It was at such odds with how I imagined Cole that I had to see him playing. I silently made my way downstairs to the music room and hesitated outside the door, leaning in just enough to see without being seen.
And there he was. Not properly sitting on the bench, but leaning across it on one knee like he hadn’t meant to stay that long. The musician’s fingers that I’d spotted earlier weren’t visible to me from this angle, but I didn’t need to see them. All I had to see was his face. Unaware of an audience, lost in the repeated rhythm of the piano riff, lit by the evening, it was like all of Cole’s armor had fallen off. This was not the aggressively handsome, cocky guy that I had met a few days ago. This was just a boy getting to know a tune. He looked young and uncertain and endearing, and I felt betrayed that he was somehow getting himself together when I couldn’t.
Somehow, he was yet again being honest, sharing another secret, when I didn’t have anything I was willing to give in return. For once, I saw something in his eyes. I saw that he was feeling again, and that whatever he was feeling was hurting him.
I wasn’t ready to hurt.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
• SAM •
The way home from Duluth was a collage of red taillights, highway signs suddenly looming out of the darkness only to disappear as quickly as they’d appeared, my voice coming out of the speakers and out of my mouth, Grace’s face illuminated in little flashes and flickers by oncoming headlights.
Grace’s eyes were half lidded with sleepiness, but I felt like I would never sleep again. I felt like this was the only day left in the world and I needed to be awake for it. I’d already told her about Cole, who he was, but I felt like there was more to say. I was probably annoying Grace, but she was being nice enough to not say anything about it. I said, again, “I thought he looked familiar. I just don’t understand why Beck would do it.”
Grace pulled her hands inside her sleeves and sealed the ends with her fingers. Her skin looked bluish by the light of the radio’s display. “Maybe Beck didn’t know who he was. I mean, I only kind of knew who NARKOTIKA was. I only know their one song. The one about breaking faces, or whatever.”
“But he had to have an idea. Beck found him in Canada. While Cole was on tour. On tour. How long until someone in Mercy Falls sees him and recognizes him? What if they come take him home and he turns into a wolf? Once he’s human for the summer, will he just hide in the house and hope no one recognizes him?”
“Maybe,” Grace said. She dabbed her nose with a tissue, then balled the tissue up and stuffed it in her coat pocket. “Maybe he wants to stay lost and it won’t be a problem. I guess you should ask him. Or I could, since you don’t like him.”
“I just don’t trust him.” I ran my fingers back and forth across the steering wheel. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Grace lean her head against the car door and sigh. She didn’t look like herself.
Instantly, guilt flooded me. She’d worked so hard to make this the perfect day and I was ruining it. “Ah—I’m sorry. I’m being an ingrate. I won’t worry about it anymore, okay? It can be tomorrow’s problem.”
“Liar.”
“Don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad. I’m just sleepy, and I want you to be happy.”
I took one hand off the wheel to touch her hand where it lay on her lap. Her skin was very hot. “I am happy,” I said, although now I felt worse than before. I was torn between wanting to lift up her hand to see if it smelled like wolf and wanting to leave it there and pretend that it didn’t.
“This one is my favorite,” she said softly. I didn’t realize what she meant until she clicked back to the beginning of a track as soon as it ended. On the CD, the other Sam, the now-unchangeable one who stayed forever young, sang I fell for her in summer, my lovely summer girl, while another unchangeable Sam sang close harmonies over the first one.
My heart thumped in my chest as headlights striped across the interior of the car before leaving it dark again. I couldn’t help but think about the last time I’d sung that song. Not in the studio, today, but the time before that. Sitting in a car as dark as pitch, like this one, my hand tangled in Grace’s hair as she drove, right before the windshield exploded and turned the night into a good-bye.
It was supposed to be a happy song. It seemed wrong that it was forever poisoned by that memory, no matter how well things had turned out afterward.
Beside me, Grace turned her face to rest her cheek on the seat. She looked tired and faraway. “Will you fall asleep if I don’t entertain you?” she asked, with a vague smile.
“I’m okay,” I said.
Grace smiled at me, and tugged her jacket around her like a blanket. She kissed the air in my direction and closed her eyes. In the background, my voice sang I’d be happy with this summer if it’s all we ever had.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
• SAM •
The house was trashed. When I stepped into the living room, the first thing I saw was Cole with a broom and dustpan—a sight more ludicrous than him turning into a wolf—and then I saw shattered glass and tipped-over furniture behind him.
Grace said “Oh” behind me, in a sort of distressed way, and at the sound of her voice, Cole turned. He had the dignity to look surprised, though not enough to look apologetic.
I didn’t know what to say to him. Every time I thought I might eventually work up some empathy and kindness toward him, he started some new fire. Did the rest of the house look like this? Or just every square inch of the living room?
Grace, however, looked at Cole, her hands stuck in her pockets, and said, “Problems?” in a light sort of way. With a smile in her voice.
And to my utter surprise, Cole smiled ruefully back at her, charming and now apologetic. “Herd of cats,” he said. “I’m taking care of it.” This last bit was with a glance in my direction, meant for me. Grace gave me a look that clearly said I was supposed to be nicer to him. I tried to remember if I’d ever been nice to him. I was sure I must’ve been, at the beginning.
I looked back at Grace. In the brighter light of the kitchen, she looked pale and tired, petal-thin skin showing darkness below. She probably ought to be in bed. She probably ought to be home. I wondered what her parents must be thinking and when they were supposed to return. I asked her, “I’ll get the vacuum?” Meaning: Is it okay if I leave you with him?
Grace nodded firmly. “Good idea.”
• GRACE •
So this was Cole St. Clair. I’d never met a rock star before. I wasn’t really disappointed, either. Even holding a broom and dustpan, he looked like a rock star, unreal and restless and unsafe. But I didn’t agree with Sam about Cole’s empty eyes. They looked full enough to me. Not that I was the greatest at reading people.
I looked straight at him and said, “So you’re Cole.”
“You’re Grace,” he said, though I didn’t know how he would know.
“Yes,” I said, and picked my way over to one of the living room chairs. I sank into it gratefully. I was beginning to feel like my body had been bludgeoned with rocks from the inside. I looked again at Cole. So this was the guy that Beck had hoped would take Sam’s place. He’d obviously had good taste with Sam, so I was willing to give Cole the benefit of the doubt. I glanced at the stairs, to make sure Sam wasn’t back yet from getting the vacuum, and said, “So. Is it what you expected?”