On the Way Down

Chapter Twenty-Two

I don't know what's in Arizona that's a reasonable driving distance to be there and back tonight, since I'm pretty sure he isn't taking us to see the Hoover Dam, but a chime from my phone distracts me from asking more questions. I unlock the screen and see a reply from Ava to the question I sent her a couple of hours ago.

Negative on seeing Nash. I texted him to find out what his plans are after I'm done with my event tonight, but he's leaving for a few days for session work at a studio somewhere that isn't near Vegas. It's fine.

Ava is typically breezy about guys, and I don't doubt what she said about it being fine, but I also know her rules. Asking Nash about his plans instead of letting him be the one to ask her is out of character. I could be reading into something that isn't there, but my curiosity about her sudden interest in being more than friends with him has soared to new heights.

You still aren't off the hook for explaining what almost brought your hookup on. In your own famous words, I only want tea and you'd better spill all of it. But my condolences to your sex life.

The three dots on my screen are evidence of Ava already replying, and I can't hold back a quiet laugh at the thought of the sarcasm-laced zinger she's certain to be sending my way.

"What's so funny?" Phoenix asks. My laugh must have been louder than I thought if he noticed it over the pulsing music.

"I'm just teasing Ava. You'll be happy to know Nash is heading out of town for a studio session and she won't be seeing him again while she's here."

"The universe works its magic in mysterious ways. Did he say where he's going?"

Even though he's made his feelings about Nash and Ava together abundantly clear, there's something off in his delivery and tone. In truth, his energy has also been off since the news about Len. Maybe bringing the subject up again in a way that's less specific to him will get him to open up more than he has.

"It doesn't sound like it. I wonder if he's heard the news about the break in Len's case yet? He's probably losing his mind if he did."

Phoenix keeps his eyes on the road. "What makes you say that?"

"He said something about still being desperate for answers at the show last night."

"He talked to you about Len?"

"It was when you were getting the third degree from Torin. He asked if my book was based on her disappearance and if I had any theories about what happened. He also asked me to get his phone number from you or Ava if I felt like bouncing ideas off of him, or if I had questions about Len."

A preternatural silence greets my words. I pause, really taking in what I can glimpse of Phoenix's face. There's a crease along his forehead, and his mouth is parted, almost as though his jaw muscles have gone limp.

"You look stunned." This is an understatement.

A few more seconds pass before he answers. "I'm surprised he brought her up, that's all. He almost never talks about her."

He lapses back into a contemplative quiet, leaving me at a loss for what else to say about Len or the feelings and thoughts he's been grappling with. I shouldn't poke at this more while he's driving, anyway, since it's a subject that's too emotionally charged to dive into in any depth when we're hurtling down a freeway at our current high speed.

The best thing I can do is push this out of my mind, but it refuses to budge. It's as if Len's presence—or the ghost of her—sits between us on the center console, bobbing along to the bass-driven beat of the song on the radio. But that's a ludicrous thought, isn't it? Phoenix hasn't said or done anything that should make me feel or imagine an energetic wedge between us, and I'm a much more secure person than this. Or I thought I was.