“Agreed.” Avonna tilts her head. “So, what’s a realistic timeline?”
“I’ll tell him after we jam,” he sighs. “Dependin’ on how it goes.”
We all hold there.
The solution isn’t perfect. At least it’s a meandering line in the sand.
I guess it’s enough. For now.
Silence is a weight I don’t want to carry much longer.
The clock is ticking.
forty-three
Liam
Two Weeks Later
Thebeat-uprehearsalspaceoff Sunset reeks of sweat, weed, and old amps.
There’s nothing romantic about it.
Somehow, with the light cutting through the dusty windows and the anticipation of what’s to come, I feel like I’m seventeen again. Back when Connor, Padraig, and I dreamt of being in a band together. Before all the shit.
Of course now there’s more on the line and a hell of a lot more history.
Avonna adjusts the mic stand while I tune my guitar. She’s barefoot, hair piled in a loose knot, wearing a threadbare black tank she always steals from Linus. It slips off one shoulder, exposing her tiny dove tattoo.
Padraig watches her with curiosity, not judgment. He knows her, at least a bit from the festival circuit when we hung out. He knows Linus manages her and we’ve been writing together.
He still doesn’t know…everything.
She nods at him. “Ready when you are.”
“Been ready.” He spins a stick between his fingers. “Let’s hear what you two cooked up.”
She shoots me a quick glance, somewhere betweenyou good?andhold on tight. I step closer to the mic to count us in.
We launch into the first song we finished,Unbreakable Thread. Her voice rises. The words tumble out. Clear. Raw. My bridge is urgent, biting.
Padraig’s face lifts.
When the last note dies, Padraig exhales. “Uh, that was…” He stops. Looks back and forth between us. “Fuck. Somethin’ else.”
Avonna grips the mic nervously. “Thanks?”
“In the best way,” my twin assures.
I strum my guitar. “We’ve got a few more.”
We tee up the next one calledReckless Grace. It’s faster, heavier. A chunk of melody, a shout of truth. For the first time in years I see my brother come alive a bit.
Next, we play him my favorite,Closer to the Flame. Avonna gets so lost in the emotion, her voice cracks on the chorus. It brings to mind all the nights we’ve spent writing over these past few months. The unabashed, unquenchable desire.
Three of us tangled like wires.
I’m hard as a fucking rock listening to her.
