“Fistfight, what?”
“It looked like your curls were taking punches at one another,” I said. He laughed from the base of his throat, a sound I already loved, and I used that love to tell him what was crashing through my brain. “I only have four more days, Eamon.”
His eyes were fastened on the road, his voice full of nerves. “What if you went to college here? Then we’d have more time.”
“What if you move to LA and become a famous actor?”
He shook his head, his cheeks pinking. “I’d say that’s a bit forward to be thinking.”
“I don’t think so. You were brilliant. You lit up that scene, and there was something about the way it balanced out Shoshanna’s anger… It was like magic.”
“Like fantasy?” He winked, shuffling his hands on the wheel. “My ma has a saying. It’s a life policy, really. Do something that scares you every day.” He glanced at me. “I’ve been doing that as long as I can remember. The audition tape I made and sent to Cate? That was the scary thing I did that day. And yesterday? Well, yesterday I did two. One was to act. The second was to tell you how much I like you.”
“I like you too much.” My voice had come out nice and even, but my heart went nuts. I sat up and actually gasped. “Oh God, that was scary.”
“How is that scary? I already told you I like you.”
“Yes, but you could change your mind. You could have spent the whole night being like, ‘Iris Thorne is too high maintenance. Terrible for my career. She wasn’t even a good kisser.’”
He laughed. “Is that what it’s like in your head? Is Satan in there, poking you with his pitchfork whenever you start to feel happy?”
I pictured my father in a Satan costume, sitting at his desk, typing his novels. It worked. But there was more… Something kept blocking my way.
“Story structure,” I murmured.
“What was that?”
“When I was Ryder’s age, my dad made me study literature. I had a tutor and everything. At the time, I thought my dad wanted me to grow up to be a professor, and I was an excellent student. Now he uses my brain to talk through his plot dilemmas. I help him a lot actually.”
Those were the only times I felt truly good outside of my music—helping Dad write a book. Ryder wasn’t wrong; we did have a little club. Dad would haul me into his office, and I’d kick back on the small sofa and hear what was giving him trouble, offering advice.
“Eamon, can we not follow the laws of story structure here? I mean, I know you like me and I like you. And we’ve got some, uh, complications, which means we should stay apart awhile longer before we get together. I don’t want to do that.” Whoa. “I’m leaving soon, and I don’t want to wait until the last night of camp, so to speak, before we kiss again. It was too amazing.”
Eamon rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks vividly pink. “Well, aren’t you direct.”
I waited for him to say more, but he went quiet. We pulled into the airport parking lot, and I hoped I hadn’t made a huge fool out of myself. I’d said how I felt and that couldn’t be bad, right? When does all this honesty pay off, Cate?
Eamon took the keys out of the ignition. “Shoshanna,” he said, bringing me back to the stakes at hand. If I couldn’t somehow convince her to come back, we didn’t have four days.
We had none.
DR. JILLIAN HOLTZMANN FOR THE WIN
The Dublin Airport was much larger than the one in Shannon. We swept every area before security without finding Shoshanna.
“She must have gone through to the gates,” Eamon said, dejected.
We both glanced at the Garda. “Then we’ll have to get creative,” I said, leading him to the help desk and a smiling middle-aged woman. “My friend went through security but she forgot her medicine. Could you page her to come back through? Her name is Shoshanna Reyes.”
“What gate?” The woman squinted. I looked at Eamon. He shrugged. “You don’t know her gate? What about her destination city?”
“Los Angeles,” I said, but I didn’t know if that’s where Shoshanna would go. “I think.”
“You think?” she said, cutting so hard into the th it ticked. “Come back when you have more information.”
We left the counter with slow steps. “Why don’t we even know where she’s from?” I asked, mostly to myself. “She knows everything about us.”
Eamon glanced at the monitors. “There’s a plane leaving for LA in forty-two minutes. It’s already boarding.” He sat down hard before the Aer Lingus lines and put his head in his hands. I wanted to push my hand through his abbreviated curls, settling for an awkward pat on the shoulder instead. “Thanks for trying, Iris.”
His brokenhearted tone was too much. And I hadn’t tried. Not really. If I had, I could make it happen. After all, I was the same person who’d marched into a music store when I was eleven with an envelope containing my life savings—and walked out with Annie despite my father’s mockery and disapproval.
I felt the bulge in my pocket. There was a reason I’d doubled back to my trailer before we jumped in Eamon’s car. I’d picked up my wallet and passport.
“Stay here.” I jumped to the front of the Aer Lingus line. “Sorry! Emergency!” I called out to the scowling people who’d been waiting. When I reached the counter, I put on my most earnest expression. “I need to get on that flight to LA. My…” Mom? Dad? They wouldn’t give me enough emotion to pull this off. “My brother was hit by a car. I have to get to him.”
Honest
