“You shouldn’t be out here all alone,” I say, approaching.
“Couldn’t sleep. Thought I might channel it into a song.”
“Where’s Connor?”
She shrugs. “Don’t know. I fell asleep while we were watching a movie, and he was gone when I woke up. I don’t have my truck, so… I’m kinda stuck here until he gets back.”
I hop onto the tailgate, keeping a good two feet of distance between us, even though I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms. “You should’ve woken me up. I’m always happy to give you a ride home.”
“It’s fine, Liam. Really. I’m not your responsibility.” Her eyes are downcast, but I don’t miss the slight tremble in her bottom lip. “He’s not coming back, is he?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. I won’t apologize for Connor—he can do that for himself—but you deserve better, and I think you know that.”
I don’t know what’s going on with my brother, and frankly, I no longer give a fuck. He’s hurting her in the worst way, and I can’t stand by and watch it happen anymore. I’ve kept my distance out of respect for their relationship, but he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserveher.
Ruby and Connor have been inseparable since freshman year, or at least they had been. You’d think a three-year relationship would mean something to him, but lately, Connor has been distracted and neglectful.
This isn’t the first time I’ve found Ruby out here on her own, and unless she finally dumps his ass for good, it won't be the last. After what happened at prom, I didn’t think she would take him back.
I was wrong.
A small part of me hoped she felt something that night, or maybe I wanted her to choose me, but I’ve never been anybody’s first choice.
“Want me to take you home?” I ask.
“Could you just stay here with me for a while?” Her voice is hesitant.
I could never deny her.
“Sure.” I scoot further into the truck bed, resting my back against the side. “As long as you play for me.”
Her fingers find the chords as she strums her guitar. here are no lyrics, which surprises me. Ruby has a beautiful voice.
“Why aren’t you singing?” I ask.
“I only have the melody so far. Still working out what the song is trying to say.”
“Maybe it’s not the song that needs to tell you the story. Maybe you need to pull the words from your soul. What are you feeling when you listen to the chords?”
“You sound like you have experience.”
“I used to write. Back when Connor and I were still in foster care, one of our foster dads gifted me a secondhandguitar and taught me how to play. Then his wife got pregnant, and we were placed with a new family.”
She squeezes my hand. “I want to hear you play.” She pulls the strap over her head to pass me her guitar. It’s well-loved, covered in stickers, and what looks like her signature in faded black marker.
“Are you sure? It probably won't be any good.”
“Please.”
I exhale a shaky breath and place my fingers on the chords. When the first note rings out, it almost feels like coming home. I follow the melody Ruby was playing earlier, and when her tentative voice joins in, it feels like a victory.
We both stayed up late
Three a.m. on your tailgate
Looking for comfort in the stars.
But you found me first,
