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“Ah. It’s curious that they wouldn’t give the girl Shane’s last name.”
Jace smiles uncomfortably. He must be confused by my insistence to keep talking about random things, not what’s really on our minds. “He hates his. The only reason he’s keeping it is because he started Project Viper with that name. He doesn’t want to confuse his fans. His father pretty much abandoned him and Graham, so Shane doesn’t want to honor him in any way.”
“Hm,” I say. That’s a lot of history. “You’re not working with Shane anymore, I take it?”
“If I say I am, will you be so horribly disappointed?”
I shrug and look aside, pretending to watch the city. “Did you all resolve your differences, then?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good to hear.” I am quite impressed. He did it. He fixed everything. Almost everything. What’s left, though, he can’t fix alone.
The hat shades his upper face, but the light from the signs reaches his blue eyes and ignites an intense glow. “How do you feel about the tour?”
“I still hate the stage,” I grumble.
He gives out a cunning chuckle. “Yes. I’ve seen how much you ‘hate’ it. You even help your dad smash guitars.”
Ah, yes. Dad and I have a new trick now—he throws his guitar and I catch it and punch in the very last chord of the show before I thrash it. The whole thing has been one of the few highlights of the tour. If I’m honest with myself, though, there have been many.
“Jace… Jace, Jace, Jace. I don’t want to talk about music with you. Or Shane and Juliette.”
“What do you want to talk about?” His voice dips low, and his eyes lose all earlier playfulness. They’re full of intent and anticipation.
“I… I…” None of the statements and accusations I wanted to say to him will come out of my mouth. I’ve been better. Braver. Stronger. But right now I’m none of those things. Even though he’s here with me. Even though he was the one to help me take the first step.
“You promised you wouldn’t cry over me,” Jace rasps.
“I’m not. Besides, you promised me nothing. You made no commitments to me, so I have no obligation to keep any promises I gave you.”
Jace lifts one hand to my cheek. “You are crying.”
“It’s the snow.” I attempt to step away, but he refuses to give me even two inches. “Let go.” My head swims, and I need to breathe.
“I can’t.” He locks my gaze into the whirlpool of his icy eyes. “I’ll die.”
“Then we’ll be even.” I clench my teeth and shut my eyes and stand motionless as his hand slides to the back of my head and his lips brand a kiss on my temple, sending a rush of goosebumps over me. The contrast of his warm breath against the chill of the night renders me senseless. Even without knowing where this conversation is going, every thread of my being comes to life, shriveled roots finally drinking in the long-awaited rain.
“You were the one to leave.” I drop my forehead to his solid shoulder. “You think I waited for you to come to your senses or something?”
There we go! There’s my righteous anger.
“I hope so,” Jace whispers in my ear.
“I told you I loved you, and you—”
“Never told you I love you back. Please forgive me. I do. I love you, Laurel.”
I didn’t notice it back in that moment when I admitted my feelings to him for the first time, but now that he mentions it, he’s right. He never told me that he loved me.
But he’s saying it now.
Doubts lasso me tight, vines of thorns that fill me with pitch-black despair. What if the only reason Jace is saying all these things to me is because Dad ordered him to make up with me?
Dad wouldn’t. He’s not that kind of a person. And nobody can make Jace do anything. He can win any stubbornness contest, but he’s honest. If he says he loves me, he means it.
He means it.
