“Yeah.” Perry folds his arms across his chest. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you have an Internet search history a mile long and a Devin shrine in your bedroom, complete with bits of hair and nail clippings.”
Marcus shakes his head. “No, Cass is good people. I’ve known her and Brie here since high school. I can vouch for her. You should hear her out.”
“You want proof Cass is telling the truth?” Brie steps forward. “Here’s an article from The Columbus Dispatch about her accident.” She extends her phone toward Devin. On the screen is a headline, “Case Western Law Student Almost Dies in Crash,” accompanied by a photo that still makes my gut wrench every time I see it—my little white Camry crunched like a tin can against Interstate 71’s concrete median. Red and blue police lights reflect in the broken, blood-splattered glass.
Gingerly, Devin takes Brie’s phone and begins scrolling. Perry reads over his shoulder. Jaw tight, he shifts his gaze to me, then back to the article.
“And there’s this…” Fingers trembling, I reach into the bag at my hip and pull out my sketchbook. The familiar, worn cover is smooth under my fingertips. “I—I started drawing pictures of you. A few weeks after the accident… look.” Swiveling, I set my sketchbook on the bar and open it to a page near the front.
In the drawing, Devin is resting his chin in his hand, staring into the middle distance as though he’s listening intently. Real Devin shuffles closer; I register his presence as he hands Brie’s phone back to her and stands at my side. Heart hammering, I steal a glance at his face. His wide eyes dart across the image, no doubt attempting to process what he’s seeing. I swallow hard and flip a few more pages, letting him take it all in.
“What the hell?” Perry breathes from over Devin’s shoulder.
“I drew this one seven months ago. And this one”—I thumb through several more sketches until landing on one of Devin lying in the grass with his hands behind his head—“five months ago. They’re dated, see?” I tap the date scribbled at the bottom of the page.
“As if you couldn’t have faked the dates,” scoffs Perry.
I whirl on him, heat rising in my cheeks. “I know it’s hard for you to believe, but I have better things to do than cook up an elaborate scheme to trap some guy. I have a life and a law career, you know.”
“This is a lot to take in,” Devin murmurs. Scrubbing a palm over his mouth, he blows out a long breath. “Okay. Tell me something no one else would know about me. Something you can’t learn from the Internet.”
Conversations buzz all around us while upbeat music fills the air, but it’s like I’ve stepped into the vacuum of space. Everything seems to go quiet as I narrow my focus to a laser point on Devin’s determined features. How can I possibly tell him something so personal? Most of my memories of him are fragments or clips—scraps of conversation and impressions of feelings, sounds, and scenes. I open my mouth, but only a croaking sound comes out.
Perry shakes his head. “I knew it. Come on.” Tugging Devin’s arm, he ushers him toward the door.
“Wait!” I call. “I—I know that your parents divorced when you were six. You like watching murder-mystery documentaries with your dad. And… and… I know about your plans for the family business! How you want to…” A phrase echoes from the depths of my memory, and I seize it. “… deliver it into the future.”
I’m not exactly sure what that means, but Devin and Perry must because they both freeze. Perry’s eyebrows raise so high they’ve disappeared underneath his mop of copper-brown hair.
Devin’s face pales. “How do you know about that?”
“That’s the whole point. I have no idea. And that’s what I want to find out.” I put every ounce of earnest conviction I can behind my words, willing him to believe me. We stare at each other for several heartbeats. He’s standing a mere few feet away, but the space between us feels as cavernous as a football stadium. My gut squeezes and I hold my breath.
Finally, he shifts his weight and looks away. “Well, shit.” Tipping his head back, he lets out a peal of deep laughter. The sound pierces my chest and travels all the way to my toes. “So I’m the man of your dreams?”
A breathy laugh escapes me. “Kind of.”
“Okay then.”
My heart hopscotches. “Okay then? Does that mean you’ll hear me out?”