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  And I didn’t know how to deal with that.

  I didn’t know how to deal with the fact that I was still here and they weren’t.

  It felt like no amount of therapy would change that.

  So yeah, I could enter the Talent Showdown and play my heart out, but I didn’t know how to do that without feeling guilty. The kind of guilt that paralyzed you, that buried itself so deep inside your soul you weren’t ever sure you’d get rid of it.

  “What?” Molly sat up, staring down at me with concern. “What is it?”

  “I’m…”

  She’ll understand, won’t she?

  But if she doesn’t…

  “I’m really lucky to have you,” I said, swallowing down the truth. Molly might have understood, but the truth would change things. It always did. So for now, I would pretend. I would paste on a smile and practice for the contest and let them all see what they wanted.

  A girl who had survived the odds and been granted a second chance at life.

  Even if she wasn’t sure yet how to live it.

  “This is nice,” Mom said.

  “It’s just the grocery store, Mom.” We’d driven into Ploughton to do some grocery shopping.

  “Yeah, but I’ve missed this.” She smiled at me. “Spendin’ time with you.”

  “We spend time together.” My brows furrowed.

  “We do, but I don’t know, sweetheart. Lately, it’s been, different. You’re different.” Her voice cracked and she let out a long sigh, no doubt collecting her thoughts. “It finally feels like we’re gettin’ you back, Eva. The old you.”

  I don’t know if she realized, but her hands had tightened around the shopping cart as we wandered up the aisle.

  “Mom.” I laid a hand on her arm, causing her to jerk to a stop. “I’m okay.”

  “Oh, Eva.” She swiped her eyes, inhaling deeply. “I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s fine, Mom. Let’s just get the groceries and maybe on the way home we can stop at Minty’s for sweet tea?”

  “That sounds like a fine idea, sweetheart. You can tell me all about your song for the regional.”

  I could give her that—sweet tea and idle talk about my song choice.

  “Okay, Mom.” I smiled. “It’s a deal.”

  We turned the corner to start down the next aisle but came to a stop when I saw Jenson Blaufield.

  “Oh look, there’s Jenson and his sweet old grandma.” Mom was already moving toward them before I could stop her.

  “Juliette,” she said warmly, “how lovely to see you.”

  “Jesse Walker, is that you?” Jenson’s grandma hobbled around on her stick, offering us a shaky smile. “It’s been a while, darlin’.”

  “Oh you know how it is, Jules.”

  “And would you look at you, Evangeline Star. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? Get over here and give me some sugar.” She opened her arms and I went grudgingly. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her, I did, but I didn’t want to be anywhere near her cheating dirtbag of a grandson.

  “Eva,” the dirtbag finally spoke, “it’s good to see you.”

  “Jenson.”

  “Mrs. Walker, it’s good to see you too.” He leaned in to kiss Mom’s cheek, causing her to blush. She always did have a soft spot for my ex-boyfriend. A soft spot that would’ve turned to a black hole of wrath if I’d have told her the truth. But Mom had enough to worry about, so I’d made up a story about us ending things amicably.

  “Eva, can we talk?”

  “Go, sweetheart.” Mom offered me a reassuring smile, not even giving me chance to protest. “I’ll finish up here and help Jules at the checkout. I’m sure you two have lots to catch up on.”

  We really didn’t.

  But Jenson gave me puppy dogs eyes, motioning for me to follow him. There had been a time those eyes would make me weak at the knees, now they only made a storm swell inside me.

  We walked to the front of the store in thick silence. “You look good, E,” he said as we stepped outside. “How are you?”

  “Alive,” I bit out without thinking.

  “Shit, Eva, that isn’t…” He almost choked on the words, and I felt smug watching him squirm. “I mean, I wasn’t… fuck, I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

  It lasted all of a minute and then I felt overcome with guilt.

  “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Things might have ended badly between us, but he didn’t deserve dying jokes, no one did.

  I wrapped my arms around my waist, holding myself together. It was one thing to come face to face with people you were friends with before, but it was another to come face to face with the boy you thought would be by your side through it all.

  “I tried to come and visit, when you were in the hospital. I sent flowers.”

  “I don’t even know what to say to that.” My voice rose as I fought back tears. I was lying in hospital alone and scared, my heart broken for more reason than one and he… sent flowers.

  “Shit, Eva, don’t cry. I’m not worth it.”

  Incredulous laughter gushed out of me. “You think these tears are for you?” I got all up in his face, jabbing my finger at his chest. “I was done cryin’ tears over you when you cheated on me three weeks into my treatment.”

  “It was a mistake, bab—” I leveled him with a hard look and the term of endearment died on his tongue. “I was scared and confused and—”

  “And Sheridan Black just fell on your dick?”

  I don’t know who was more surprised at my outburst, but I was just so angry.

  “Jesus, Eva…” Jenson raked a hand through his tousled hair, the tips lightened by the summer sun.

  “I needed you, Jenson. I was scared and confused and I needed you.” The dam broke and I sobbed violently into my hands, anger coursing through my veins like wildfire.

  Overwhelmed with the tsunami of emotions raging inside me, I barely had the energy to fight off Jenson when he pulled me into his strong arms. He felt so familiar, so safe and warm. And although I hated him, I couldn’t deny part of me missed him. Missed his touch.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay, E,” he whispered against my hair.

  “Let me go,” I ground out, slamming my hands into his chest. He staggered back, surprised, and shook his head with shame. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to comfort me. Not now, not ever, Jenson. I don’t need you.”

  I was already backing away, putting space between us. A couple of people slipped around us to enter the store, pretending not to watch. But I didn’t care. I’d been through worse than a few nosy bypassers.

  Survived worse.

  “E, come on.” He reached for me, but I ducked away and made a run for Mom’s car. I didn’t want to do this; not today, not ever. I’d filed Jenson Blaufield away with all the other things in my life I’d rather forget.

  “You can’t hide forever, E,” he called after me. “It’s a small town and school starts again soon.”

  As if I needed reminding.

  In a little over a month, I had to return to Ploughton High School for senior year. After the surgery and my recovery, there had only been a few months left of eleventh grade, and my parents, along with my doctor, decided it was probably for the best to keep me out of school. Just in case. But I’d officially been given the all clear in March. My stage four Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma was in remission. Which meant, for better or for worse, I had to return to class come August. Back to my friends who had forgotten about me; friends who had moved on when they realized I wasn’t coming back anytime soon. Back to an ex-boyfriend who couldn’t keep it in his pants. And back to classes which no longer seemed important.

  I guess that was another part of my survivor’s guilt. I was alive. I’d beaten cancer. Yet, I couldn’t seem to find it in me to be thankful or grateful or any of those things the doctors, my family, and Molly talked about.

  Because I didn’t get it.

  I didn’t get why I was still here and why
all those other kids weren’t.

  Mom said it meant it was God’s will, that he still had a plan for me. She genuinely believed I still had to make my mark on the world. But I wasn’t special. I wasn’t going to be the next First Lady, or campaign for world peace, or develop a cure for cancer.

  So why was I still here?

  It was a question I asked myself every second of every day.

  A question I wasn’t sure I’d ever find the answer to.

  “Holy freakin’ cow,” Molly burst into my bedroom. “You’ll never guess who they just announced as a guest judge for the Talent Showdown.”

  “Hmm, Blake Shelton?”

  “Think bigger.” Excitement rippled off her in infectious waves.

  Too bad I was immune.

  “Bigger than Blake?”

  She rolled her eyes at that. “You’re such a dork. Two words. Hudson Ryker.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “Of course you have.” Molly flounced down on my desk chair, spinning a three-sixty. “Drummer for Black Hearts Still Beat, only the hottest rock band on the planet right now.”

  “Rock band?” I scoffed. “They picked a rock star to judge a country music contest? That makes a whole bunch of sense said no one ever.”

  “Really, Eva, sometimes it’s like you’ve been livin’ under a rock. Black Hearts are huge. They’re already being hailed as the next Rolling Stones. They asked Hudson to sit on the judge’s panel because he was born in Klineville.”

  That got my attention.

  “He was? I don’t ever remember hearin’ his name.” Klineville was the next town over.

  “That’s because he moved before the band was founded, but his family still lives there. I guess they’re pullin’ him in to boost the status of the contest. And the band could do with some positive PR, they’re not exactly angels.”

  “Let me guess, sex, drugs and rock and roll?” My brow quirked up, teasing.

  “You really haven’t heard of them?”

  “I’ve been kinda preoccupied, Mol.” Guilt flashed over her face, and I instantly regretted saying the words. “Listen, I didn’t mean...”

  “I know.” She smiled, but it was strained. “Besides, music is a great distraction so don’t try to pull the, ‘I’ve been busy fightin’ cancer card’ with me.”

  And that’s why I loved her. Because even when things got heavy or awkward, Molly could lighten the mood. She wasn’t one to tiptoe around the C-word like most people. It was also partly why I’d agreed to do the Talent Showdown in the first place. To thank her for the way she’d stood by me through everything.

  Not that it would ever be enough.

  Pulling out her cell phone, Molly tapped the screen a few times before thrusting it at me. “Here.”

  I took it from her, watching the video come to life. A single figure was illuminated by candlelight, a low rumble of drums building in the background, the haunting voice of the singer rising over the top.

  “That’s Levi Hunter, the lead singer. He’s a lyrical genius.”

  “It’s...” I didn’t know how to describe the somber melody, the bone-chilling tone of his voice. “Dark.”

  “Straight out of the bowels of Hell, as my mom likes to say. She caught me listenin’ to their latest album the other week and almost had a conniption.”

  “He sounds in pain.”

  “He is in pain. The whole band has issues.”

  “Yeah, must be really hard bein’ rock’s next big thing.” I mocked, studying the band’s front man as he stalked across the screen. Slow and precise, he reminded me of a predator. A vampire maybe. Or some otherworldly creature.

  “He’s delicious, right?” Lust thickened her words.

  “That’s not exactly the first word that sprang to mind.”

  “Prude,” Molly smothered her laughter.

  “Am not. I just... he’s not my type.”

  I preferred my guys softer around the edges. Probably why I’d had a huge crush on Blake Sheldon since I was just a kid.

  “Levi Hunter is everyone’s type. Elusive. Ethereal. Dark and dangerous. I bet he’s a total freak between the—”

  “Enough.” I launched a pillow at her.

  “See, case in point.” She gave me a pointed look. “It’s been too long, babe. We need to get you out there, get you back on the horse.”

  “I was never on the horse,” I groaned the words.

  “But Jenson was—”

  “A mistake.” A giant mistake I wish I’d never have made. I’d given him the one part of me I could never get back. Because I foolishly thought he was the one.

  My forever love.

  It sounded so stupid now. I didn’t love Jenson. I loved the idea of him. I wanted what my parents had. The southern dream. Childhood sweethearts who were still going strong.

  Or, at least, I’d thought I did.

  “Hey, where’d you go?” Molly’s voice pulled me back into the room.

  “Nowhere.” I managed a weak smile.

  “You know, you should probably be practicin’. There’s not long until the regional.”

  “Maybe if you didn’t keep comin’ over here to distract me with videos of bad boy rock stars,” I smirked, “I’d get more done.”

  “So,” she snatched her cell phone and dropped it on the desk, “how’s it comin’?”

  “It’s... coming.”

  “Can I hear—”

  “No and no. I told you already, no early performance unless I make the final.”

  “Which you will.”

  “Yes, well, we’ll see. I’m just surprised I let you talk me into this.” The words came out light, but a heaviness descended over us.

  Molly’s brows furrowed. “You’re not ready.” She looked so disappointed my heart cracked.

  “Honestly? I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. It’s why I know I have to do this.”

  “I’m so freakin’ proud of you, and I know you don’t feel ready yet, but you’re going to kick ass at the showdown. Oh my god,” realization dawned over her face, “you’re goin’ to meet Hudson Ryker. Like actually meet him.”

  “Hmm, I guess.”

  “You have to let me be your person,” she rushed out.

  “My person?”

  “Yeah, backstage. I can hold your soda and fluff your hair and make sure you’re ready.”

  “Fluff my—”

  “And maybe we’ll bump into Hudson and you can introduce me and we’ll fall madly deeply in love and—”

  “Molly.”

  “Y- yeah?” Her eyes had clouded over.

  “Come back from fantasy land.”

  Her cheeks flamed. “Oopsie. It’s just so excitin’. I’ve never met a famous person before.”

  With a little shake of my head, I grinned at her. “You know you are though.” Molly frowned. “Oh, don’t play dumb with me,” I added, “You’re my person, Molly Steinberg, and of course I want you there when I perform.” Something told me I wouldn’t just want her there, I’d need her.

  She let out a little squeal of excitement. “For real? I’m your person?”

  “I thought about askin’ Kayleigh Magdiver but realized she probably wouldn’t know who Hudson Ryker is and well, I need that information.” I fought another smirk.

  “Bitch.” She threw the pillow back at me.

  “Hussy.”

  “For Hudson Ryker? Hells yeah!”

  We fell about in fits of laughter, and for the first time in a long time, I felt lighter. I felt like maybe I could do this.

  Like maybe I could find myself again in the darkness.

  Maybe.

  For the next three weeks, I practiced and practiced some more. I practiced until my fingers were sore and my arms felt heavy. I practiced until I went to sleep dreaming of chords and woke up humming lyrics. It was borderline obsessive. But I couldn’t seem to stop. The more I played, the more immersed I became with my music. And slowly, riff by riff, note by note, the pieces of my broken sou
l were being glued back together.

  I knew it was only temporary fix though.

  A Band-Aid on a wound that needed stitches. It would hold for a little while, but eventually it would require something stronger.

  Something more.

  But for now, it was enough.

  Music had always been my escape. A way to forget all the other stuff and just be in the moment. And I welcomed the reprieve. Even if I knew that once the showdown was over, reality would come crashing back down around me.

  Exhaling the final note, I stilled my hand over the strings.

  “Soundin’ great, sweetheart.” Dad entered the living room.

  “Uh, hi.” I smiled, caught off guard by his early return home from his job at ST Holdings, a local agricultural company. “I wasn’t expectin’ you back yet.”

  He gave me an easy smile. “Still feeling a little shy at performin’? You need to shake off those nerves soon, the regionals in less than a week.”

  “I know, Dad.” My lips pulled into a tight line. “I just...” I’d been practicing my original song. The one I still hadn’t let anyone hear.

  “Juice?” He disappeared through the archway dividing the living room with the kitchen.

  “Please,” I replied, stowing my guitar behind the couch.

  “Here you go.” Dad came over and handed me the glass. “I’m sorry if I surprised you,” he said, his expression hardening.

  “Dad?”

  “It’s bad news, sweetheart.” He dragged a hand down his face, worry lines crinkling his eyes.

  “They’re lettin’ you go?” My heart sank.

  “No, no. But they’re makin’ cuts and can’t offer me full-time hours anymore.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad.” Guilt coiled around my heart.

  “Now, now, Eva, none of that. We’ve been over this. None of this is your fault.”

  But it was.

  If I hadn’t gotten sick, Dad wouldn’t have lost his job at the Soya Corp, one of the area’s largest soybean producers, and ended up working a much less paid job at ST Holdings.

  “Somethin’ new will come up, it always does.” He yanked open the newspaper and began reading it as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb.

  It was another reason I’d become so obsessed about the showdown. The more I practiced, the more I realized that maybe I did have a shot at the final. Winning that prize check would pay Mom and Dad back twice over.