The sound of his voice cut clean through the noise of the park, warm and sure, and something in my chest loosened.
I watched him for half a second longer than I meant to, caught in it.
When he glanced back, his eyes widened just a little, worried, like he thought I had noticed a mistake. I hadn’t.
I looked away quickly and came in on the second vocal line, my voice threading under his, softer but steady.
From there, things started to line up.
The rhythm steadied. Our timing still wasn’t perfect, but it stopped fighting itself. We leaned into the same phrases more often than not, caught the same breaths when it mattered.
When we hit the chorus, our voices found each other, not effortlessly, but well enough that the harmony held. Enough to feel right.
By the final note, my hands were steady, my heart racing for all the right reasons.
The sound lingered for half a second before the applause hit, fast and loud. Heads turned. People stepped closer.
The moms by the playground clapped with real smiles now, kids bouncing at their sides.
A couple of joggers had stopped altogether, hands on their hips as they cheered. Even the chess-table guys looked impressed.
For this crowd, it was wild.
I let myself grin, breathless and buzzing, and glanced over at Mark. He was smiling like he felt it too.
Before I could fully catch my breath, one of the organizers was already motioning for us to clear the stage.
We unplugged quickly and exchanged a thumbs-up with the next performer waiting at the steps.
As soon as our feet hit the grass behind the stage, the voices, laughter, and clapping of the crowd rushed back in, louder now that the pressure was gone.
“That was great,” I said, turning to Mark, unable to stop grinning. “We were a little out of tune at the start, but we pulled it together at the end. Maybe we could try it in a different key next time, something lower.”
“Agreed. A lower key would suit it better.”
The voice hit me like a shove.
I turned, frown already forming. There he was. Theo.
My wolf surged forward, hackles rising, a low, instinctive growl curling in my chest before I could stop it. I clenched my jaw.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, sharper than I meant to.
Theo smiled, like this was all amusing to him. “It’s one of the bigger winter festivals in the area,” he said easily. “Of course I’m auditioning.”
His gaze flicked between Mark and me. “Didn’t expect to find you here, though. So this is where you’ve been all this time.”
He glanced around the makeshift backstage area, but his eyes didn’t stop there.
They swept across the park beyond the stage, taking in the half-assembled festival, the banners rolling down the poles, and the small clusters of people lingering around.
I recognized that look. I knew that look. He was sizing everything up.
Theo looked exactly the same as when I last saw him two years ago, back in the green room before our last show together.
Same smug curve to his mouth. Same air of quiet condescension, like he was always half a step above everyone else.
Same dark jeans. Same worn leather jacket thrown over a thin T-shirt that looked deliberately distressed and not actually lived-in. Completely impractical for the cold.
