I exhaled, forcing myself to slow down. “I just think we can do better than this,” I added, gesturing vaguely toward the beach scene looping behind us. “I think we should try.”
They didn’t say yes. But they didn’t say no either, and somehow that felt like permission.
Ethan shifted his weight, guitar strap still slung over his shoulder.
“I’m not sure I can do New Year’s Eve,” he said carefully. “I’ll probably be on duty at the clinic. Holidays are usually one of the busiest times of the year.”
I nodded, even though something tight pulled in my chest.
Noah rubbed the back of his neck. “And I don’t even know if I’ll be in town that week. Jackson’s family invited me up to Silvercrest.”
“Oh,” I said.
Then, because I apparently had no self-preservation instincts, I added, “But I already signed us up for the audition.”
They both froze.
“I’m sorry,” Noah said immediately.
“Yeah,” Ethan chimed in. “We should’ve said something sooner.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to ask why they hadn’t told me earlier. To point out that this wasn’t exactly new information, us playing together during the holidays.
But a part of me had already known.
The signs had been there for months. Less songwriting. Fewer practices. We merely showed up, played the same set of crowd-pleasing covers at Griffin’s.
If we had time, maybe grabbed supper after, if our schedules lined up. But lately, even that had been rare.
I stood from the drum seat and started breaking down my kit, forcing a smile into place.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Really.”
They watched me for a second.
“But you wouldn’t mind if I still go through with the audition,” I added. “Right?”
Noah reached out. “Zack?—”
I waved him off and focused on loosening a stand. “It’s fine.”
I caught them exchanging looks in the corner of my eye, mouths moving like they were silently arguing over what to say next. I didn’t look up.
I could just back out. Tell Cathy or Cooper we’d changed our minds. No one would think twice about it.
But the stubborn part of me refused to let go.
I’d figure something out. Maybe I could rope Maurice into a collaboration. Or do something solo.
I hadn’t seriously played guitar in years, but my fingers still remembered the chord shapes. Probably.
When I finally finished packing, I looked up.
Both of them were still watching me, concern clear on their faces. Neither said a word.
After a beat, Noah cleared his throat. “So… next week for practice?”
“Yeah,” I said quickly. “Next week.”
