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Aftereverything that’s happened, maybeIjust need to throw myself back into music.Totally, wholly, completely—let it consume me like it used to.
BackwhenIused to be me.
Hearinglow, raspy growls under the music makes a smile spread across my face from ear to ear.
Ispin around in my swivel chair to faceDad.Hebobs his head along with a stank face before tossing down his pen for a quick air guitar break.
WhenIsnort loudly, he doubles down on the stank and dramatics, vocally wailing out riffs as he plays air guitar.
Ilaugh my ass off until tears roll down my cheeks.
“What’sso funny?”
Myheart leaps seeingAdrianbeaming at me with a brown paper bag and a drink carrier full of coffee in his hands.Iswipe the happy tears streaming down my cheeks as he waltzes in and sets a large iced coffee on my desk.
“Neversee you around here anymore,Dree,”Dadsays. “What’sthe special occasion?”
“Oh, you know.”Thebright beam remains plastered onAdrian’sface as he deliversDada coffee and sets the brown paper bag on his desk. “Butteringup your daughter for practice.”
Dadchokes on his coffee. “What’sthat now?”
Thesmile falls from my face, and last night starts flooding back.
I’mback in the band, but they kickedRobbieout.
AndI’msupposed to sit next toZaklike he didn’t fucking drain me of all my blood?
“Steph’sback in the band,”Adriansays.
Dadwhoops, pumping a fist. “Hellyeah!”
Mystomach sinks low.
Imade a deal with the devil—my life depends on me being inTimeless.
Thisis allIever wanted, right?Mylife depending on music?
Fuck,I’mgoing to puke.
Wait,fuck…
Iswing myself out of my chair and reach for the nearest trash can, hurling up coffee.Tearsburn my eyes.
Adriandrops everything to reach for me. “Youokay?”
Ishrug him off before spitting in the trash can, coughing and sniffling asImeander out of the office to the bathroom right around the corner.
Iset the trash can on the counter and rinse my mouth.Closingmy eyes and taking a deep breath make me heave.
Ibarely make it over to the toilet in enough time.
“Ugh,”Igroan, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
Knock, knock. “Eatsomethin’ bad?”
Ipress my back against the wall across from the toilet. “Idon’t know.Maybe.”
Adriankneels beside me and presses the back of his hand to my forehead. “Youdon’t have a fever.”
