Page 104 of Animal Beats

It’s right. And it’s good.

She’s a bit quieter than usual—but not lost. No. She focused in a way I haven’t seen before.

Later on, in bed, I ask, “Want to make it official?”

She bolts upright. “What?”

I sit up. “Marry me, Hayden. I can’t imagine doing any of this without you. Before I met you, no one cared if I lived or died. Now, I want to build a life with you—whatever that looks like. You, me… Mila too. She’s part of your package and I say this makes me the lucky one.”

“Río, I don’t know. What do I have to offer you? I’m walking in with nothing but debts and responsibilities.”

“Are we back to that? Who cares about money, Babysitter? All I have I’ll gladly share with you.”

“I need to make money.” Hayden adds, “I’ve been tossing around another job I might be suited for.”

I smirk. “In between orgasms?”

She whacks my stomach, then takes a deep breath. “What about administrator for Darren’s scholarship? The foundation has to be growing, and it needs full-time stewardship.” She pauses. “I think I’d be good at that.”

“You’re brilliant, Hayden! I know you’ll be excellent at it!” I kiss her smiling mouth. “We’ll talk with Luke tomorrow at breakfast.”

Hayden’s phone rings. The smile slides off her face as she shows me “The Haverford School” on her screen. Before she can answer, I say, “Put it on speaker.”

She looks like she might argue—but doesn’t. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is Mrs. Smitty from the Haverford School. Mila’s having a bit of a situation. Can you come in?”

Hayden presses her lips together. “I’m across the country right now.”

The need to help rises up fast. I lean toward the phone. “This is River Sullivan. Unfortunately, we’re in Los Angeles. Could you put Mila on? Maybe we could talk with her?”

Blue eyes filled with questions search mine. I nod.

There’s a shuffle, then screaming—loud, raw, cutting straight through the line.

Hayden tries first. “Mila? Hey, it’s me⁠—”

Nothing.

Hayden’s voice wavers.

That does it.

I step in. “Hey, Mila—It’s me, Mr. River.” I glance at Hayden. “I need your help.”

The screaming stutters, just a fraction.

“I’m working on a new song, and I think it needs a triangle. But I can’t figure out where it goes. Can you help me?”

I tap out a rhythm on the table beside me.

Silence.

Hayden freezes.

Then—

“…a triangle?”