and her hair coming out of its braid as if she’s been struggling to get out for a few minutes already. Her eyes are luminous with tears. I stop dead, the lyrics unfinished on my lips.
I jump down from the stage and run after her.
“Eden!” I scream as soon as we’re away from the crowd. “Eden, stop.” My voice shatters. “Why are you leaving?”
I catch up to her; she’s full-on running at this point, but I slide in front of her, cutting her off.
“Isaiah…”
The way she stumbles over my name, her tongue hesitating on the consonants, her voice shaking at the end, is so cute my knees nearly buckle. I reach an arm out to steady myself, but there’s nothing there.
“What is it? Tell me. No, don’t leave.”
She’s turning around, trying to escape. Hiding her eyes from me. I’ve already seen that she’s crying, and I’m trying not to panic.
“Please, Eden.”
I’m begging here, when I should be the first one turning around to leave. I’ve avoided talking to her for weeks, and I shouldn’t be doing this right now. I shouldn’t be leaving my own rehearsal mid-song, I shouldn’t be running after her. All of it, a huge mistake. I can’t talk to her. I can’t be alone with her. I’ll do and say stupid things, I know I will. But now, she’s standing in front of me, Jude’s singing ofLittle Bird’s chorus a distant sound in the back, and I can’t tear my eyes away from her.
Within seconds, I’m surrounded by bodyguards.This is it, I think.I’m going to lose her. By the time I ask them to step away, she’ll have made her escape.But, once more, she surprises me.
“Can… Can I talk to Isaiah for a second?” she asks them.
“You can,” I reply. The guys move a few feet away. Eden takes a deep breath.
“That song,Little Bird,” she starts. I shut my eyes—it physically hurts to talk to her about this song. Out of all my songs,thisis the one she wants to talk about?
“What about it?” I ask her.
She bites her lip. I cross my arms.
“It reminds me of myself,” she says slowly. I’m undone. “That’s exactly how I felt as a kid. Too scared, too little, too… too wrong to fit anywhere. It reminds me of myself so much.”
She closes her eyes, and looks like she’s about to pass out or cry. Or both.
“I sure hope it does,” I reply with a sad smirk. “I wrote it for you.”
It comes out effortlessly and without regret, but I don’t notice her expression until after I’ve said it. Surely she must have known the minute she heard it. Didn’t she?
She opens her eyes and they are raw, wet with tears.
“You didn’t know?” I ask her, suddenly shaking all over. My fingers are cold and I try to grab the wall for support, but they slide off. “The whole world must know, I thought. I split my heart in two and offered it up for them to see. I hoped somehowyouwould see. I didn’t care about anyone else.”
She just looks at me, tears spilling down her cheeks. I lift my hand and wipe one off. More fall. Her tears are warm on my cold hands.
“I heard the song,” she whispers. “I heard it, I loved it, but I…”
“You didn’t know?” I ask again, more quietly.
She shakes her head. “Are there more?”
