Euan, who built air systems to keep me breathing.
Kit, who became a wall when I needed to lean.
"I'm not cashing in the card," I said.
The air in the room changed instantly. The tension broke with a palpable snap. Alfie slumped forward, forehead resting on his knees. Kit let out a long, shuddering exhale. Euan closed his eyes.
"But," I added.
Heads snapped back up.
"But I'm not signing the new contract yet," I said. "The bond... the triple match... it's too big to process in one morning."
"Copy that," Alfie whispered. "Take all the time. Take a year."
"I don't need a year," I said. I looked at the comfy, cluttered lounge. "But I do need to know one thing."
"Name it," Kit said.
"If the odds are really that low," I said, looking at Euan. "0.003%."
"Correct."
"Then why does it feel like the math was wrong?" I asked. "Why does it feel like... like the signal was always supposed to route this way?"
Euan stared at me. A slow, terrifyingly soft look crossed his face.
"Because variables are just data," he said quietly. "But music... music is the connection. We were listening to the same song before we ever met."
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"Okay," I said. "Okay."
I sat down on the edge of the banquette, near Kit but not touching.
"Cal," I said.
"Yes, Z?"
"Is the kettle still warm?"
"Always."
"Then pour them a cup," I said. "They look terrible."
Alfie let out a laugh that sounded like a sob. He reached out, tentatively, and rested his pinky finger against the toe of my boot. Just the tip. A connection.
"Copy that," he whispered.
I didn't pull away.
TWENTY
Zia
I treated the next four hours like a complex mix that just needed aggressive compression to keep the levels even.
Functionally, nothing had changed. We were still a band and crew on a tour bus hurtling toward Glasgow. Technically, everything had changed. The air in the bus, despite Euan’s military-grade scrubbers, felt thick with unspoken static.
