My teeth are knocking together and I can't make them stop when I get in the car. Finn looks at me disdainfully and reaches for the button to switch the air conditioning to heat.

I don't dare flip the visor down to inspect myself. I'm a mess. I don't need a mirror to prove it.

Neither of us speak.

I feel far too foolish for the way I acted, far too ashamed to admit that maybe I was wrong, far too scared to acknowledge the driving force behind my epic level meltdown. I've given up everything I know that is safe and secure. My job at Breaking Point and considering the fact that I'd briefly contemplated Finn's offer of staying with him in California, maybe even an apartment all to be a songwriter. A dream I'd given up a long time ago.

It was ridiculous, wasn't it? To want something so desperately that I'm willing to trade life as I know it on the off chance it might work out. But I haven’t felt this awake and alive in so long it seems like a worthy sacrifice. Writing songs is so deeply rooted into my soul, like blood that runs through my veins and now that I've had a little taste of what I'd forgotten-I want more.

I kick my shoes off and hug my knees to my chest. I rest my heels on the edge of the seat where leather piping protrudes slightly and slide my gaze to the left so I can see Finn and assess the damage I've done.

He's staring at the road straight ahead, his lips together in a straight and somber line. His hair is disheveled and sticking out haphazardly-- no doubt a result of his fast exit from the hotel room when I flew out of there without a backward glance. His brows are drawn together in contemplation.

I clear my throat but he doesn't acknowledge me so I place my hand over his where it is settled on the gear shift. His body stiffens but even from this angle, I see his face soften.

"I'm sorry.” My voice sounds as small as I feel when I say it.

He nods.

"I'm scared," I continue.  

I know I've made him angry today but I must be forgiven-- at least somewhat, because his hand slips from underneath mine and settles on top of it, before his thumb traces my knuckles. "Of what? There’s nothing to be afraid of.”  

"Of you. Of this. Less than a week ago, I was waiting tables. My life was routine. It was predictable. It may not have been terribly rewarding or exciting but it was something I can count on. Now it’s in this terrifying yet beautiful upheaval and I don’t like not being in control.”

"Makes sense," he says. “It’s hard to put all your faith in something or someone.”

"When I saw that text I freaked out. I just keep thinking I've made a mistake and was looking for any reason to try and run. A text about some mystery girl gave me that reason.”

"This isn’t a mistake, Laney. We are not a mistake and neither is being brave enough to go after what you what. Pushing it all away—that would be a mistake.”

His words are true. The future is uncertain and I have to accept that. There is no guarantee any of this will work. No promises of riches or unending happiness between Finn and I but as long as there is hope between us, there is a chance.

"The thought of you having a girlfriend drove me crazy,” I finally say. “Legitimately.”

"Yep," he says. "I was there. You're a real whackjob."

"Finn!"

The corner of his mouth pulls up. "Relax pretty girl. I'm kidding. Listen I know this seems right mad. Some guy from your past shows up and begs you to trust him, to give up your life long enough to get a little taste--just enough to make you want more. To light that fire I know is inside you that you let flicker out." He smiles wider. "In fact, when I say it out loud like that, maybe you're a whackjob for real. What were you thinking coming with me, huh? You're certifiable."

I laugh. "I'm sorry I got all emotional."

"I'm glad you did. It's like we just poured some lighter fluid on your ember." He nods to the floor, where my notebook sits at my feet. "I bet twenty bucks you could write me a song, right now, on the spot the way you’re all fired up.”

I tentatively pick it up off the floor, remove the pen from the coil and chew on the end.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," he says.

"Lilah. You don't have to tell me about her--not if you don't want to, but did you love her?"

He bites his bottom lip between his teeth before letting go. "No," he says. "It wasn't like that."

“Not at all?”

“Not the way I love you.”

I don't feel like I have a right to ask anything else so I look down at my notebook, at the grains on the recycled paper and wait for the words to come. It doesn't take long before they do.

I'll follow you into the unknown,

To have a chance at dreaming,

I'll open up my mind and heart,

To get closer to this feeling,

Please don't try to hurt me

Please don't make me cry, 

Sing to me your sweetest song,

Your perfect lullaby, 

The faith I have is blinding,

And it's too dark to see,

The path we walk is winding,

To the tune of your melody,

Your kiss is like a symphony,

Your touch the highest note,

Your words become a part of me,

Of the story that I wrote,

Please don't try to hurt me,

Please don't make me cry,

Sing to me your sweetest song,

Your perfect lullaby.

I flip over the notebook and show Finn proudly. “I’m twenty bucks richer.”

“It’s a good thing I’m getting a record deal. Can you put it on my tab?”

“I suppose,” I say. “But you’re buying lunch.” 

“Thanks. So what do you think, will this song make the cut? Will it be on the album?”  

"Yes," I say confidently. "Most definitely. I think you should call it Lullaby."

He shrugs. "You're the brains behind the operation. I'm just a pretty face."

"Wow," I say. "Really?"

"Don't worry. You're pretty too, Laney." The now familiar ring tone of Nirvana sounds and he looks at the screen and gives a cautious look my way. "I have to answer it," he says. "It could be an emergency."

"I know," I say. "I'm done freaking out. Promise."

Finn brings the phone up to his ear and I only hear the one side of the conversation. Finn saying “yes” and “I know” and “I realize that but I had something that I had to take care of, Lilah.” Then he mentions something about being home tomorrow around 3 and that something would be fine before he tells Lilah goodbye, hangs up and leaves me even more curious than I had been to begin with.

I’m suddenly more brazen than I am cautious. “Where’d you meet her?”

“At a pit party,” Finn says. “Couple months after you left.”

I nod. “Is she pretty?”

“Well she’s not ugly,” he says.

“What does she look like, though?”

“Why are you asking me all this?”

I stretch my legs until I can rest my feet on the dashboard. “Because,” I say. “I want to know about her and what you’re lying to her about.”

He inhales sharply and lets out a sigh. “I lied to her about where I was going and why.”

“Why would it matter if you aren’t together? I mean it’s really no one’s business but yours where you are.”

Finn turns his head. He looks sad. “It’s not so cut and dry. It’s complicated but she needs me.”

Was I going to have to share Finn with some girl who is unable to get over him? I wasn’t too sure it was an idea I’d be okay with but for whatever reason, I mumble “okay, cool” as a reply.

Finn smiles. “I know you’re not cool with it,” he says. “And you shouldn’t pretend to be but it’s something that I can’t change, Laney. You know me well enough to know that I won’t leave someone behind who needs me.”

I know this. It’s one of the reasons that I love him so much. Did Lilah love him that much too? Does she still?