“What moment?” I whisper.
Another long pause. “The moment I knew my dreams had changed.”
My grip tightens on the phone, a lump swelling in my throat. “How did you know?”
“There was just…something in his eyes. He bought me a beer, and we found a place on the grass, started talking like we’d known each other forever. And he said to me—while Peter Gabriel just happened to be playing ‘In Your Eyes’—he said, ‘Are you the one I’ve been looking for?’” She snickers under her breath. “Cheesy, I suppose. But all I could think wasyes. And I knew then that sometimes the dreams we give up make way for dreams we never knew we wanted.”
I let her words settle in, somewhere deep. Part of me wonders if she has any regrets, if she’d go back and change anything if she could. But I don’t think I want to know. I want to believe everything worked out, just like it was supposed to. She’s happy.
Staring at the big, bright star, I ask her one more question. “Do you and Dad still give your daily highlights at dinnertime?”
“We do. Every night.”
I smile. “Can you add mine into the mix?”
“Of course.”
“I just wanted to say…” My eyes close, the sixty-degree breeze feeling like a hug from home. “I wanted to say thank you. For the childhood you gave me. I’m appreciating it a lot more right now.”
There’s a beat of hesitation. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. I guess I’m just a little homesick.”
“Understandable,” she says. “How are things with Lex?”
“Oh, he’s—” My words are cut short when I feel a presence behind me, followed by a sound. I spin around in the chair and find him standing at the cracked-open door, his shoulder propped against the slider. I wet my lips and clear my throat. “Everything is great, Mom. I need to get going. Can I call you tomorrow?”
“Anytime, Stevie. Sweet dreams.”
“Sweet dreams.” The call disconnects, and I pivot back around, finding him staring at the stars, one hand in his pocket. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he replies softly.
We haven’t spoken much since he laid his ghosts out at my feet and gave them names. The truth is I haven’t known what to say or what to do. Every instinct in me wants to take him in my arms, sink my fingers in his hair, and tell him that I’m here. But I don’t think that’s what he needs, and the last thing I want to do is make it worse. So my heart remains in limbo, living under the same roof with this broken man while unable to mend his pieces.
Lex’s throat rolls as he squints at the skyline. “Was that your mom?”
“Yeah,” I whisper.
He looks tired. He often does, but right now it’s the kind of tired that draws gray lines across his face and dims his blue eyes to something murky.
My heart pangs. There’s so much I want to say.
“Have you been in your room yet?” He glances at me, a slow slide of his eyes. “Since you got home?”
A frown creases. “No. Why?”
“Just wondering.” He nods up at the pinboard of milky jewels. “This feels familiar.”
I follow his stare while he takes the empty seat beside me, the arms of the chairs clacking together. “Yeah, I guess it does. But the farm is quieter.”
“The noise is the only thing I like about this city.”
I’m about to ask him why, but I think I already know: city noise is better than the noise inside his head. My swallow is tight, clunky, as I cross my legs at the knee. “How was your day? I saw someone posted a TikTok of you signing autographs outside that new café on Melrose.”
He doesn’t look at me, but his gaze lightens, just a touch. “Stalking my hashtags, Nicks?”
Color blooms on my cheeks, and I duck my head to hide the guilty grin. “I should probably keep myself in the loop with my boyfriend’s whereabouts, don’t you think?”
