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“Ugh.” So the scene in front of the house must’ve been for show and to remind Jace to behave. No wonder Mom mellowed down so fast.
“Give me your phone.” I stick my hand out, snapping my fingers. Not every thought of mine revolves around Jace. Not completely.
Hal drops his phone into my palm, the screen already displaying what I want to see. But not what I expected. The headlines are sparse, and all of them talk about Jace, not me. I scroll through a handful of fan photos of the chase on Insta. I’m in all of them, but blurry and unrecognizable. A young woman with a mess of red hair peeking out from the hood of her jacket. I feel like I’ve escaped notice until I discover a single alarming thread on Reddit. It’s a picture of Jace flashing a V with his fingers. I’m right behind him, turning to run. No more than half of my face is in view, but my sunglasses have slipped to my nose in that one, revealing my eyes.
Churrokid87bam: We’re focusing on the wrong thing here. Jace is my babe, always and forever, but what’s interesting here is that the girl is none other than the Little Fox. Remember her?
Dang. Some people just know. Ugh.
I scan the comments. “No way.”
A lot of them chew out the original poster for the use of the word “babe” in conjunction with Jace. The rest, one way or another, can be summed up asWho the heck is The Little Fox?
I gape at Hal. “Could it be?” Mom was right and… “People don’t remember me anymore?”
He slides off my bed and takes away his phone. “You can go outside, Laurel. You’re safe now.” Hal pats me on the head and exits the room, leaving me sitting on the floor, stunned and…excited.
But wow, am Itired. I grab onto the edge of my bed, heave myself up, and stare at a guitar case lying on my covers. A capital V and a very snake-like capital G with fangs are embossed on the lid. Glancing at the door, I pop the latches and raise the lid. The guitar I played at Hal’s shop winks at me.
“Hello there, Boyfriend.” Guys tend to call their guitars all kinds of endearments. Baby, Darling, Gorgeous. I’m not immune to the same inclination.
I rush to my walk-in closet, shedding my jacket on the way. Somewhere under the piles of clothes and shoes hides my first amp. I stop in the doorway. Where do I hide the cables? Wait. No. No cables.
First of all, it’s four in the morning. My parents stayed up late. I doubt they’ll appreciate me robbing them of any more sleep. Secondly, grrr. Jace. He awoke the beast inside me that used to love to rock out at all hours of the day. Thirdly, I’m aching all over, so I change into pajama shorts and a tank top and crawl into bed. My velvety sheets embrace me with familiar luxury and comfort, but they can’t compare to the tenderness of Jace’s arms. He’s tall and lean and strong. He makes me feel alive again. It’s possible any guy would after I’ve been cooped up for so long, but I’m certain Jace is the only one with the power to make me laugh so much.
I roll onto my side and tuck my blanket under my chin. What’s left of the night crackles with a quiet rustling sound. Is that the sound of my wings unfurling?
Track 14
Dial 911
Jace
A monotonous, grinding buzz cuts through my sleep. I peel one eyeball open and fumble for my phone on my nightstand. It’s Tuesday, ten a.m., which means I missed band practice. We rehearse first thing in the morning on Tuesdays and Fridays. Jelly insists we get together early, before any of our other obligations get in the way. It’s not my bandmates though. It’s Shane.
“What do you want?”
“Juliette will kill you if you’re not at Gabe’s in five minutes.”
“What are you talking about?” I start drifting back into blissful oblivion.
“The breakfast. Didn’t she tell you?”
“She said come for dinner on Sunday.” I double check my messages. She sent me another one an hour ago.
Juliette: Change of plans. Breakfast at Dad’s. And Mom’s. Nine thirty.
She’s still getting used to the fact that her mom is here, not stashed away in another country in a CIA employee protection program or whatever they call it. Juliette had almost a decade to get used to the idea that it would always be her and Gabe. Of course she was over the moon that her mom wasn’t dead, but it’s still showing that she’s not done converting to her new reality. That’s another reason why I can’t leave her. I can’t put her through another dramatic loss.
“Just get over here,” Shane urges me. “Are you home?”
The very idea of moving brings metaphorical tears to my eyes. “I’ll be there in a mo.” I hang up and drop my arm to the mattress. After I savor a faux snore or two, I climb out of bed.
A cold shower later, I lock my house and sigh. Judging by the cars lining the street, it won’t be just me, Shane, and the Davenports. My whole band is here. For one reason or another, after Juliette got married, she took it upon herself to be more sociable with Tristan, Jelly, and Link. Maybe it’s because I never really let her hang out with my band before—I always believed she was better off not being a part of my chaotic world like that. Maybe it’s because Juliette won’t ask my permission for anything anymore. I have always treated her like her own person, but being married appears to have helped her feel more like an independent adult. I’m happy to see her taking more initiatives and doing what she wants without consulting anyone, including me, but Juliette is sticking Shane into more and more areas of my life. I’m not a fan.
“Where were you?” Juliette questions from her spot on the Davenports’ couch.
I shrug. “Home.”
