Page 49 of Sing For Me

The silence rings in my ears. No one ever mentions Skye to me, not directly. And we certainly don’t ever talk about what happened to her. My family learned that lesson every time I exploded at them for trying to get me to talk in the early days.

But I don’t explode now. I just deflate into my chair, covering my face with my hands. “I already like her too much.”

“So talk to her,” Rose says. “Tell her about Skye.” A shot of panic goes through me at the very thought. “Let her know where you’re coming from.”

“I don’t know,” I grumble, and Alex groans.

“Boys.” She shakes her head. “What’s so scary about talking?”

I remove my hands from my face. “I don’t fucking know, okay, Alex? It just…it makes me feel sick. Even right here with the three of you, talking about her has me breaking out in a cold sweat.”

It’s quiet for a moment while the three of them stare at me, pity and concern clear in each face. Fanfuckingtastic.

The awkward moment is broken when the front door bangs open. Our apartment has an open floor plan so I can see River entering from here. “Hey,” he calls out, dropping his bag right next to the door just because he knows it will piss Rose off. “Place overrun by the giggling masses yet?”

“Not yet,” I tell him, relieved by his arrival. Maybe now we can drop this.

No such luck. River comes into the living room, takes one look at me, and sighs before turning to the girls. “He’s still freaking out, huh?”

I throw a pillow at him and he grabs it in midair before collapsing on the couch and shoving it behind his head.

“He’s having a hard time,” Everly tells him softly. “He’s scared if he gets serious with her it will turn out like before.”

“Sitting right here, Everly,” I mutter.

“Dude, you’re thinking about this all wrong,” River says. “Eva is nothing like Skye.”

He winces when he says her name, like he’s waiting for me to lose my shit. But I keep it together. “How do you know that? You’ve spent an hour with her.”

“I didn’t need to spend any time with her to know that Eva is not some green newbie with stars in her eyes,” he says. “She already released two massively successful albums. She was crowned the newest member of America’s pop royalty the minute her debut dropped. Her life would have completely changed overnight.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that she’s already had more exposure to the music scene than Skye ever did,” he says firmly. “She’s already been through the ringer. And she didn’t melt down over it.”

His words have a glimmer of hope shining in my chest but I’m not ready to be optimistic yet. “That doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”

River straightens, facing me head on. “How much research have you done about this girl?”

“Uh, none?” I never considered searching Eva online—that sounded way too creepy.

My cousin holds my gaze. “What happened with that fire was fucked up, Will. I know you were doing everything you could to ignore any entertainment news back then, but I read about it. And I remember our dads talking about it.” He studies me. “Has she told you anything?”

“Not much,” I tell him. But the few things she has said, or implied, back up River’s statement that it was a fucked-up situation. Her injury. Being afraid of crowds. Her friends having to resort to elaborate games just to get her to leave the house. “But I’m pretty sure it was rough on her.”

“Of course it was,” he says. “Two peopledied, Will. News reports said she was one of the last people to make it out.”

The idea of Eva going through something like that has a fresh surge of panic hitting me.

“All I’m saying,” River continues. “If something was going to drive that girl to drugs? It probably already happened.”

I know he’s trying to be encouraging, but all his words do is make my blood run cold. “Fuck. Do you think she’s already using?”

“Jesus,” Alex mutters. “Talk to her.You don’t have to tell her about Skye yet. You can keep it general and still make sure you’re on the same page about drugs and the party scene.”

Air slowly refills my lungs, calming me. “You’re really fucking annoying when you’re right, you know that, Alexandria?”

She rolls her eyes at me but before she can respond with her trademark snark, the door bangs open again. “Who’s ready to party?” Santana shouts, arms full with a sparkling purple sleeping bag and what looks like enough luggage to last for a week.