I shake my head. I’m having trouble getting my breathing under control. I hear the blow dryer come on in the bathroom. I try to focus on the noise. Sometimes that helps.
“You’re okay, Daisy,” Paige says, her voice soothing. “Everything is fine.”
“It’s not,” I gasp out. “I can’t wear this. I can’t wear any… anything without…” I hold up my arms, wanting her to understand. “I need sleeves.”
Her face clouds in confusion. “What do you mean? You have great arms—” Her eyes widen.
She’s quiet for a moment, and the panic redoubles in my chest. I don’t want her to know, I don’t want anyone to know, and I really, really need her to stop looking at me.
“No biggie,” she suddenly says, standing up. “I have just the thing.”
She casually walks to her bag as if she hasn’t just discovered my biggest secret and roots through it. I stare at her back, totally shocked by her reaction. When she turns around, she’s holding something small and black. Her face is kind, unworried. I see no pity or fear or disgust there.
“Here we go,” she says, sitting next to me again.
She gently takes my hand and pulls it onto her lap, leaning over slightly so she can snap the leather cuff around my wrist. The cuff is black and imprinted with swirling designs. A delicate black braiding is laced around the edges. It’s perfect, the kind of thing I could wear every day if I wanted. She snaps a matching one on my other wrist. Best of all, they completely cover the jagged scars.
“Better?” she asks.
I look up at her, overwhelmed and so grateful.
Her smile fades, replaced by a fierceness in her eyes I’ve never seen before. “I’m so glad you’re here, Daisy,” she says quietly.
I know in my heart she doesn’t just mean here with them in Boston. I nod, my throat full of tears, and her smile returns.
I’ve spent so much time ashamed of those scars, of what they said about me. Now, looking at my bare arms adorned with Paige’s jewelry, I feel a weight lift from my chest. Something shifts inside me, some awareness of myself and my own strength. She starts to get up, and I grab her hand—the first time I’ve willingly initiated contact with another person since the day my father had me admitted to Horizons Recovery Hospital.
“Thank you,” I whisper, hoping she knows how big a thank you it is, how many kindnesses it covers. I had come to think of all humans as cruel, as calculating and selfish, to be feared and never trusted. Then I met Paige. It’s not every day someone so completely restores your faith in humanity.
Paige flashes her now-familiar cheery smile. “You’re very welcome.”
Chapter Twelve
Daltrey
I’m pretty sure I’m going to kill my dad. Or maybe I’ll quit the band or punch one of my brothers. I have to do something because I’m starting to feel as though I’m going crazy. It’s now six forty-five, fifteen minutes before I’m supposed to meet Daisy, and we’re still in this interview in the green room—an interview my father promised me would be cancelled. He either forgot or straight-up lied. Either way, it’s looking as though I’m not going to be seeing Daisy before the show.
I step away from the interviewer and motion to Levi out on the stage. Cash is talking, so I figure I’m okay, though Reed shoots me a death glare.
“What’s up, man?” Levi asks.
“Can you do me a favor?”
“Sure. I was just going to head out to look for Daisy and her friends. Seven, right?”
I shake my head, the anger swelling in my chest. “Yeah, about that. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get away before the show. Can you take her and her friends to the dressing room and make sure they have food and stuff to drink?”
“Sure, dude. No problem.”
I look at my watch again. “Shit. And if I don’t get back there in an hour, take them to the reserved seats upstairs, okay?”
“On it.”
Levi heads out, and I return to my brothers, smiling apologetically at the reporter while I seethe inside.
I’ve been looking forward to this show for the past week, ever since Daisy called to confirm that she was, in fact, coming to see me. Strangely, after that call, I started sleeping better. The old nightmare, the one where she was hurt somewhere and I couldn’t find her, hasn’t returned all week. Not having to worry about what happened to her when she disappeared from my life lifted a weight from my shoulders that I barely noticed I was carrying.
I was angry when I got her email, really ticked off. The fact that she didn’t even realize how much she had put me through truly ticked me off. And I’m still mad now… a little.