Warren gives me an unfamiliar smile—one of excitement mixed with trepidation. His tongue presses to either side of his mouth as he looks away momentarily.
“Uh, yeah. They’re called Leaps and Bounds.”
“Huh, cool name.”
“Thanks, I chose it,” Warren says, amused.
I roll my eyes, but Warren raises one brow, as if he’s waiting for me to put something together.
“Wait, what? Do you know them?”
His hands tense around the wheel.
“When I was in high school, I played drums. A buddy and I started a band. We did local gigs mostly, one festival as an opener for this guy who was scouted at the same bar we used to frequent. We had to have fake IDs to play. Anyway, they’re not called Leaps and Bounds anymore—they left the name when they left for a European tour.”
“What? What happened? Why—”
“I had to get a job as soon as possible,” Warren interrupts. “I was half-decent in my auto class, and that seemed like a safer bet.” He shrugs. “So when they started touring, I left the band and started working. Luke had waited long enough.”
“You gave it up for Luke?” I ask gently.
He sighs and turns the dial down so the music is barely audible.
“The drum solo on the fourth song… that’s you?”
He licks his lips with furrowed brows as he turns to face me, stopped at a red light. “You listened to it that much?”
“Yes. That song’s my favourite. The drums especially. Warren… you’re incredible.”
He does a small, shifting glance as he shakes his head.
“Ah, well.” His face drops.
“Do you still play? I mean, I know you haven’t been since you moved in but…”
“No, I don’t have my kit anymore. Sold it a while back to get some money for the car. It doesn’t matter really. We can talk about something else.”
“Okay… I hear you. I do. I just… I really want to see you play.”
“Someday.”
Warren turns into the hospital’s parking lot and opens his window to pay for parking.
“A drummer…” I mutter to myself, cheeks warming.
He turns to me before the automatic barrier of the parking lot opens, grinning. “What, is that a fantasy of yours or something?”
“Well, it is now.” I smile and look away shyly. “Why’d you have it in the car? If you don’t like listening to it?”
“I guess I’m proud of it. But I didn’t want to be the guy that makes his—” He stops himself.His what? “The guy who plays it for other people to show off. I miss it, though.”
“Maybe when Luke goes off to college, you could pick it back up.”
“Maybe,” Warren says with a sigh.
We pull into a parking spot, and I get Willow out as Warren opens the trunk and unfolds the stroller.
“You want me to stay here?” he asks.
