“We’re never ready,” he answers simply and businesslike.
I have a feeling he runs a tight ship, and I’m reminded once again of Thorin. Instead of pushing the mountain man from my mind as I’ve been doing for weeks anytime I’m conscious, I hold on to him like a lifeline, and I pick up the pen.
Houston and I work in silence for hours.
I jot down lyrics on the pad, and he critiques them with constructive red slashes and short and to the point notes that hurt my feelings and wind me up at the same time. Houston’s brutal in his assessments, but I can appreciate that. Each time he pushes me to dig deeper, the song becomes stronger until it’s hair-raising enough to reach the far ends of the world.
Maybe even the wilds of Northern Canada.
THORIN
Idon’t know where I am, but I’m weightless. I’m floating untethered in an open space with endless dark, and I’m alone. Other times, I’m sprinting toward a light that, no matter how hard I push, winks out the moment I reach out for it, whispering that I’m not ready.
“Hey, Thor. I’m back,” Khalil whispers. I hear the rustle of a bag, the scrape of a chair, and his tired sigh as he falls into it, but all of the sounds—like his voice—are a distant echo. “I finally found that shaving cream you like, and not a moment too soon. You’re starting to look like you’re auditioning for a role inSons of Anarchy.”
You sound like shit, brother. You should get some sleep.But like all the other times they talk to me and I answer, my lips don’t form the words and I’m sprinting again.
Racing toward them.
Khalil and Zeke and…Aurelia. Where is she? It’s been too long since I’ve heard her voice. Before it was a constant, always there to keep that floating feeling away, but lately nothing. Khalil and Zeke talk to me sometimes, but not as much as before. They barely even talk to each other now. I know Zeke’s somewhere close. I can feel him close by, but he’s quieter than I’ve ever known him to be, even after Isaac, but why?
Is it because of her?
Aurelia? Where are you, wolf? Why aren’t you here? They need you. I need you.
I’m not sure how much time passes before I hear water running and then feel something warm and cool at the sametime lathering my cheeks and jaw. I reach up to touch it, but my arm and hand don’t move from wherever they’re resting. Once my entire lower face is covered, I feel the familiar scrape of a razor shaving a stripe through my lathered skin.
“I know your brain needs time to heal, but I’m begging you, brother. Please wake up soon. I miss you. Zeke misses you. And the food in this hospital tastes like shit.”
Hearing the devastation in Khalil’s voice and fearing that this time I might push him beyond repair, I start sprinting again, running toward that light that will take me back to them, only this time… I don’t give up.
AURELIA
I’m in the studio for the fifth time this week recording a new track with Houston and Rich’s help when Loren comes in and signals for me to come out. Since I’m almost done and I’m in love with the take, I finish the recording before I remove the headphones and leave the booth.
“What’s up?” I ask once I’m standing in front of him.
Houston already has Braxton on his lap, and they’re making out like I’m not even here. They’re kissing like they’re two seconds from fucking.
“You have a visitor. Oni’s here too, but she’s meeting with Braxton first as soon as Houston takes his tongue out of her mouth and remembers that we’re working. You’re up next, kiddo.” Overhearing, Braxton ends the kiss and curses before rushing out of the room. Technically, Oni was Braxton’s manager. Houston, Loren, and Jericho already had their own powerhouse in Xavier Gray when Brax joined Bound, so Oni and Xavier decided to shake hands and join forces, sharing custody of the band.
“Who is it?”
“I’m not allowed to say,” he says with a sniff. “It would ruin the surprise.”
Rolling my eyes, I follow Loren out of the studio with a frown and up the stairs until I’m on the ground floor, staring down at a familiar face that I never thought I’d see again. On the outside, he looks the same—deep dark skin and military stance complete with crew cut and disconnected goatee. But hiseyes are different. My former bodyguard used to have expressive brown eyes filled with warmth. They’re shuttered now.
“Tyler?” I gasp, seeing but not believing that my old bodyguard is really there. He looks good. Different, but good. He looks like he made it out in one piece even though I know that isn’t true.
“It’s really you,” we both say at the same time.
“Aww, how cute,” Loren says with a sarcastic smile.
Ignoring the bassist, who quickly makes himself scarce inside another of the many rooms, I take one step toward Tyler before I give up the pretense to rush forward and throw my arms around his neck. “You’re alive,” I say tearfully.
Even though I can see that he is, I still need Tyler to confirm it.
I feel his large hands fall on my back, one of them caressing my spine consolingly. “I’m alive. And so are you. I heard but I didn’t believe it until now. When I saw the news, I thought it was a cruel joke, especially when no one had reported seeing you since.”
