"W-What did he want?" I asked.

"Noah Hardy has requested us to conduct his first interview to the press about the festival. He says he has developments that the public hasn't heard, and he wants us to be the ones to present it to them-exclusively. Every single f.u.c.king news outlet that wants to talk about Noah Hardy is going to be running your byline."

Time stopped. The breath in my chest was all I could hear. "He... he what?"

"Specifically, Laurel, Noah Hardy has asked to speak to you. And only you. Those were the conditions of his interview."

Heart racing, Domino's words were difficult to wrap my head around. "This is a joke, right? Noah wants to talk to me-wants to give me an interview?"

"If you're still in town to take it. He wants to give it today."

"Yes, I'm still in town," I said. "I... I'll do it. Of course I'll do it."

"Of course you'll do it," she repeated, "I don't remember offering you a choice. You ready to write down these instructions?"

~ Twenty-One ~

Noah

I was already waiting on the beach by the time Laurel arrived. Actually, I had been on the beach for hours, ever since I left the label's office in Seattle. Gavin took my instructions to call the Slipstream Magazine offices in New York and speak with Laurel's editor. The tactic felt a little dramatic, but part of me knew that Laurel was swimming in an ocean of guilt right now, and just like I needed Quinn and Gavin, she was going to need her best allies to convince her to get back up and fight.

Still, there was no guarantee she would take the invitation. She had no idea what state I was in. And I wouldn't have blamed her if she pa.s.sed it off to some other writer after everything that had happened. But I knew I had to try-both for her, and myself. Laurel always seemed to reward my effort.

She came down the hill toward me, sitting on the driftwood log by the river. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and her face looked like she hadn't had a very good few nights. It had the unmistakable puffiness of someone who had been crying, and my heart ached at the thought. It ached even more when I saw she was again wearing my sweatshirt, too big for her frame, wrapping her halfway down her thighs and almost over her hands.

I stood up as she approached, hands in my pockets. She looked almost afraid as she approached, like she thought I was going to announce this was all a f.u.c.ked-up prank to hurt her. I didn't move; I let her come to me. Laurel was a shark, like me, and I knew what people had to do to get me to listen; so that was what I did for her. I let her get her bearings and approach on her terms. The rush of the river overlaid our silence.

"Hey," she said, stepping to the driftwood.

"Hi," I replied. We stared at each other with wet, unsure eyes.

Laurel swallowed and looked around. "Domino asked me to meet you here..."

I nodded. "It's for real. I asked for you."

"Okay," she said. "So, what do you want to..."

"Why don't you sit down, and we can just start the interview?" I said, waving a hand over half of the driftwood log. "Did you bring your recorder?"

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and followed me. I straddled the giant log to face her, while she hiked one thigh up side-saddle and turned toward me. Wispy strands of pale blonde hair drifted around her face in the light wind.

Laurel activated the recording app and held the phone out in her hand between us. She stared at me and took a few breaths before she began.

"Noah... tell me what happened that day at the festival."

Even though I was ready for it-I had asked for it-a stone still sat in my gut at the thought of talking about that day. But I looked in Laurel's face and it became easier. "Our set started late afternoon. I'd had a few beers with some of the other bands backstage, but I wasn't plastered like some of the reports are saying. People don't understand how much booze it takes for a guy my size to get drunk. Anyway..." I cleared my throat. "The set started out fine, everything was normal. We had a few lady fans brought up on stage during 'Locusta,' like we always did-they were local contest winners, if I remember right. Security got them on and off without a problem. But it was a few songs later when I saw somebody in the pit."

Laurel's face crinkled with worry. She hadn't heard the story this complete. No one had.

"The photographers had already cleared out, and n.o.body had started crowd-surfing yet, so I thought it was off to have someone that close to the stage. Everything seemed to move in slow motion after that. Suddenly he wasn't near the stage, he was crawling up and onto it. He didn't look happy, or excited, or drunk. He was just staring at Quinn."

I had to take a pause and a breath. The sound of the river rushing helped to soothe my anxiety.

"I was already moving to confront the guy when I saw the knife in his hand, and that just made me move faster. Quinn wasn't even paying attention. I just hit the guy with all the strength I had to knock him off his feet and make him lose his weapon. Security could deal with him after that. But when I hit him, he just kept falling. The sound of his head hitting that beam, even through the sound of the music... I still hear it in my sleep."

Tears dripped down Laurel's face. Her chest rose and fell with her ragged breathing.

"Then it was just chaos. They rushed us offstage, cancelled the rest of the main stage sets. We were stuck on our bus with no information until the head of security and a police detective came to tell us the man had died. And... that was the moment everything just started to fall apart."

Laurel asked in a shaking voice, "Did you tell the police about what you saw?"

"I told the police. I told security. I told my manager and my band," I said. "But no one else had seen the knife, and the police couldn't find any evidence that it existed. Only my manager and Quinn believed me, in the end." After a pause, I said. "And you, Laurel. You believed me."

Her face got sad, and she held back tears. She looked down a minute to gain her composure and continued. "Why did your bandmates abandon you?"

Hearing it said so starkly made my heart hurt. "I don't know," I said. "Tensions were high after the festival, obviously. I'm not an idiot. I know what my reputation is, and those boys had dealt with missing shows because I couldn't get out of a jail cell fast enough, or being too hungover, or whatever. Me f.u.c.king things up isn't that rare a happening, if you catch my drift."

"But this time, you hadn't."

"This time, I hadn't. This time, I was in the right. And I thought they would be able to see the truth of that. But Jeff, Ash... they didn't."

"What about Duke Rogers?"

I couldn't wait until I never had to hear his name again. "Duke, well... Duke has goals. And he's not going to let anyone stand in the way of those goals. In this case, it fit his goals to believe I was an animal capable of murdering an innocent man for no reason."

"So you're not upset with Duke for what he did?"

"I was," I admitted. "Very upset. But the last few days have been very... eye-opening for me."

Laurel flushed.

"I feel like I'm seeing things more clearly now. And as strange as it sounds, I don't think what Duke did was personal. I don't think he ever cared about me enough to make this personal. I think he only ever saw me as a ladder to a better place-a ladder he's all too happy to kick out when he's done using it. I'm not mad at Duke, but I pity him. I look at the relationships I've found because of my love of music, relationships that exist because of vulnerability... of willingness to be human. Duke may love music as much as me, but he will never have that. I feel sorry for him."

Laurel wiped the tears on her face with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. The gesture made me smile.

"What happens to you now, Noah? What happens to the band?" she asked.

"Cut Up Angels is done," I said. "This was a hit we can't survive. I'm putting it out of its misery. The legal s.h.i.t will get worked out, and Quinn and I will find another project to work on."

Laurel paused and swallowed. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be," I said. "Bands break up all the time, and new ones get formed. I'll find something different to do. Maybe it's time I head back to my hardcore roots."

She smiled, still teary. After a second she got her bearing and cleared her throat. "I, uh... is there anything else you want to include or say? Anything you want the public to know?"

"Yeah. I want to publically apologize to my band... well, mostly ex-bandmates... and our loyal manager, Gavin Jones, for them having to go through this. They may not have stood by me, but they did in earlier years, when I did stupid s.h.i.t just for the h.e.l.l of it. They still made music with me, anyway. And if I'd had my way, this wouldn't be how we ended. So I'm sorry for that.

"And I want to thank the people who believed me through this ordeal when everyone else had thrown me to the wolves. Quinn, who has never let me down and never let me fight on my own; Kevin, an old friend and mentor; Gavin, who has done some of the finest work for this band and always looked out for us; and you, Laurel. I want to thank you for believing me."

Laurel's eyes widened, her body tensing.

"You had no reason to believe me," I said. "You didn't know me. You had heard the same bulls.h.i.t stories everyone else has. But you came here, and you met me... and you believed me. And then you went out and saved my f.u.c.king life. And I owe you everything. That's why I wanted to give this to you. You earned your success."

Laurel's mouth dropped open as her cheeks flushed pink. No doubt she hadn't expected how much thinking I had been doing about what had happened. After the fury pa.s.sed, and after the confrontation with Duke and the band was finally over, the impending charges wiped away from my future, my mind was able to focus on Laurel. Really, though, my mind never stopped focusing on Laurel. Even after what she had done, every bone in my body ached for her touch again.

"I... I was just doing my job," said Laurel, but the way she frowned, it was like she didn't believe her own words-like she was reciting some script.

"Were you?" I asked.

She looked at my expression and searched it with her gaze. With a glance down at the recording phone in her hand, she couldn't help herself. "Am I the one giving the interview, here, or are you?" The ghost of a smirk appeared in the corner of her mouth, and warmth spread through my body at the sight of it.

"Make it one of my conditions," I said. "Quid pro quo."

"Does that make you Hannibal Lecter?" she joked, sniffling as she did.

"Will your magazine print a joke as dirty as the one I want to make right now about eating you?" I said with a grin.

Laurel laughed, a real, full laugh, her eyes bright. "Ask me whatever you want."

I slid a little closer to her on the driftwood trunk. "What made you want to come do this story on me?"

She licked her lips. "Timing," she said. "I'd f.u.c.ked up pretty hard on my last one. I wanted something big to get me out of the proverbial ditch I'd fallen into... and then Sun Fest happened. With the press moratorium, this was my only play, but I had to try, so..."

"So if you had been a hardcore guitarist instead of a journalist, you'd be the dude who climbs up on the highest cabs to stage dive from, is that what you're saying? Go big, or go home?"

The comparison made her laugh and blush. "Well, when you put it that way, I sound insufferable."

"You want the big prizes," I said. "I can relate."

"Yeah, I suppose," she said. "And your story was the biggest prize."

I took a beat, and a breath. "Did you come here thinking I was guilty?"

Laurel looked sad. "Well... yeah. Everyone did. The videos were... they were pretty hard to fight. But, even that first night in the Graveyard Club, I had already started to question the narrative that was playing out. There was something about you, Noah... even talking to you, the real you, for just a few moments, made it perfectly clear that you were not the man everyone thought you were."

My chest welled up with emotion and ache for her. I'd never heard a woman talk about me like that. None of them ever seemed to see past the surface. But it hadn't fooled Laurel for even a moment, once she got close enough. She really was flawless.

"Every day I spent with you just made it clearer," she said softly.

I slid closer to her, close enough to wrap her legs in mine. Laurel's eyes welled up with tears the closer I came, and when we touched began to cry in earnest. I took her free hand in both of mine.

"Did you tell the truth when you were with me?" I asked. "Is the Laurel I've fallen in love with the real woman?"

Laurel looked up into my eyes, amazed. I lifted a hand to wipe the tears from under cheek.

"Yes," she said in a desperate exhale. "Yes, Noah. You didn't know me from Eve. I had no reason to lie about all of that. And from the second you sat down next to me at the bar and complimented my shirt, I wanted you to know everything about me. I don't know why... but I did." She placed her hand over mine as I caressed her face. "I never lied about any of it. And I never lied about how much I care about you."

"After you told me who you were, I was so afraid I had trusted the wrong woman again," I said, pressing my forehead against hers. "But then all I could think about was... was that you had given up your story for me. This was huge for you, and you just walked away from it. I tried to imagine a single time in my life I've ever done that for someone, and I couldn't f.u.c.king do it. You're an incredible woman, Laurel."

"Noah..." she whimpered, tearing up again.

"You proved you cared for me. You sacrificed to protect me, Laurel. I can count on one hand the number of people that have ever done that for me before."

"And I can count the same number of times I've sacrificed," she said. "I don't know why you think I'm incredible, Noah. I've never sacrificed for anyone before. I've always been focused on my own career, my own plans... and I've never felt guilty for any of it. But with you, I couldn't. After I got the video, all I could think about was... a.s.shole tourists overwhelming the Graveyard Club and driving Kevin insane or turning his baby into something horrible... you, having to move out of your hometown or duck around getting hara.s.sed all the time, having no peace to find your new path... I saw everything I was about to destroy, even though I thought I was doing something good. And I couldn't do it to you, Noah. You deserve nothing but peace in this world. You've sacrificed for everyone and asked for nothing."

Every word she spoke felt like it was shattering the cold, dark walls I had built around my heart for so many lonely years. I enfolded Laurel in my arms and drew her softly into my chest. She threw her arms around me and dug her face into my shoulder, crying.

"Noah, I love you," she said against my neck. "I love you."

I closed my eyes, overwhelmed. My muscles shook inside me at the sound of her words, and I grasped her close to me. "I love you too, Laurel. I've never felt this way about anyone before."

"Can you ever really forgive me?" she sobbed. "I want you to believe me."

"I do. I believe you," I said and dropped a kiss on her lips. She returned it hungrily, pulling my face down to meet hers.

After a few minutes of tender kissing, Laurel realized her phone was still recording, dangling in her left hand behind my neck, and she laughed and brought it forward. "I should probably not include the making out in the write-up."

"I don't know, it might be just what Slipstream is lacking," I said with a wink. "s.e.x sells, right?"

She turned the recording off and looked up at me. "I'm going to have to go back to New York, at least for a bit, and finish this up."

"And then what?"

Laurel smiled shyly. "And then... then I'm coming right back here. For a long while."

"I think I might know someone who can show you around," I said.

She kissed me again and didn't stop until her phone was chiming, the call of an incoming message. Laurel pulled away from my mouth and looked at her phone with an annoyed grunt.

"Just one sec, it's my partner from the magazine." A few finger swipes later, she pulled up his message and let out a laugh with a shake of her head.

She held up the phone to me, and displayed a photo of a fit dude with short-cropped hair sitting in a cozy dark blue first cla.s.s airline seat. In each hand, he held a full mimosa, and grinned at the camera behind sungla.s.ses like he had won the lottery.

"I guess I missed my flight," she said, stuffing the phone in her pocket. She looked up at me with l.u.s.tful, curious eyes.

As I ran my hands up her thighs, I said, "Well, what's to be done about that?"