“Kas…” My voice catches before I can say her name properly.
No sound from the other side, just silence. Somehow, that hurts more than anything she could’ve said. I stay there anyway, forehead against the door, wishing I’d done even one thing differently. I'm about to give up and walk away when the door clicks. She opens it just enough that I can see her face, eyes tired but steady.
“Hey,” I manage, voice lower than I mean it to be. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. That you're still coming to the studio? You don’t have to, obviously.”
She crosses her arms lightly, not defensive, just containing herself. “I said I’d come. I meant it.”
I nod. “Yeah.” I start to turn away, ready to take the mercy of the closed door when it comes, but the words catch on my tongue before I can stop them.
“Listen, Haima—Rithy. He didn’t mean it. He says shit when he feels small.”
Her expression doesn’t change much, but her voice cuts. “Rithymust be feelingverysmall, then.”
“Yeah,” I take a deep breath. “I—Kasia, you—” I stop, rub the back of my neck, try to reset my brain. “The person he talked about, that’s not me anymore. I was younger, messed up over an ex. I don’t see you that way. You know that, right?”
“I know whatyou’veshown me, and I know whathesaid,” She exhales, slowly. “Which should I believe?”
It’s fair. It’s reasonable. She’s right to say it, she’s right to doubt me. I lean against the doorframe, just to be closer, just to steal the scent of her, hotel soap and those lilies mixed with rain again. If I could pluck it from the air I would wrap it around me. I lean into it and for a moment, she doesn’t pull back. That small mercy almost breaks me.
“Me.Believe me, Kasia. Imeantwhat I said,” I say, nervously. “Everything.”
Her gaze flicks down, then back to me. “You should probably go, you’ll be late.”
I hang my head, nod once. I deserve that. I should’ve done more, should’ve stopped Rithy sooner, defended her harder. Or just not answered the damn door.
“I’ll see you there, yeah?”
“Yep.”
I push off the frame, force my feet to move.No need to beg or explain, my boy. Only time and actions will matter now. No sulking, chin up and get to it.I hear my father’s words, his hands clasped behind his back, looking out the window whenever I misbehaved. As I walk down the hall, the sound of her door clicking shut follows me all the way to the car.
Chapter 32
Sift The Ashes
Rafe
The studio is pungent with the amount of coffee and metal strings in this place. Ronan is already behind the kit, tapping through a lazy warm-up, sticks flicking in time with his smirk. Kiri is tuning the bass, head bobbing to a rhythm only he hears. Rithy’s there too, miserable but upright, exactly like I predicted. Sunglasses, headache, attitude, the full package.
“Morning, lads,” I mutter, dropping my guitar case by the amp.
Szklane Serce are already unpacking gear at the far end of the room, all smiles and polite energy. I greet them, shaking hands, thanking them again for making the time.
“Kasia should be here soon,” I tell them. “She’s still as fluent in your language and your humor as last night.”
That earns a few laughs.
Behind me, Ronan is tapping out a rhythm against the snare rim, watching Rithy through a grin. “How’s the head,Romeo?”
Rithy bares his teeth, a mock bite in the air. “Don’t tempt me, Ronan. I'll eat you up,” he growls.
Kiri chuckles, low and easy. “Try drinking less before a session,oun (little brother).”
“Try minding your own business,bong (big brother),” Rithy mutters, dragging his pick across the strings hard enough to make the amp hiss.
I say nothing. Just check cables, pluck a few chords, let the motion do the thinking. The repetition helps until the door opens. Then everything in the room flips. Kasia steps in, and the air finds structure around her. Calm, steady, sure, the same kind of silent authority she had the first time she walked into that office and looked up, the wordsMr. Ashtonon her lips. The memory makes my body respond, even when I try to will it into obedience. Every man in the room straightens up a little, like they just remembered how to behave.
Everyone except Rithy. Even with his sunglasses on, I canfeelthe eyeroll. My hand curls around the neck of my guitar. A small, stupid gesture, but it’s either that or throw it.
