“Because someone told me the truth about how I really sounded.”

Cricket sits up in Hunter’s arms, sloshing wine over the rim of her tumbler. “Wait a minute. Are you telling me that piece of shit convinced you that you were bad? If he weren’t dead, I’d kill him right now.” Hunter has to wrap an arm around Cricket to keep her from charging toward me.

“Babe, give her some space.”

Behind me, Lincoln stiffens, and I want to end this whole conversation as quickly as it started. And there’s one really good way to do that—humiliate myself in front of all of them. At least it’ll ensure that they never ask again.

I gulp down half my wine and rise to my feet.

“Blue—”

I turn away from the fire, facing the swift winds rising off the ocean, and wave a hand behind me to stop Lincoln from doing whatever he’s about to do.

I close my eyes and start quietly, sending my voice into the darkness with the heat of the fire and their gazes on my back.

“I never wanted to be stronger.

I just wanted to be yours.

To steal a little longer . . .”

Gaining a little more courage as my voice seemed to be carried away by the breeze, I keep going, diving into the first verse of the song I’ve been working on for days.

I raise my tumbler as I hit the chorus again. And then the bridge.

By the time I finish, I’m convinced that no one heard me, and only the waves experienced the voice I’ve learned to keep hidden. But when I turn around, I know I’m wrong.

Cricket’s smile threatens to break her face, and tears shine in her eyes. Hunter starts a slow clap, and suddenly, I’m terrified to look at Lincoln.

“Blue . . . why didn’t you tell me?”

His voice is a beacon for my gaze. He’s already standing, his body tense. And his face . . . there’s something so pure shining on it, I’m afraid to believe it’s real.

Pride.

“You sound . . . you’re incredible,” he says.

Cricket claps louder than Hunter. “She’s a goddamn angel who’s been silenced for too long.”

Lincoln walks toward me, dodging the fire. When he stops in front of me, his palms curve around my cheeks.

“You were amazing before, but you need to know that whatever you’ve thought all these years about your voice—it was wrong. I don’t have to love you to know how special your talent is.”

Tears trickle down my cheeks, and Lincoln wipes them away with his thumbs.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

Forty

Lincoln

I could kill Rango for what he did to Whitney. Fucking kill him.

Feeling her body vibrate with fear gutted me and made me wish I could take back my request. Watching her rise, her posture stiff and uncomfortable, made me want to snatch her back into my arms where I could keep her safe.