Behind me, I hear Reese’s voice, loud and shocked. “No fucking way.”
“Language,” Noah hisses, no doubt thinking of the handful of kids in the room.
“Did Parker just volunteer to sing?” Theo asks, sounding just as shocked as Reese.
“I need to record this,” Sawyer mutters.
I ignore them all and walk up to the karaoke setup, taking the microphone from Heather’s hand. Our fingers brush for just a second, and she looks equal parts grateful and mortified—probably on my behalf.
But I give her a small nod and turn to the screen to pick a song.
I scroll through the options, looking for something upbeat. Something that will hopefully get people engaged. I finally land on something by Bruce Springsteen—I’ve heard it at enough sports bars to know the melody, even if I can’t recite a single lyric to save my life.
The music starts, and I bring the microphone up.
I’m not a good singer. That becomes immediately clear within the first few lines. In fact, I’m actually terrible. My timingis off, I’m missing half the words, and the noises coming out of my mouth aren’t anywhere near whatever key the song is supposed to be in.
But I’m committed now, and there’s nothing to do but follow through until the end.
I throw myself into the song like I’m not making a complete fool of myself in front of a room full of strangers and my teammates. I even add a few of my signature dance moves, which makes April giggle from across the room and gets a few more people smiling.
Somewhere around the chorus, a few brave souls in the crowd start singing along. They’re probably hoping to drown me out, but I’ll take it. By the second chorus, half the room has joined in, and people are swaying and clapping along with the beat.
It doesn’t matter that I’m butchering the song. What matters is that people are having fun and that Heather’s event isn’t falling flat.
When the song finally, mercifully ends, the room erupts in applause and laughter. I give an awkward sort of bow and immediately hand the microphone to the event coordinator before anyone can convince me to do an encore.
“That was amazing!” a middle-aged woman says as I pass her on my way back into the crowd. “So brave!”
I grunt noncommittally and keep moving.
But before I can get very far, someone else is already stepping up to take the microphone—a younger guy in a button-down who looks far more comfortable with the prospect of singing than I was. I’ve successfully broken the ice, and the karaoke portion is officially underway.
I catch Heather’s gaze from across the room. She’s still standing near the podium, and the look on her face is somethingI’ll remember for a long time. Gratitude, yes, and plenty of it. But also something deep and intense that makes my chest feel tight.
She mouths two words. “Thank you.”
Chapter 32
Heather
The event is going better than I could have hoped.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Grant Parker just sang in front of a room full of people to save my ass. And it actually worked!
The whole vibe shifted. People are relaxed now as they laugh and mingle. Karaoke has become a hit, with a steady stream of volunteers taking the microphone. The food is excellent, the donations are coming in, and I can finally breathe.
I’m standing near the edge of the greenhouse room, watching everything unfold and savoring that first deep, relieved breath, when I feel a hand on my shoulder.
“Heather.”
I turn to find the executive director of New Horizons—aka my boss—smiling at me. And now I’m about two seconds away from panicking again.
“Oh! Hi. Is everything okay? Do you need?—”
“Everything is perfect,” she interrupts, still smiling. “I just wanted to tell you what an incredible job you’ve done. This event has exceeded every expectation. The turnout, the atmosphere, and the donations are already coming in. It’s remarkable what you’ve been able to achieve with limited time and resources.”
I can breathe again, and I have to resist the urge to do a little happy dance right here in front of her. “Really? You think so?”
