Page 45 of Chasing Stardust

As if the thought summons him, Damian’s face replaces Dash’s on the screen, instantly sticking a pin in my good mood. Steeling myself against a wave of anxiety, I accept the call.

“Who drove you to Memphis?” he demands.

I recoil from his biting tone, unable to remember any of the reasons for staying together. Determined to defend Dash’s honor, I stiffen my spine. “A nice guy I met at the diner. He was going that way anyway and asked if I wanted to tag along.”

“A guy?” As expected, Damian lets out a string of colorful curses that would make even Jeanie blush. “You’re taking rides from strangers now?”

“Yes.” My stomach flutters as I think of said—really hot—stranger. “In fact, I’m doing many things you’d probably disagree with. I drank a drink I didn’t pour. Sat on a dirty sidewalk and didn’t wash my hands afterward. Spent the whole damn day hanging out with a guy I barely know.”

A guy who actually seems to give a damn about what I’m going through, unlike the selfish prick on the other end of the line.

“And you know what? I had fun. For the first time since Mom got sick, I’m experiencing life for myself. And I like it.”

“That’s great. I’m happy for you.” His lack of enthusiasm tells me otherwise, and I suddenly understand what Jeanie’s been saying all along. “You’ve had your fun, now come home.”

“I’m not coming back!” The words erupt in a rush as the pent-up anger I’ve been keeping in check for months—longer than that if I’m being honest—bubbles to the surface.

How freaking dare he order me around? And why the hell did I let him get away with treating me this way for so long? I sure as hell don’t want to spend the next decade asking myself the same questions.

“We can still—” He chokes off his sentence. “What did you say?”

My breath hitches. “I said I’m not coming home. I’m finishing my trip.”

“After everything that’s happened, you’re still finishing your damn trip? What happens if next time, instead of a possum in the road, the goddamn engine falls out? Or the tires blow?”

“For the last time, it was an armadillo, not a possum. And if the engine falls out, I’ll get another one.” Shrugging off his excuses like a wet blanket, I finally breathe for the first time in months.

“Zoey, you can’t just ‘get another one.’ Engines are—”

“I don’t care, Damian. Nothing you say will scare me into running home.” My chest tightens as I realize I mean every word. “I won’t be back until I’ve spread Mom’s ashes in every one of the stops on that tour. I don’t care how many auditoriums were torn down, or wallets I lose, or accidents I have, I’m finishing what I started.”

“W-What about school?” he stammers. “Your mom’s cancer was the reason you couldn’t start two years ago, but now that she’s gone . . .”

“She just died, you heartless asshole.”

He lowers his voice. “And I’m sure you’re really sad right now, but you’re finally free to start living your own life. No more playing caregiver. Hell, if you’re determined to spread her ashes first, come with me to the beach. There’s a whole ocean at your disposal. She liked Rehoboth, didn’t she?”

Damian’s words rattle around my head like pennies in a can. “What is wrong with you? My mother died, and all you care about is what you think should happen next. You never asked what I want to do with my life! Maybe I don’t want to go to Penn State. Maybe I don’t want to go to college at all!” My voice creeps up another octave, and I draw in a deep breath before I inadvertently summon security to my room.

For two damn years, I’ve gone through the motions, desperate to keep my head above water while the tsunami washed over me. Staying with Damian was the easiest decision in a sea of impossible choices. I was lost and alone, and he was there. And for whatever reason, he wanted to be with me—maybe because I had no one else to cling to. Well, I don’t need to cling to anyone anymore. I’m finally standing on my own two feet.

“I can’t do this with you, Damian.”

“Fine.” He exhales in my ear. “Call me later.”

“Listen very carefully.” I speak slowly and clearly, so he fully comprehends this time. “We’re done. Over.”

“Are you seriously breaking up with me over the phone?”

The shock in his voice is almost comical, and I bite back a laugh.

“I should’ve done it a long time ago.” Relief washes over me, chasing away the bitter taste of disappointment. “Have a great life, Damian.”

“Come on, babe, I’m—”

I hit the end button, and the selfie Dash and I took under the giant guitar at Sun Studio smiles up at me from the screen. I drag the neck of his T-shirt to my nose and breathe in the lingering scent of fresh laundry detergent . . . and Dash. I have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but I’m ready for it, no matter what.

“Wow, you clean up nice.” Dash’s eyes light up as I slide in line behind him at the breakfast buffet. He focuses on my face, ignoring his Superman T-shirt and boxers hanging loosely from my slight frame.