Page 35 of Broken Instrument

Hadley’s warm hand slips onto my knee, and she squeezes softly as if to say she agrees with him. I don’t know why, but the touch grounds me, nudging me to believe something I would’ve laughed at if it weren’t for her silent encouragement. I look down at her hand and soak up the warmth like a ray of sunshine. It feels good. Calming somehow. And it takes everything inside of me not to lean closer and let her wrap her arms around my chest. To feel her warm breath against the shell of my ear as she tells me what the hell I should do right now.

“I’ll email you the contract in the morning,” Hawthorne adds. “Do you want me to cc your father?”

“Hawthorne,” I warn.

“Stop holding yourself back out of fear and answer the question, Fender.”

I grit my teeth but mutter, “Let me think about it.”

His chin dips. “Fine.” Turning to Hadley, he adds, “It was good to meet you, Hadley. Keep this guy in line, yeah?”

“Pretty sure he can handle himself, but it was nice to meet you too.” The warmth from her hand against my knee disappears when she waves to Hawthorne as he pushes himself up and walks out the door.

When we’re somewhat alone, I challenge, “You’ve met?”

She shrugs. “Sammie introduced us when I said you invited me to the show tonight. I think he’s worried about you.”

My lips pull into a thin line.

“Want to talk about why?” she asks.

The truth about my past hangs on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it back and follow her movement from seconds ago, shrugging while reaching for the refilled water glass Sammie must’ve replaced as I was busy losing my mind. After a few long pulls of liquid, I set it back down and mutter, “I gotta get out of here. Want to go for a walk?”

Pixie’s tail hits the barstool leg beneath me, thumping excitedly, as she registers the word “walk” with enthusiasm.

Hadley laughs when she catches Pixie’s response and gets to her feet. “I think a walk is a great idea.”

12

HADLEY

“So…any more news about Bud?” Fender asks. The night is quiet. Peaceful. One or two cars pass every few minutes, but otherwise, only the sound of our shoes scuffing against the sidewalk guides us on our walk.

But I like it. The quiet. The opportunity to simply breathe for a few minutes instead of attempting to deal with all the daily stressors attacking me lately.

And it was nice. Until Fender decided to bring up the cause of my anxiety.

I shake my head and fold my arms despite the warm breeze. “Nothing yet.”

“How’s Mia?” he prods.

“About as good as you can expect with her father still missing. Isabella’s trying to convince her to apply to a few colleges, but they’re both pretty distracted with everything going on. And I have no idea if she’ll be able to bring her GPA up enough to be accepted where her mom wants her to go, So…yeah.”

“That’s rough.”

“It is,” I agree. “Do you mind if we change the subject?” I smile tightly, shocked by the onslaught of tears threatening to fall. I swallow them back and add, “It’s been nice. Tonight. Not having to worry about things. I’d love it if I could keep the escape going for a little longer, ya know?”

“I’m sorry––”

“Don’t apologize. It isn’t your fault.”

“I mean, I did ask,” he replies. The streetlight casts a shadow, highlighting his smirk while causing butterflies to take up residence in my lower gut.

I laugh lightly and nudge his arm with my shoulder. “And I appreciate it. I just don’t…” I take another deep breath. “I don’t have the answers I’m wanting right now. But I would love for you to tell me why you’re so hesitant to take Hawthorne’s proposal.”

He groans and drops his head back to look up at the night sky. “It’s complicated.”

“I kind of already figured that part out.”

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