Page 128

“Yeah,” he says carefully.

“Not back here next year?”

Before Cal can answer, Luca shakes his head.

“Nah. He’s only doing the one year. Then it’s back to the band, world domination, matching retirement homes. The plan is solid.”

Cal turns his head and glares at him. Right. Ok. This basically confirms it; we had one night of fun. That’s all. I shouldn’t be upset.

Luca doesn’t notice. He’s too busy stealing a chip from Sydney’s bowl and explaining why he deserves the largest room in their future retirement home.

“Oh,” I say.

It shouldn’t surprise me.

Of course, Cal is going back to LA. He has a band there. A career. An entire life that existed before Mountain Springs and will keep existing after it.

One year.

Then he’s gone.

Cal is watching me now, but I look away before he can read anything on my face.

And every so often, Luca looks at me. Then at Callum. His mouth ticks up in a small, private smile, and I want to climb out of my own skin.

He knows.

I don’t know how much he knows, but it’s definitely more than nothing.

It’s around Sydney’s fourth drink that she says what I know she’s been dying to say.

“Okay, but you have to play something.”

“I don’t know about that,” Luca says, clearly delighted.

“You have to. You’re literally a band. In my house. It’s the law.”

“We don’t have instruments,” Cal says. “We can’t.”

It’s the first full sentence he’s said in twenty minutes.

“We have spoons and pans—” Sydney turns towards me, gesturing vaguely upstairs. “Bea, don’t you have a guitar in your⁠—”

“No.”

It comes out harder than the question deserves. Hard enough that Sydney blinks. Hard enough that the brightness in the room dims by a notch.

“I thought you—” she starts.

“It’s broken,” I say. “Not playable. Anyone want more chips?”

I’m already on my feet.

As I leave, I catch Callum’s eyes.

* * *

I find him in the kitchen twenty minutes later, the others are playing some drinking game.