Page 36 of Last Chorus (A Perfect Song Duet #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

evangeline

Find her tomorrow

Where the river begins

Listen for mayhem

A storm in the wind

T here’s a protrusion of bark digging into my spine and a sharp rock under my thigh, but I can’t muster the energy to remedy either discomfort.

Full-body goosebumps periodically burst along my skin beneath my jeans and sweater—not from the cold, but from the woman I’m watching walk toward the glow of the Ashburn’s house.

Katherine moves slowly and gracefully. Long hair, mostly gray now, spirals down her back. A green velvet and lace duster whispers lightly over dirt and grass behind her.

“It was never the darkness outside of you that needed to be embraced, but the darkness within.”

Her voice stays long after she’s gone, twirling on the breeze, airy and ageless. As does the challenge that lay within her eyes alongside a kind of detached compassion. Like she expected I already knew what she was telling me. Like the words themselves weren’t all that important.

I tilt my head back against the tree. A peel of bark snags my hair, but the tug and tiny flare of pain don’t register.

Overhead, stripes of shadow paint the giant sycamore.

Its curves are sensual, distinctly feminine, the lowest branches resembling arms reaching for what they crave most. Space, oxygen, sunlight. The promise of life. Of love.

“The dam was always meant to break, Evangeline. Let the last barriers fall away. Trust the current and the light you see ahead. He’s waiting for you. He will not falter—he will not dim. But hurry. A storm approaches, and only together can you keep the light safe. ”

The shadows around me have deepened by the time I hear footsteps approaching. Awareness curls through me, opening my eyes as Wilder crouches before me. A warm palm cups my cheek. I turn my face to kiss his palm.

The air stills and thickens with unspoken words. I don’t ask him why he disappeared for an hour right after we got here or why he seemed so distracted when he returned. He doesn’t ask why I’m here instead of in his room or what Katherine said to me when she followed me outside.

He glances up at the tree, inhales shortly, then rocks back to his feet and extends a hand.

“Let’s go home.”

Home.

My smile hurts, but it’s a stretching pain, like blood circulating to sleeping muscles. Weightless like imaginary barriers falling one by one. Freeing like water rushing forth, finally on its destined path.

I follow the light.

An hour later, curled against Wilder on a couch with his fingers in my hair, the final barrier inside me silently crashes down .

My words are fumbling at first. Serrated sentences and stutters. Like spitting rocks from my lungs. But as I go on, they begin to flow. Not easily or smoothly, but unstoppable. Downhill river rapids.

I purge it all. How I buried my pain seven years ago instead of facing it, numbed myself from the inside out until I forgot who I was.

How much of my mid-twenties is a blur of brittle effort and flagging self-esteem.

Planes, buses, hotels. Stadiums and stages.

Roars and flashing lights. The voices of the many becoming louder and louder as I closed myself off to the voice of my own heart.

My pride, turning ever more toxic. My growing fears and personal failures. My insides and outsides becoming as mismatched as my eyes. How my music—the only pure thing left inside me—faded away and took my last flicker of identity with it.

The numbness. Emptiness. The silence and the dark.

I can’t look at him when I tell him about Clay, but I feel his subtle flinch when I admit what a relief it was at first. How I was in a downward spiral and Clay’s control felt like landing on solid ground.

“Maybe that’s where my anger comes from.”

Wilder brushes my hair back from the side of my face. “What do you mean? ”

“I did this to myself,” I murmur. “I ignored all the warning signs, dismissed the concerns of my closest friends, my parents… As angry as I am at Clay, I’m ten times angrier at myself. So maybe when I lash out, I’m really lashing out at myself for being so fucking weak.”

He tugs my chin until I lift my eyes to his. “I’m no expert, but I think those are probably normal feelings given what you’ve been through. But you’re not weak—far from it. It’s not your fault Clay took advantage of you. He’s an experienced manipulator. How the hell were you supposed to know?”

“Logically, I know that. But I can’t help feeling like it’s my fault.”

He nods, sighing. “I’m intimately familiar with guilt, so I get it. Imagine how many times I’ve wondered if you ending up with Clay is my fault.”

I stiffen. “What? How can you even say that?”

His eyes squeeze shut. “The night you first met him, at your showcase, I should have told you what he did to Kendra. If I had, maybe?—”

I palm his face, silencing him. He opens agonized eyes. “No. I prohibit you from feeling guilty.”

Some of his misery fades, a smile lifting one corner of his mouth. “You prohibit me?”

“Yes. Besides, you did warn me about Clay. I was the one who didn’t listen—or didn’t let myself remember.” I blink against the sting of tears, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Deep down, I knew he was a bad person. Maybe I felt like I deserved him. Or I was punishing myself. I don’t know.”

He makes a soft, sad sound and draws me against his chest. I listen to his heartbeat, slow and steady beneath my ear, and pull his scent into my lungs. Glowing warmth spreads through me, burning away the taint of my memories. In their absence, the truth resonates. Katherine’s words, my salvation.

He will not falter—he will not dim.

“You saved me, Wilder. Even though I turned my back on you, you still came for me when I needed you most. I couldn’t hear music anymore, but I heard you .

Your voice led me out of the darkness, just like it did when I got lost on that camping trip.

So yes, you’re prohibited from feeling guilty about the choices I made in the past.”

A tremble moves through his arms. He sighs into my hair, and there’s a smile in his next words. “Maybe we should stick together from now on. Seems safer.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Gratitude and hope shine painfully bright inside me. “I talked to my mom today—she’s going to help me find a therapist. I… I’m sorry for what I’ve put you through the last two weeks. All my mood swings. I know I’ve been a lot. ”

He shifts against me, lifting me off his chest so we’re face-to-face. Warm hands cup my cheeks. His eyes are almost unnaturally radiant in the dimly lit room, shimmering brown and gold flecks on a rich emerald canvas.

“I’m so proud of you for asking for help.” His tongue runs subtly along his teeth. “But I want to redden your ass for that bullshit about mood swings.”

My face heats beneath his hands. Fighting the flames of arousal, I shake my head. “It’s not bullshit. I literally screamed at you yesterday for putting my underwear in the dryer, then locked myself in the bathroom and cried for an hour.”

His brows jump. “So what? Shit, you should have seen me in my first year of sobriety—actually, I’m glad you didn’t.

” The brief flash of humor in his eyes fades.

“With what you’re processing right now, emotional anarchy is a given.

You think I care that you pop off on me sometimes?

You think I can’t take it? Fairy, I’d face a thousand times worse for the privilege of sharing the same air as you. ”

That air thins, leaving me breathless. “Then maybe you’re as crazy as I am.”

A thumb slides across my hot cheek. “Call yourself crazy again and I’ll punish your ass with more than my hand. ”

The throb between my legs intensifies so suddenly I squirm. “Is that a promise?”

A slow, wicked grin spreads on his face. “How pissed are you that I haven’t taken that beautiful ass?”

I bare my teeth, more challenge than smile. “The toys and lube you ordered came over a week ago. You haven’t even opened the box. I’m starting to think you’re trying to give me another complex.”

His grin sharpens for a moment before falling. Eyes darkening, he wraps hot fingers around my throat. I swallow against his palm and his gaze drops to my mouth. Parting my lips, I drag the tip of my tongue between them. Wilder grunts, his eyes narrowing in censure.

Being denied his lips on mine has been torture. I hate that he’s been strong enough to resist temptation, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t also love him for that strength. For his unfailing commitment to what he feels is right. His never-faltering light.

“Sweet Fairy,” he murmurs. “Never doubt that I want all of you all the time. Every inch of your body. Every mood, every scream, every tear and laugh. Thank you for opening up to me tonight. You’re so brave, and I’m so fucking proud of you.

” He pauses, regret flashing in his eyes.

“As much as it pains me to say this, tonight probably isn’t the time to open that box.

It’s been a long day. We should get some sleep.

Unless you want me to run you a bath first? ”

His fingers loosen on my throat. Before he can fully release me, I grab his hand with both of mine and hold it to my skin. I almost smile at the surprise in his eyes, but the moment is too massive, ringing in my body and soul like a mighty bell.

“I’m not using you as a distraction, Wilder. Not right now, and not once since I got here.”

I know I’ve hit the mark when his expression shutters. An ache spreads through my chest as the full scope of our lives unfolds in my mind’s eye. Who we are and have been. How we match and mirror each other now and across the pages of the past.

My first steps as a child were to follow him. The first time I sang was to sing with him. The first poem I wrote and every song I’ve written since—every single one—all belong to him.

We’ve been each other’s light and darkness. We’ve broken each other. Saved each other. We’ve stretched our souls’ tether to the point of fraying. But it will never, ever snap. Nothing can destroy the bond between us.

He was right all those years ago, the day we sat beneath the sycamore and promised each other forever.

We are more.

We’re everything .

My heart flutters, heavy and impossibly light.

“I’ve been trying to be the girl you loved before, to get back to that version of myself. I thought that was who you wanted, who you deserved.”

Frowning, he opens his mouth, but I press a finger to his lips.

“I’ve realized it wasn’t about you at all. I wanted to be that person again because I’ve been struggling to accept who I’ve become. How my choices have changed me.” I trace a fingertip along his lower lip. “But you don’t see any of that, do you? You just see me.”

He nods. “All I ever see when I look at you is my Fairy—my muse, my reason, my everything. You’re the only addiction I’ll never give up. My obsession forever.”

I blink away a veil of tears. “I see you too. You’re my perfect song. If the offer is still on the table, I’d like to return your missing piece and come home. Can I keep you forever? Will you keep me?”

His chest convulses and his beautiful eyes shine with tears. “Yes. More yeses than stars in the sky. Always yes.”

Shadows swirl around us, the ripples of Katherine’s warning: A storm approaches. But they can’t touch or dim this light.

Wilder’s forehead drops to mine. “I love you, Evangeline. So much I burn with it.”

“I love you, too.” I grip his wrist, straining my face toward his. “But if you don’t kiss me right now, I’m going to smother you in your sleep.”

A dimple flashes, then his face lowers. Parted lips meet mine, soft and warm and achingly sweet.

Time stops.

Everything fades away.

And it’s just us.

Like it’s always been and always will be.