“About what?”
“Hannah’s Hope is in honor of his mother. Surely that means something to him.”
“In other words, you want him to trot out his grief and parade it around to reassure the citizens of Vista del Mar.”
“That’s not what I said.” She poked the scrubber in his direction, wielding it like a sword. “You’re being obtuse.”
“Excuse me if I don’t think Rafe talking about his mother is going to make anyone feel any better at all.”
“How can you not have sympathy for these people? They need someone to stand up for them. They need an advocate. They feel helpless in the face of Rafe’s power. And if you could just imagine what that feels like—”
Tired of waiting to be swatted with that damn scrubber, he snatched it out of her hand and tossed it on the counter, out of her reach. “Don’t think for a minute that I don’t know what it feels like to be helpless and scared. I know all about that.” His tone was harsh. His voice foreign to his own ears. “If you think the threat of losing your job is scary, well, I gotta tell you, it’s nothing compared to the fear of losing your wife. So I know all too well what fear is like and the kinds of things it does to you.”
Ana looked up at him, her eyes wide and filled with anguish. For a second, he thought she might even cry. Or maybe apologize. He didn’t think he’d be able to stomach either of those reactions.
But instead, she wrapped her arms around her waist as if she were unbearably cold. When she spoke, her tone was brittle and bruised. “It always comes back to her, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” The anger that had been so close to the surface just a second ago faded.
She continued talking, almost as if she hadn’t heard him. “Everything always comes back to her. Cara’s right there under the surface. No matter what else is going on in your life. You won’t push Rafe to trot out his grief in public, because you’ve never gotten over having grieved for her that way.” Ana sucked in a deep breath, like she need strength to continue. “You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like to lose a spouse to cancer. I hope I never know what that’s like. But I can’t be in a relationship with someone whose entire existence is centered around that one experience.”
“That’s not true,” he said, trying to deny it.
“Then why haven’t you sold the house? Why haven’t you gotten rid of her sunglasses? Or her art collections? Why don’t you play the Alvarez?” She met his gaze, her own eyes wide and tearful. “I can’t do this anymore. I think you should leave.”
What could he say to that? He could hardly beg her to reconsider. Not when he knew she was making the right decision for herself. All he could do was nod and say, “Fair enough.”
“Ward, I’m—”
He abruptly let her go and turned away.
“—sorry.”
And with that, he stormed out, before his anger really got the better of him. He didn’t take any comfort in knowing that he’d done right by Hannah’s Hope. In knowing that even if he’d hurt her, he’d done right by her, too. He’d seen the flash of pain in her eyes. Heard the anguish in her voice.
He’d pushed her away. Maybe that’s what he’d been trying to do all along. Either way, he was pretty sure he’d just done a bang up job of crushing the rose.
The day after the barbecue at Ana’s uncle’s home, Ward found Ricky’s house about three blocks away. The tiny bungalow where Ricky lived with his mother sat on a scorched swath of dead grass with a rusting bike in the front yard and an even rustier late-model compact car at the curb.
Though Ward had been up since his dawn run on the beach, he waited until after ten to drop by Ricky’s house. There were some things even stardom couldn’t excuse and Ward knew from experience that waking up a night owl too early was one of them.
Ricky answered the door after the first knock, dressed in his standard baggy jeans and sweatshirt. He appeared to have just woken up, despite the fact that it was a school day. Ricky made a shushing gesture as he nodded toward what was obviously a back bedroom, then led him back to the kitchen where a box of cereal sat open beside an empty bowl.
Ricky slid the kitchen door closed and said, “Mi mamá is still sleeping. She got a job on the cleaning crew at the plant.”
“That’s great.”
Ricky gave a defeated shrug. “As long as the plant stays open.”
Ward didn’t want to say how unlikely he feared that would be. Instead, he asked, “Why aren’t you in school? I thought you said you wouldn’t skip anymore.”
“It’s a teacher work day.” Ricky held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “I swear!” He poured some cereal into his bowl and shoveled a spoonful into his mouth. As an afterthought, he raised the box up in silent offer.
“No, thanks.” The sugar-coated, neon puffs barely resembled food.
“Why’re you slumming?” Ricky asked through a mouthful.
“I…” Now that it was time to explain, Ward choked. With a sigh, he turned around one of the kitchen chairs and sat on it with his arms braced over the back. “Next week, after the street fair, I’m leaving Vista del Mar for a while. I wanted to tell you myself.”
Ricky’s gaze dropped to his bowl. He shoveled in another spoonful of neon puffs, his face as expressionless as a placid cow as he chewed. Then he ate another bite before shrugging. “Okay.”
The boy’s studied lack of response said more about his emotional state than he probably knew.
“Ricky, I need you to know that this has nothing to do with you. I’ll make sure Ana finds you a great mentor to replace me. I’m sorry we only met a couple of times.”
“Naw, man.” He waved a negligent hand. “It’s okay. No big deal, right?”
“I wish I could stay, but I just can’t.”
“No, I get it.” In went another bite of food. “Who wants to hang around here and mentor some stupid kid, right? I mean, you probably have, like, concerts to plan and stuff.”
“It’s not that. You’re a great kid.” Ward reached out a hand and laid it on Ricky’s arm. “You’re smart and—”
“Stop it.” Ricky shook off Ward’s hand with annoyance.
“I mean it. I’ve enjoyed knowing you. You’re—”
“You don’t have to kiss my ass, okay? You can go back to your real life without feeling guilty.”
“I wasn’t trying to do that,” Ward explained, trying to keep his own frustration from his voice. “I was being honest.”
“Well, you sound like a sleazebag.”
Great. And now he was being criticized by a teenager. Just barely a teenager. “I was going for honest, but if that’s sleazy to you, so be it. You want the truth? We broke up. Ana dumped me. So I decided to leave. To make it easier on her. I’m—”
Ricky burst out laughing. “She dumped you?”
“Yes. She dumped me.” Ward waited for Ricky’s peals of laughter to die down. “But I’m glad you find my broken heart funny.”
Ricky just shook his head, clearly still amused, even though he was no longer laughing. “I just didn’t think you were the kind of guy to get dumped. I mean, dude, you’re rich.”
“Yeah, well, rich guys get dumped, too.”
“Did you really dig her?” Ricky asked quietly.
“Yeah, I did,” Ward said after a thoughtful moment. What would have been the point in lying?
“I saw you two at the party. She was into you. So why are you leaving?”
“She saw through all the smoke and mirrors.” Ricky just looked at him blankly. “You know, smoke and mirrors. From The Wizard of Oz? No?”
Ricky ignored the reference and asked, “You’re not even going to fight for her. What’s up with that?”
“She was pretty clear. She doesn’t want me.” And then, for reasons he didn’t quite understand, he found himself opening up to Ricky. “I can’t make her fall in love with me.”
Ricky smirked. “Can’t you just tell her how you feel? Write her a song or something.”
Ward sighed. If only it was that easy. ’Cause, sure. He could write her a song. He could pull out all the stops and charm the pants off her. But then he’d never really know if he’d won her back or if she’d just fallen in love with the musician.
That wasn’t something a kid like Ricky could understand.
Before he could attempt to explain it, Ricky finished chewing his bite and added, “Just make it a good one. Not a cheesy one like your others.”
“First I sound like a sleazebag, and now my songs are cheesy?” Why was he even talking to this kid? “Wait a second. I thought you hadn’t heard any of my music.”
Ricky shrugged. “I downloaded some of your songs.”
“You didn’t even pay for them? You’re insulting my music and you didn’t even—”
“Hey, I paid for them. My grandparents gave me an iTunes gift card for Christmas. I’m poor. I’m not a thief.”
Mollified—just slightly—Ward pressed, “But you thought they were cheesy.”
“I guess you play guitar pretty good.”
“Yeah,” he said drily. “I guess.”
It was a good thing he had those multiple walls full of platinum albums to fall back on, because this kid was kicking his ego’s butt.
“I just thought your lyrics were… I don’t know. Sappy.” Ricky studied him with his head tilted to the side. “Do chicks usually dig that?”
“Yes. They usually do.”
“Maybe you’ve been dating the wrong kind of girl.”
Ward blew out a long breath. The kid had sure said a mouthful there. “This is crazy. I’m not going to take romantic advice from a kid.”