Rook
You still coming to Montreal for the band gig?
Soren
Yeah. We leave tomorrow. Gig's Friday night. You'll be busy with Game Two though, right?
Rook
Game Two's Saturday afternoon. I could come to the gig Friday if you want.
Soren
You should rest before the game. Don't feel like you have to show up just because I'm in the same city.
Rook
I want to. If you'll let me.
Soren
Okay. Yeah. I'd like that.
I pocketed my phone and leaned back against the seat, letting the noise of the team wash over me while I tried to sort through the tangle of feelings sitting in my chest. I'd won Game One. I'd led my team to a crucial playoff victory. I'd proven I could lock down the static when it mattered and be the captain they needed.
I didn't know what the hell I was doing. Didn't know if caring about him this much was going to help or hurt either of us in the long run. But I knew with absolute certainty that I wasn't walking away, wasn't letting him disappear again, and wasn't going to stop showing up even when it made my life more complicated.
Whatever this was between us, we were going to figure it out.
Even if it killed me in the process.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
the elevator problem
SOREN
The fair sprawled across the park in a riot of color and noise that should have been overwhelming but somehow felt exactly right for a Friday night in Montreal. String lights crisscrossed overhead in patterns that turned the whole space into something magical, food trucks lined the pathways pumping out smells that made my stomach growl, and everywhere I looked there were couples holding hands and families laughing and groups of friends stumbling between beer tents with the kind of loose joy that only came from not having to be anywhere else.
We were setting up on the main stage near the center of it all, and I could already feel the nervous energy building in my chest. Neon Veins had played plenty of gigs, but this was different. This was opening for an actual celebrity act, a singer whose name I recognized from radio play and streaming charts, and ourmanager had somehow scored us the spot last minute when the original opener had canceled.
“Stop fidgeting,” June said, appearing at my elbow with her bass already strapped on. “You're making me nervous just watching you.”
“I'm not fidgeting.” I was absolutely fidgeting, adjusting my kit for the third time even though it was already perfectly positioned. “I'm just making sure everything's set up right.”
“Everything's been set up right for twenty minutes. You're scanning the crowd like you're looking for a thing.” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “Or a person. Tall, hockey-playing, absurdly attractive person maybe?”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“You're a terrible liar.” She grinned and patted my shoulder. “He'll show. Rook doesn't strike me as the type to say he's coming and then bail.”
I wanted to believe that, but the fair was massive and crowded and there were at least a thousand people already filtering through. Finding one specific person in all of this felt impossible, and the longer I looked without seeing him the more convinced I became that he'd decided playoff rest was more important than watching me play drums at a fair.
Luca appeared from stage left carrying his guitar and looking far too relaxed for someone about to perform in front of the biggest crowd we'd ever had. “You ready for this?”
“Yeah. No. Maybe.” I grabbed my sticks and rolled my shoulders, trying to shake out the tension that had been building since we'd arrived. “This is a lot of fucking people.”
“We've played for crowds before.”
