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Barrett never understood art—the visual kind—but Nell was the most incredible portrait.

Those elegant, thin lines on her face that made his heart race became gut-wrenching when her eyes were rimmed with red.

In a matter of minutes, she had lost that golden light she got when she was inhibited and became a shadow.

And he still didn’t understand it.

The more human she appeared to him, the more it devastated the shield around his heart.

He fought the urge to reach out and stroke her face by clenching his fists hard around the bike handles as they walked in the warm night. Unlike the other night, they were silent.

Several times, he opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but he had a habit of saying the wrong thing without realizing it, so he snapped it shut and kept the questions to himself.

“Sam’s brother was there,” she answered his thoughts, so quiet that he thought his mind had made it up. “I haven’t seen him since the funeral.”

He nodded slowly, letting the admission settle over them in the darkness. “Why didn’t you talk to him?”

She laughed, short and humorless, and Barrett realized he’d said the wrong thing again, despite doing his best not to.

“We aren’t exactly on good terms.”

Barrett studied her with a tilted head. Trying to read her mind was useless. She was a mirror shattered in a million shards, and being able to find each one was near impossible.

“Her funeral was the only one I went to.” Her voice cracked, turning high and ragged.

Barrett’s breath was knocked from him.

He’d heard about that. Right after their deaths, their names were sprinkled in conversations throughout the entire town, including the music shop.

He wasn’t necessarily the type to care much about local gossip, but this was local gossip about Janelle Duncan. Plus, it was the juiciest, most tragic gossip the town had ever seen.

He’d heard some woman whisper to the other while flicking through records: “. . . killed them and didn’t bother showing up to their funerals. Can you even believe it? ”

That was where the darker rumors started. Many people thought Nell not showing up was an admission of guilt or, even worse, an inconvenience to her.

But here Nell was, saying she had gone to a funeral. One of them.

“I walked in those doors that day. I’d just gotten out of the hospital and I could barely walk, but I needed to be there.

Sam’s was the very first,” she said. “I didn’t even get into the viewing area before Jake showed up.

They’re twins, you know? Look almost exactly the same.

He saw me before anyone else, and he didn’t even let me say anything.

He just grabbed my arm and dragged me out. ”

Barrett couldn’t look away.

Her blue eyes had turned gray, her skin a shade paler.

“He was the first person I ever heard call me the things people do. I didn’t even know why, at first. I’ve been friends with Sam since kindergarten, so Jake was always there too.

I loved him. He was like a brother to me.

I couldn’t process what was happening that day or why he looked at me like that, but I left.

By the time the other funerals came around .

. . With the things people were saying and the things he’d said, I couldn’t bring myself to show up.

” She took a deep, shaking breath. “He was there, at The Pour House, sitting right behind us. I could tell he was angry, and . . . I get it. It’s not fair that I can have fun with you guys and live while Sam doesn’t.

He told me that day that I should be dead too.

” She paused, taking a deep inhale before she said, “Sometimes, I think he was right.” Tears poured silently down her face, glittering in the darkness.

Barrett bit his tongue, hoping it would help him come up with something to say, but it was pointless. He was lost for words.

He didn’t have the qualifications or the ability to make someone feel better. Part of him itched to reach out and take her hand, give her some form of comfort. But the more he hesitated, the further the moment passed until he simply gripped the handlebars tighter.

They walked for a long, long time, with only the sounds of their steps on the asphalt and the chirp of summer crickets.

“This is the part when you tell me something about you,” she finally said, and though her face still shone with shed tears, there was a soft, ironic upturn of her lips. “So I feel better.”

“Nothing I could say about myself even compares to that,” he admitted, cursing his cowardice and passing on the chance to take her hand before.

“It doesn’t have to compare. It just needs to be something.”

Barrett wracked his brain for something, anything, that he could say about himself. What he came up with was: “My favorite color is black.”

Nell paused, then let out a twinkling laugh. Her hand gently brushed at streaks, wiping them away, as she shook her head in amusement. “See, anything works.”

Barrett sighed, relieved, and found himself unable to hold back a smile. “I’m glad I could help.”

She laughed, softer this time, and shook her head. “I don’t get it. Why are you so nice to me?”

Now that was a complicated question. Barrett didn’t very well feel like he could go into the deep history he had with her, which she didn’t even know about. He’d probably ruin everything if he told her of his old crush. He enjoyed being around her too much to make things awkward now.

“You’re a nice person, based on what I saw in high school.”

“I was nice,” she corrected.

Barrett could agree to disagree because, despite what she thought, she was still a nice person. The version of herself that she thought was gone was still there, just below the exterior. He knew it. He saw it.

“Plus, I think we’re similar,” he added.

“You think?”

He shrugged, giving her a sidelong glance. “We both don’t quite belong anywhere. We’ve both had people turn their backs on us.”

“Who was yours?”

It was his own damn fault for bringing it up.

He cleared his throat. He’d already given her a piece of the story, but there were things he’d not told a whole lot of people. He didn’t like to get too close.

But, once again, he owed her. A secret for a secret.

“My parents.”

“Oh.” She immediately seemed to recognize the connection to his first story. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was their choice. Honestly, I don’t think they even realized they had a son half the time. I was young, so most of it is a blur, though I remember bits and pieces. Enough for it to . . .” He shook his head. “Anyways, it kind of makes us similar. Don’t you think?”

She nodded, contemplating, and then smiled up at him. “I think you’re right. That’s got to be it.”

He wanted to ask what she meant by “that’s got to be it”, but she was already looking forward again, her face having sculpted into a new, colored version of what it had been before.

Barrett really didn’t understand art, but he’d sure like to.

* * *

“You’re off tempo again,” Dennis chastised Barrett, who ran a hand through his hair for the hundredth time.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Pull it together, man,” Paulie said.

“I know.” Barrett shook his head, trying to clear it.

Nell had completely distracted him.

The story about the funeral was like something from a movie. What kind of person said those things to someone they grew up with?

Nell had fallen from grace.

On the surface, he had assumed it was grief, but after hearing what that Jake guy had said to her, he was starting to believe there was more to her spiral.

He was also incredibly distracted with worry that he’d scared her off.

Too much information about himself and his shitty childhood was just the kind of thing to scare a girl away.

“Well, you’ve got to get back in it by Sunday, or else we’re going to totally tank it in Bellevue.”

“You got us another gig?” Barrett was drawn back into Toni’s garage-turned-studio. He looked over at Dennis, brow raised.

“Apparently, those girls weren’t the only people who liked us. A couple of people asked when we’re coming back.”

“Fuck yeah!” Toni slammed his sticks into his cymbals, the crash ringing in Barrett’s ears. “Dude, you have to ask Duncan to come. I swear this stuff started happening when she showed up.”

“Ask her yourself if you’re so eager to be around her.” Barrett turned his back to him and grabbed his water, chugging it until it was gone.

“I can’t fucking believe it.” Toni sounded astounded.

Barrett glanced at him from the corner of his eye. Toni’s curls swung as she shook his head back and forth, mouth open.

Barrett raised a brow. “What?”

“Is Scott Barrett jealous right now?”

God, everything made him think of her, even his own first name. She’d called him that at least five times now, and the more he heard it come from her mouth, the more he liked it.

“No way,” Paulie said, looking between the two of them.

“He totally is.” Dennis had a shit-eating sneer on his face.

“I’m not.” Barrett glared at them and held onto his guitar to do his best to appear collected.

“You know you are so easy to read, right?” Paulie asked.

“Am not.”

“You haven’t met my eyes since I said her name,” Toni said.

“I thought you didn’t have a crush on her anymore,” Paulie added, recalling Barrett’s past admission.

“I don’t .”

“If you want us to believe you, you’re gonna have to be a hundred times more convincing,” Dennis said.

“Fuck off.” Barrett looked at the clock, cursed under his breath, and released his guitar from around him. “I’ve got to go. I have lessons with Janelle.”

If she was even going to show up anymore.

“Oh yeah, real convincing.”

“If I don’t leave now, I’m gonna be late.”

“Since when do you give a shit about being on time anyways?”

Barrett shook his head and walked out of the open garage door. “Goodbye.” Instead of waving, he flicked them his middle finger.