“Tell me about her.” He sits, pulling me down next to him.
“She loved old country music and art. You saw her paintings. I’ve never been able to see them like she did. She saw beauty in everyone, even when they didn’t deserve it.” My thoughts wander to my father again. I shake my mind free. This isn’t about him. It’s about her. “She used to say ‘some days are diamonds, Adair. Treasure those days.’ I didn’t understand what she meant, but I do now. I always thought she was complaining about the bad days and how little good days we have. But she was reminding herself that a better day was coming. She just had to look for it and treasure it. I wish I’d treasured my days with her more. I wish I could have said goodbye.”
I can’t help staring at the small shoots of grass that are growing where they dug up the spot for her coffin. “She’s been down there long enough for grass to grow. She’s been down there so little, it’s still mostly dirt. I’m stuck in this hellish limbo between holding on to her and letting her go.”
“You don’t have to let her go.” Darkness coats his words and I wonder again about his family, but I don’t dare bring it up. I wonder if he visits his mother’s grave.
“I should have brought flowers,” I realize as I stare at the bare grave. “She’s dead and I’m still fucking things up.”
“Next time,” he promises. “Do you think she’d be mad at you?”
I shake my head. “No. She’d hug me and tell me she loved me,” I choke on the last bit. She’s the only person who’s ever said it to me. I strain my memory trying to recall daddy saying it, but I can’t. Maybe no one ever will again.
Sterling wraps his arms around me and pulls me into a hug.
“I don’t like hugs,” I warn him.
“Too bad, Lucky. You’re getting one.” He doesn’t release me and instead of waiting quietly for it to be over, I find myself melting into him. He’s warm and solid and real. Sterling for all his bad attitude and quick temper is something I didn’t expect: safe harbor. I keep trying to tell myself I’ll survive this, hoping I’ll find the conviction I need to actually do so. I keep looking for the words—for proof that I can. But it was never about believing in some thing. I know because I found someone to believe in: him.
28
Sterling
Present Day
Adair’s friends swarm to the Barrelhouse like moths to a lantern. Soon it’s not just Poppy and Kai, it’s the whole crew. They’re not here to watch Kai perform, they saw him last weekend. They want to bask in some of his attention. The truth is that most of them have been sitting around waiting on something their entire lives: their family’s company, a trust fund, an inheritance. In the meantime, everything’s been handed to them. They’ll never know what it’s like to become someone. They were born to someone, which means they’ve never had to try. And why would they when money means famous friends willing to share the limelight?
The drinks flow as quickly as Jack can pour them. He even assigns a dedicated waitress to our table, but he refuses to take my credit card to start a tab.
“It’s on the house,” he says, sliding it back to me. “The performance will have us written up in every paper in town—and you better be careful, Sterling, or I really might steal that girl.”
My lips curve into a smirk, but my eyes linger on Adair. “You can try, but I wouldn’t advise it.”
Most of the group is busy doing shots, but I can’t help noticing that Oliver Hawthorne has broken off from the crowd. He’s dressed in an expensive suit, fresh off whatever job his nepotism has secured. He wastes no time chatting up a single woman at the far end of the bar.
“Keep an eye on that one,” I tell Jack. “He’s got shifty fingers.”
Jack knows exactly what I mean. Oliver won’t get any drugs past him tonight. Ava sashays over and links her arms around me. As usual, Darcy is at her heels.
“You sure you don’t want something?” Ava asks.
I shrug her off me and force a smile. “Someone has to be the designated driver.”
“We have drivers,” she says.
“I think it’s sweet of you,” Darcy says, leaning against me on my other side. They’re like a pair of bad pennies—always turning up. They haven’t left me alone since they arrived, which I imagine is all part of Adair’s plan.
But Adair has gotten quite cozy with Jack’s reserve whiskey. She practically sloshes as she pushes herself between me and Darcy.
“Are you hitting on my man?” she says. Her accent, which is usually barely noticeable, deepens to a full southern.
“Your man?” I repeat under my breath, amused despite myself.
“Isn’t that what you are?” She turns, forgetting Darcy, and wraps her arms around my neck. “Unless you changed your mind.”
I brush a strand of sticky hair from her forehead and let myself pretend she means it. “Never, Lucky.”
She’s too drunk to care that I just broke the rule she made earlier.
“Good.” She gives me a sloppy smile. Then, she lurches forward and kisses me. She tastes like whiskey and bad decisions, and I want more than a single shot of her.
“Get a room!” Kai whoops.
Adair breaks away from me and giggles. “Is that all you got?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “That’s what she said.”
“I don’t think that works the way you meant it to,” Poppy informs him, shaking her head.
“Let’s dance.” Adair pulls me toward the dance floor.
“I need to talk to Jack for a second,” I say, directing her toward her friends. They swallow her whole. Adair never fits in more than when she finally lets go. She’s never known what she
