Page 154 of I Dreamt That You Loved Me

I followed her out the door. The rain had stopped, and amber sunlight lit up the garden. “You’re too good to me.”

“Don’t I know it.”

CHAPTER SIXTY

Cleo

On Thursday afternoon,I was cleaning up my mess in the studio so the guys could use it to rehearse when I heard Otis scratching at the door.

The breeze must have blown it shut.

I swung the door open, and Otis bounded in with an extra little spring in his step.

His fur was damp and smelled like the organic dog shampoo Gabriel bought for him. Gabriel spent more on Otis’ shampoo than on his own.

“Did you just get a bath?” I asked after Otis got done rolling around on the floor and lay down in a patch of sunlight.

I was becoming like Gabriel, talking to Otis as if he were a human.

Gabriel told me that when he first brought Otis home, he cried because he already loved that dog so damn much. He called Otis his therapy dog.

“He’s done more for my mental health than any of the therapists I’ve gone to see,” Gabriel said. “I spill my guts and Otis listens without judgment.”

That made me laugh.

Gabriel had Otis and he had his music. According to him, that was all the therapy he needed. I wasn’t entirely convinced, but okay.

“You’re so lucky you found each other,” I told Otis as I packed my supplies in a box and stowed it in the corner next to the easel then shoved the drafting table under the window and slid the stool under it.

After covering my art with a sheet, I swept the floors. There. Done. All my stuff was neatly contained along the wall across from the guitars, keyboards, and drum kit.

I’d made a lot of progress with my art piece. Enough to feel comfortable taking the next few days off.

Gabriel and I had been working around the clock, me in the studio, and him on the front porch or in the living room. If inspiration struck in the middle of the night now, he came out here so he wouldn’t disturb my sleep.

Yesterday morning when I came to the studio, I found a bag of Doritos and a pack of Twizzlers from the night before. I kept hoping to find Gabriel’s notebook filled with lyrics, but he took it everywhere with him and guarded it like it was a big secret.

So far, I’d only heard two of his new songs. I was worried he wouldn’t finish in time, but he assured me that he would.

“Knock knock.” I looked over at the door and smiled at the familiar face. Eddie strode in with a case of beer and set it in front of the mini fridge. “You don’t write. You don’t call. What am I, chopped liver?” He held out his arms.

“Hey, Eddie.” I walked into his open arms and hugged him tight then pulled back, searching for changes. He looked the same. Long hair, wild. Cocky grin. “It’s great to see you.”

“You too.” He gave me an appraising look. “You look great. You’re doing better?”

“A lot better than the last time I saw you.” I chewed on my lip. “I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch. I just…I guess I needed to make a clean break.” I winced at how that sounded but after I’d packed up Gabriel’s things, I drew a line between our friend groups and split them down the middle. My friends. His friends. Boundaries.

“Nah, I get it,” Eddie said. “You had to do what was best for you.”

“I’m glad you were there for him though. It sounds like you and Dev really helped him a lot.”

He shrugged. “We came out here whenever we could.” His gaze drifted to the guitars hanging on the wall, some of which had belonged to my dad. “He was fucking lost until he started playing again. It was weird. He’d call me up and he’d go, ‘Hey, Eddie, I just discovered Robert Johnson!’ Or Jimmy Page. Or any of the other guitar heroes he’d already discovered back in high school. And he’d be so jazzed up about it that I didn’t have the heart to break it to him. Like, dude, you’ve been here before. Because for him, it was all new.” Eddie shook his head. “Freaky shit.”

“You know what’s freaky? He’s still soGabriel.”

“Tell me about it,” Eddie laughed. “Oh man, get this. He went through this stage where he was walking around with this weird-ass scarf wrapped around his head and he wore this big woolly blanket with fringes. Like a poncho or some shit. He looked like he should have been herding fucking llamas. I guess he was still trying to find himself, but we were like, nah, bro, keep trying becausethatain’t it.”

I couldn’t stop laughing. I could picture it so clearly.