We get back to the apartment as fast and as safe as possible considering how far away we were. We leave the groceries in the car, making our way up the twelve flights of stairs to our apartment in a rush, my heart beating loud in my chest.
This isn’t the first time one of us has called in a panic. These days happen more often than not for the three of us. We need each other in moments like this. We need Kennedy’s long hugs and Wren’s sweet words and my jokes to lift the mood. We need each other to justbethere. To listen. To care.
But when we push open the door, Harry Butler is already there, and the Australian hockey player is looking down at Kennedy as she sleeps in his lap. The living room is covered in Kennedy’s artwork, printed pictures she’s taken of us over theyears scattered across the coffee table, pencils and paintbrushes covering the floor.
“What . . . ?” I whisper in awe, stepping closer into the room.
Harry’s head lifts to ours, his cheeks flushed a deep red. “She called me after calling you guys.”
“You—”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll mop it up, but I can’t really move right now.” He nods to the puddle of water on the floor that I almost stood in and his coat hanging beside mine on the hook on the wall. It’s been snowing on and off this past week, and he must’ve gotten caught in a flurry on his way here.
I figured she and Harry were getting closer since they’ve been hanging out more, but Harry lives in the dorms on campus, which is a good twenty-minute walk from here. He came all the way here in the snow for her.
One of Kennedy’s favorite movies plays in the background as Harry looks down at our friend again, tucking a curl behind her ear. I swear my heart practically explodes in my chest.
“Thank you,” Wren whispers finally, because I’m still trying to process this.
“It’s no problem. I reckon she’ll forget about all this in the morning,” he says, still looking at her as he speaks. “Speaking of, is it okay if I stay tonight? Just in case she needs me.”
“Of course. You know where everything is,” I say, smiling at him. “We’re going to grab the groceries from the car. We’ll be right back.” Harry nods at us, and before we leave, I turn back and say, “You’re a really good friend, Harry.”
He just smiles shyly, his cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red.
The second Wren and I are alone, we stare at each other, eyes wide. Wren slaps me on the arm, and I wince. “A good friend?!” she whisper-shouts.
“What was I supposed to say?” I shout back. “He ran here in the snow?! Who does that?”
“I don’t know, but it’s adorable.” Wren’s shoulders drop as she looks back at our apartment door. “I’m so glad she has him. You know, whenever we’re not there.”
“Me too.” I spin to her, beaming. “We should make her a dessert or something for when she wakes up.”
“You mean, I’ll bake it and you’ll watch.”
I grin. “Exactly.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: EVAN
Growing up surrounded by different genres of music and instruments that come from all over the world expanded so much of my interests as a kid. It gave me the escape from my mind that I desperately craved, shaping me into the person I am today. It was something that Ineededand I’m so glad I found it when I did.
I’m lucky that my dad brought me to all of Jaden Rhodes’s events growing up. They saw the way my eyes lit up whenever the orchestra took the stage. While they walked around and conversed with business owners, I stood in awe, trying to imagine what it would be like if I could be up there with them.
I’ve never wanted to be a famous musician. I don’t want to be on a huge stage or in front of millions of people. I want to do what Jaden tries to embody at events put together to help people in the industry. I want to put people at ease, smile at them as they walk through the door, and let my music soothe them for the rest of the night. I want to be that comfort for somebody that they have been with me.
“You’re extremely calm. That’s new,” Scarlett teases, eyeing me suspiciously as I walk out onto the balcony of our hotel room.
We flew into Boston last night and even though we’ve been together the whole time, I still don’t feel like I’ve had enough time with Scarlett. All I want to do is be around her and spend time with her. The event is being hosted at the theatre downtown, and I had rehearsals after our flight and again this morning, putting together the final touches to the program.
“I’ve got nothing to worry about,” I say easily, smoothing out the pants of my black B&Co tuxedo, the bow tie still hanging loose around my neck.
“Cocky, huh?”
“Confident,” I say, shrugging. Scarlett twists her mouth to the side, her gaze darting away from mine. “Areyounervous?”
“No,” she says quickly, and I raise an eyebrow. “I mean, I’m meeting your dad, but that’s unrelated.”
I nod slowly. “Are you nervous for me?”
