Page 81 of Rescue

“What look?”

“That lovesick, brand-new-relationship, can’t-stand-to-spend-a-minute-apart look.”

I make a face, but Daisy responds before I can. “Don’t worry, it will fade with time. And then you’ll spend half your day putting up with all the boring crap they want to do and wish you could spend several dozen minutes apart.”

Paige gasps. “When do you ever feel like that?”

“All the time,” Daisy says. “It doesn’t mean I’m not crazy about the boy. It just means that I’m sick and tired of watching extreme fishing shows on cable.”

“Am I the only single girl in this car?” Layla asks.

“Yes,” Karen says. “And that means we all have to live vicariously through you. So spill. Who was that cute guy you were talking to at the Prada store this morning?”

As Layla launches into the story of one of her many conquests, I let my mind wander to what Karen said. Was it just a stage, feeling this way about Lennon?Can’t stand to be apart for a minute. That pretty much summed it up. Was it too early for those kinds of feelings? Or were they harmless because it was so early—was it merely the first days of relationship flush that Karen predicted?

Back at the hotel, we all gather in Paige’s room. Lennon wasn’t too far from the truth when he predicted nail painting. It’s your basic, girly sleepover from middle school—everyone in their PJs, lots of food, silly rom-coms on TV, and boy talk. So much boy talk.

“It’s so nice to see Lennon with someone,” Paige says from behind me as she attempts a complicated French braid in my hair. “I can’t even tell you.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because he always seems so lonely!”

“Nice, Paige,” Karen says. “Tell his new girlfriend that the guy is a loner.”

“I didn’t say loner!” Paige cries, horrified. “You make it sound like he’s all creepy or something—”

“It’s okay,” I say, hoping she’ll stop shouting and spare my hearing. “I knew what you meant.”

“Of course you did.” She sighs happily. “Because you get him.”

“She’s a little overdramatic with the romance stuff,” Karen says. “Sorry.”

“Anyhow,” Daisy says firmly when it’s obvious that Paige is about to argue. “We’re all very happy to see Lennon happy. But we mean that in a totally non-pressuring kind of way.”

“It is strange,” Karen muses. “To think about all of the Ransome boys being taken.”

“It was weird when it was Cash,” Paige says drily. “Nothing will ever be as weird as that.” She shoots a look at Sam. “Sorry.”

Sam laughs. “It was weird for me too, believe me.”

“How’d you guys get together?” Layla asks, and Sam recounts the story of her meeting Cash, infused with lots of happy sighs from Paige at the romance of it all. As they talk, I let my mind wander. Would I be in their shoes someday? Telling the story of how I fell for Lennon Ransome? And what would I say?We got drunk and slept together, but we didn’t start dating until he told me about his suicide attempt and I told him about my abduction by a stalker.

I cover my mouth so no one will hear me snicker. It certainly doesn’t sound very romantic. But I find that I don’t really care. Lennon and I understand each other. And all of that crap—from getting drunk in the middle of the afternoon and sleeping with a near stranger to the terrible things we shared in that museum—that’s part of us. Maybe that makes us broken, and maybe it makes us different from the other people on this tour. But it’s real, and it’s honest, and it’s who we are.

And maybe that’s why I know, later that night, long after the girls have gone to sleep, that I’m in the wrong room. Something is keeping me from sleeping even though I know I need my rest. Tomorrow is a huge day for the band. But sleep doesn’t come, and finally, around three, I get up to go see how Lennon is.

I find him sitting by the open window, shirtless, a glass of something dark and amber in his hand. He barely looks up as I enter, and I wonder if he was expecting me. I pull the blanket from the bed and climb into his lap, wrapping it around both of us.

“Another nightmare?”

He shakes his head. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

He rests his head on top of mine and sighs, the sound exhausted. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

I might not know what’s keeping him from sleep, but I do know that what he needs right now isn’t the glass of booze in his hand. What he needs is exactly what we’re doing—for the two of us to sit together, keeping each other company, keeping each other warm. It’s like I said—I understand him.

Is that such a good thing?A voice in my head wonders. For two people so fucked up to be relying on each other?

I think back to what Daisy said, about me being good for him. Is that true? A little shudder of fear goes through me, and Lennon tightens his arms. Is it possible to help someone when I’m such a mess myself?