“No.” He reaches for my hand. Squeezes it tight. “I know. The only one who cursed Glory was Glory.”

He leans down to kiss the top of my head, and I have this sudden flash of terror. Almost like a vision. Or a premonition.

Something terrible is going to happen tonight. To me.

Or to Cole.

But I don’t have time to think about any of that, because the lights are going down and I’m moving into my spot.

I sit on the bench center stage and shed my Avril skin, the way you slip off a robe before you step into the shower. I let the Eden thoughts replace the Avril thoughts, and I embrace all the places where they overlap. I let the edges melt together.

I’m sitting on the bench. Waiting for Cole to find me.

Because he will. He always does.

That’s the only thought I keep. I let the others drift away like ashes rising into the wind.

I’m waiting for Cole.

I’m always waiting for Cole Culver to find me.

Always.

Then the lights come up. And we’re off.

The show is going so well. The audience is eating out of our hands. And it feels so good. Because every single minute, scene by scene, I’m falling so in love with Cole over and over again. That dark wavy hair. And those gray eyes. By the time we get to the dance scene, where Eden admits she’s in love, I don’t know which one of us is more head over heels. Me. Or her. But I know when Eden tells Orion, that’s me telling Cole, too.

I feel so open. Like every part of me is exposed. And it’s the most amazing feeling. To be standing in the spotlight like that. No secrets. No hiding in the shadows.

But doing the show is also strange. Because each time I hear that song—Eden’s melody—it pulls a little harder on my mind. It’s like my memories are threads, and instead of plucking guitar strings, Cole is tugging on those threads each time he starts to play. He’s undoing me, bit by bit. Through all of act one, the longing for my mother builds and builds with each chord of that song. I feel the truth floating up, closer and closer to the surface. I can almost lean down and grab it.

Almost.

But then it sinks just out of reach again.

I can’t focus on remembering, though. Can’t focus on me. Not now. I have to focus on Eden. All I can do is let my mind work in the background.

And maybe that’s why it finally comes to me. Because I’m just living inside the notes of that song. Experiencing it. Not trying to remember. Not trying to force it.