I laugh. “Bass is the one who plays his guitar at all hours. You might want to soundproof his room.”

He nudges me. “I thought you loved my guitar playing.”

“I do. And I’ll miss it.”

“Are you moving out of New York?” Brooke asks. “Is that why Bass needs to find another roommate?”

Sawyer and I look at each other, just now realizing his blunder. We hadn’t yet announced to anyone that we were going to live together.

“Uh, well we have to move out of the building because they are going to demo it and –” I try to think of a quick excuse.

“Oh, my God, are you moving in with Sawyer?” Jordan squeals, looking between the two of us.

Sawyer pulls me close and kisses my forehead. “It’s fine,” he says to me and the others. “We weren’t going to tell anyone for a while, but yes.”

“But I thought you broke up,” Jordan says.

“Don’t believe everything you read,” Sawyer tells her. Then he raises his glass. “Since the cat is out of the bag, I guess we have a lot to celebrate,” he says, loudly. “I’d like to make a toast.”

Several groups of people surrounding us stop talking and turn around to listen to Sawyer speak.

“I’d like to toast this incredible woman standing next to me. At twenty-three, she’s been through a lot, yet here she is graduating from one of the most prestigious music schools in the world.” He takes in a deep breath and winks at me. “It’s no wonder I’m in love with her.”

What. The. Fuck?

Gasps are heard all around us and I think I hear Bass choke on his drink.

“So lift a glass with me and drink to Aspen Andrews,” Sawyer says.

“Here here!” many people say as they all take a drink.

Then it feels like the room goes completely silent. He’s stunned them. He’s stunned me. The difference is, most of them think this is real.

Sawyer leans down and kisses me. Then he whispers, “This is when you say it back. Everyone’s listening.”

“I – I love you, too, Sawyer,” I say with shaky words that may have just been barely loud enough for those standing around us to hear.

People erupt in cheers. Snapshots and videos of us are being taken from dozens of cameras. No doubt his toast – and thereby his declaration of love for me – will be on YouTube, TMZ and probably ESPN by night’s end.

Then I realize how pathetic I am. I’ve just said the truest words I’ve ever spoken, yet this is all a lie.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” I say so only he can hear.

“Had to redeem myself after the shitstorm I caused last weekend.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t your fault.”

“It wasn’t, but I still needed to do damage control.”

He leans down and kisses me again. I let him. Of course I let him. I melt into him. I let him wrap me in his arms and hold me.

And as he holds me like I’ve dreamed of being held, it dawns on me that just like my brother has, I’ve been handed a sentence. I’m sentenced to five more months of torture being in the arms of the man I love who will never love me back. And Sawyer’s house will be my prison.

Chapter Twenty-one

Sawyer

“I know you love baseball,” she says. “And if that’s your dream, I want it for you. But remember to be kind, Sawyer. Be kind to yourself. Be kind to others. If you do that, everything else in your life will fall into place.”

I nod my head. “Okay, Mom.” But I know she’s lying. Things don’t work out that way. She’s the kindest person I know, but even at ten years old, I know her life didn’t ‘fall into place.’ I may be young, but I’m not stupid. I know how things are.

“Do you remember the story of the caterpillar?” she asks.

I do. She’s told it to me a dozen times. But I want her to tell it again, so I shake my head.

“Baby caterpillars eat and eat and eat. They stuff themselves with leaves and get as big as they can. Then they find a safe place, usually on a stick, and they make a cocoon. Inside the cocoon, they go through a transformation. The caterpillar dissolves into a soupy substance and then rebuilds itself into a new body. But this transformation is not easy. It has to struggle. And it becomes exhausted, because apparently becoming a butterfly is hard work. But then something wonderous happens, it emerges from its cocoon as a beautiful creature with colorful wings. And it can fly. It can go anywhere and do anything. It becomes free.”

She squeezes my hand extra hard and she starts to cry. It looks like she can’t breathe very well.

“Mommy, are you okay?”

“I’m going to be a butterfly soon, my sweet boy. So I never want you to worry about me. I’ve had my struggle and now I’m going to get my wings. I’m going to be free.”

I want to ask her what she means. I think maybe she’s confused. She’s said things today that don’t make any sense. But before I can ask her, the nurse comes in and tells me I need to leave for a minute.

I go down the hall to the chapel where my dad likes to sit when he’s not in the room with my mom. I open the door and see him praying on the bench in the front. He knows how to pray because we go to church sometimes. But I don’t get why he’s praying. What does God have to do with any of this?

I scoot onto the bench next to him and put my hands together and ask God to make Mommy feel better. Then I ask God to make Daddy sick in the hospital bed instead of her. But I know He won’t listen. He never does. I’ve prayed so many times that I ran out of prayers.

I hear the doors open behind me and turn around to see a nurse nodding to my dad. Then Daddy cries out like someone just hurt him. He grabs my hand and pulls me back to Mommy’s room. But when I get there, she’s lying flat on the bed and her eyes are closed and she looks … different.

Daddy walks over and collapses down onto her. I worry that he will hurt her, but when he gathers her into his arms, she still doesn’t move. Her arms are like those of a rag doll. He cries into her hair.

The nurse comes up next to me and pulls me to her. “I’m so sorry,” she says.

I wonder why she’s sorry.

Then a man in a white coat walks into the room. I think he’s Mommy’s doctor. He makes Daddy put her down and he uses that thing around his neck that goes in his ears. He puts the other end over Mommy’s heart. He looks at me sadly before he glances at the clock on the wall and says, “Time of death: ten forty-three.”

Death? I look around the room to see everyone looking sad. My dad is still crying. I run over to Mommy to try and wake her up, but she doesn’t move and her skin isn’t warm like it usually is.

The doctor puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, son.”

I remember the TV show I saw last week where someone died. She looks just like that person did.

Mommy died? She’s dead?

I look at Daddy and get my answer. He looks awful. I’ve never seen him look so sad. My tummy starts to feel really bad and I need to get away from this. From him.

I run down the hallway until I find the stairs. Then I run down the stairs and out the front doors of the hospital where I throw-up into the bushes. He doesn’t run after me. I’m glad he doesn’t. It’s all his fault and I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to go home with him. She was the only good thing about home. But I’m only ten. I know I don’t have a choice.

I look around the parking lot. I’m not sure what for, a place to hide maybe. I see some kids like me, walking beside their mothers and it makes me cry even harder. I’ll never get to walk next to her again.

And I’m mad at myself. If I had known when I saw her this morning that those were the last words I’d ever say to her, I would have made them better words. But I think she knew they were our last. She wouldn’t let go of my hand. She knew she was going to die and she didn’t tell me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see something fluttering around. I turn to see a beautiful orange and yellow butterfly. It flies around the flowers by the sidewalk, then it flies around my head. It flies around my head for a long time. Then I watch it fly away. I squint hard and watch until I can’t see it anymore.

Then I smile.

I smile because Mommy is a butterfly.

~ ~ ~

Hands on my body startle me and I lash out. Then I hear a cry and a thump. I sit up quickly and try to orient myself. I look around. I’m at Aspen’s. I look down at the floor and see Aspen in the darkness holding her cheek.

“Fuck. What happened?”

She shakes her head. “I’m okay. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you while you were sleeping. You got me with your elbow.”

A sick feeling washes over me as I help her up onto the couch. I reach over and turn on the light. “Let me see.”

“It’s fine,” she says. “You barely got me.”

I jump up and go to her freezer in search of something to put on her cheek. I return with a bag of frozen broccoli. I sit next to her and press it to the red spot under her eye.

She tries to take the bag from me, but I don’t let her. “Let me do it,” I say.

Her lips curve up into a smile. “Is this you taking care of me?”

I shake my head, disgusted with myself. “This never should have happened.”

“It’s my fault,” she says. “I heard a noise coming from the living room. It sounded like …”

She’s afraid to tell me.

“It sounded like what?” I ask.

“It sounded like you were crying, Sawyer.”

“That’s ridiculous. I don’t cry.”

“I guess you were having a dream,” she says.

I shrug. I know I dream about my mom a lot. But no way do I cry. Aspen has obviously been hearing things.

I pull the bag away from her face, relieved to see there isn’t any swelling.

She reaches up to touch her cheek. “See, I told you it was nothing.”