COLE
I watched as Adeline beelined back toward the house and shot off the text to Leo. Ezra sat behind the drums, his expression dazed.
“What just happened?” he asked, scratching at his cheek.
“Dude, it was so far beyond description I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
My pants felt awfully tight, and I was grateful that Adeline had seemed too dumbstruck to notice the situation I was nursing by the end of the song.
“Was it just me, or did she seem as affected as us?” Ezra asked while running his fingers through his hair.
“I think so,” I agreed. I’d noticed the way her neck had shimmered with sweat and how she’d looked at us when she opened her eyes after crushing the solo.
I’ve always thought that music was a sort of divine magic, even before I’d listened to Jimi Hendrix while tripping on acid. A good song could find its way into your soul and show you hidden truths about yourself. A chorus, a few verses, and a bridge could put you through an emotional wringer as much as it could heal a broken heart. Music was energy, it was power, and it had certainly showed something to the three of us just now.
“Maybe she’s starting to consider it,” I said. “The kiss with Silas, the hints we’ve been dropping, and now this. She must be picking up on the fact that we’re interested in her, and that we’re not exactly competing with each other for her attention.”
“We’re playing with fire,” Ezra muttered, shaking his head. “If she makes a move, we’ll be goners. She’ll own every piece of us, and there won’t be anyone who can pull us out. Are you willing to take that risk?”
I considered his words for a moment. “This kind of fire won’t destroy. It’ll change and mold us into something new. It will transform.”
And we were due for a transformation.
* * *
Ezra left close to midnight after we spent another hour talking about Adeline, my sister’s pregnancy, and how well the new album was coming along. We hadn’t caught up like that in a long time, and it felt good to be slowly getting my best friend back, but I was still nervous this improvement was temporary. I badly wanted to talk to him about the band’s future, but it felt still too early for that.
I washed the dishes from dinner and headed toward my room. The guest bedroom was on the first floor, just to the right of the staircase that led up to my bedroom, and as I passed by the door, I stopped.
Ezra was getting over his demons and playing a more active role in the band once again. Wasn’t it time for me to conquer my own?
I knew I couldn’t keep existing in this space between two worlds. One where I had moved past what had happened, and one where I still agonized over the memory of Amy’s face when the full truth had finally come out.
I gripped the copper handle and twisted until the lock clicked. The door eased open under my touch. This room was a picture of generic hospitality, quite unlike my parents’ usual aesthetic of rainbow colors and fractal patterns that made you feel like the summer of love had never ended. I supposed they’d toned it down in here to try to keep their wide variety of guests comfortable.
The walk-in closet was positioned in the right corner of the room, and something about the closed door leading to it seemed awfully menacing. I shook my head and crossed the space in a few big steps. There was a monster hiding in there, but it no longer had claws.
I could make out the paintings stacked against each other on the floor even before flicking on the light, but when they became illuminated, a sense of relief swept through me. I didn’t expect that being here and looking right at them would take away their power, but somehow, this simple act had done exactly that.
Reaching for the canvas closest to me, I flipped it around and stared at a face that…Well, it might as well have been the face of a stranger. The feelings I’d been so afraid would rise right to the surface if I’d ever looked at these paintings again never came.
I reached for the other paintings, flipping them over and lining all eleven around the perimeter of the closet. My gaze drifted over each one, but even their combined impact was no more than a quiver in my gut. It could have also been the fact that I’d had too much fiber at dinner.
Footsteps sounded behind me and I glanced over my shoulder to see my mom in her nightgown—an enormous Grateful Dead T-shirt that reached past her knees.
“So you finally made it back here.” I could hear the sad smile in her voice. “How does it feel?”
“It feels like…nothing, actually.”
She came up to stand beside me and threaded her arm through mine. “You know, I think I had misremembered what these looked like. They’re not your best work.”
I snorted out a laugh. “I thought you liked all of my art. Even the watercolors I stuffed in all your purses as a kid before the paint had dried.”
Her laugh was rich with memories. “I’m not saying these are awful, just that I know you’re capable of so much more. You have a lot of love to give, Cole. When you find someone who deserves it, that’s when you’ll produce your best work.”
“Nice prophecy, Mom.”
“You know, I’ve been shown things throughout my life,” she responded, ignoring my jab. “And I’m good at reading energies. We never talked about Amy’s because I knew you’d never listen to me back then, but I sensed there was something off about her from the moment we met. It was this cloying sweetness that nearly choked up any room she was in. Delicious and addicting at first, but ultimately deadly.”
