The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys 1)

She lifted her eyes slowly, heavy with pain, and so tired. She kissed me on the cheek that burned.

“Just go,” she whispered. “Get to LA. Be amazing.”

I stared, first at her, then Chet smiling lazily, leaning against the kitchen counter as if it were his. Because now it was. I looked back to my mom, the words to tell her that her safety was more important. Her happiness. But she’d already turned and headed back down the hallway to her room in shuffling steps.

Chet’s beady eyes met mine. “You heard your mother. Go.”

So I went.

I opened the door with trembling hands and stepped outside on shaking legs. It closed behind me, and I heard the lock click.

In a half-daze, falling off an adrenaline high, I made my way to the Shack like a zombie. My face was on fire where it had scraped against my case, and my throat felt as if I’d swallowed a handful of rocks.

I stepped into the old rickety room. Holden had nailed a small mirror on the back wall. Or maybe it was Shiloh. She’d been hanging out here more, adding artistic touches here and there, making the place feel homey. The Shack was more of a home than my own.

I took a good look at myself in the mirror to examine my wounds. Fingerprints were darkening on my neck, and the area around my right eye was inflamed. Little scrapes of blood dashed my cheekbone. Anxiety jolted my stomach like an electric current.

I can’t go to LA looking like this. I can’t play for them like this…

Another terrible fear wracked me, lighting up my insides with panic. I quickly knelt in front of my guitar case and threw open the latches. With two hands, I gingerly pulled the guitar out and turned it over, inspecting it. A sigh of relief miles deep eased out of me, as I set it back in its case, whole and undamaged.

But the damage had been done. I looked exactly like what Chet had said. A dirt-poor kid who couldn’t manage to stay out of trouble long enough to make it through one important meeting.

The strength drained out of me, and I sat down hard on the wooden bench and stared at the ocean through the Shack’s lone window. The battle with Chet replayed in flashes, making me wince. But my mom’s defeated face scared me more.

The last thing I wanted to do was eat; but I took my insulin and choked down some food, every bite like a rock in my bruised windpipe. Panic lit me up all over again.

Jesus, what if I can’t sing?

I hummed a few bars, wincing at the pain. A few lyrics grated out. I cleared my throat and tried again, louder. For a few nerve-wracking minutes, I warmed up my voice until I could sing past the pain and sound like myself.

“Goddamn,” I murmured. Chet had almost ruined everything.

Maybe he did. They’re not going to want me either.

The last vestiges of adrenaline left me drained, and I laid my head on the table. The scents of salt and old wood and the sound of the ocean crashing and retreating soothed me like Mom’s perfume and lullabies used to when I was a kid. A lifetime ago.

A soft hand touched me awake. I opened heavy eyes to see Violet standing over me. She wore jeans and a baggie hoodie, no makeup, her hair in a ponytail.

So beautiful…

She smiled. “Hey, you. Napping before your—?” Her words cut off in a gasp as I sat up and the afternoon sunlight fell over my face. “Miller…My God, what happened?” She touched my chin, turning me toward her to get a better look and then bit back a little cry. “Your neck. Who did this to you? Chet?”

I nodded. “I’m okay. But shit, look at me. I can’t go to LA now.”

“Of course, you can,” she said fiercely, her voice wavering. “You can’t let him stop you.”

“I’m going to meet a high-level exec looking like this? It’s pathetic. I don’t want them to feel sorry for me.”

“They won’t. Not after you sing.” She pulled me to her, cradling my head against her soft sweatshirt.

“He kicked me out, Vi,” I said into her middle. “He kicked me out of the house.”

I was homeless for the second time in my life.

“No,” Violet said in a quavering voice. “He can’t do that.”

“He did. My mom is too scared and beat down to stand up to him. My only chance now is to go to LA, convince them to invest in me, and kick his ass out when I get back.”