Page 40 of Rebel Romeo

“You want me to sing? Here?”

“I have the accompaniment recorded. Just hit play when you’re ready.”

I gulp against the rising swell of panic in my throat. Whatever breakthrough I’d just had—as small as it had been—vanishes in an instant.

He wants me to sing. Here. Now. In front of a group of strange tourists who aren’t here to see some weird girl face her fear of heights and belt out a new musical they’ve never heard.

“It’s not going to sound good,” I croak.

“It’s not about sounding good all the time, Katherine. Sometimes to hit the raw emotion of acting, our singing won’t be perfect. Let go of the perfection. Face your fear. And sing.” Challenge glitters in the dark amber pools of his eyes.

“But this is theater,” I argue. “Escapism. People don’t want to hear me choking my way through a song. Hiccuping and sobbing and snotting?—”

“This song is about you having lost the love of your life—and you’re about to take the plunge to try to win him back. In many ways, Skyler is standing on the ledge of a balcony, ready to jump.”

“But—”

“Katherine,” his tone halts my words. “Trust me.”

Those two words stab into me. It’s not just about being eighty stories up. It’s not about singing while facing one of my biggest fears. It’s about doing all this with him as my guide.

I don’t trust him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

From the twist of his mouth and tilt of his eyes, it seems like he can read my exact thoughts. “If you can’t trust me, can you at least trust the process?”

“Tell me why she’s wearing your grandfather’s ring,” I demand in a moment of bravery. His eyes widen and he takes me in for a long breath. “We both know what that ring means to you. And how you’ve said you would never give it to someone you loved?—”

“I said a lot of things when I was young and angry, Kate. You can’t hold them like some sort of gospel.”

I shake my head, the muscles in my hands aching from my tight grip on the railing. “If you want me to trust you here, then you have to give me a reason to trust you. You need to be honest with me about something.”

“Fine,” Holden says. “You’re right. That ring is a symbol of everything I hate about my grandfather. But… it was also given to me by my mom after he died. It’s not just a reminder of him. It connects me to her. And someday, I want to pass it onto my children so they know they’re not beholden to the Dorsey family legacy.

“You don’t want kids,” I say, my voice trembling.

“I thought I didn’t, but that was my fear to overcome. That was my Empire State Building. You're not a prisoner of your fears, Kate. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

Kate.

Not Katherine.

The Holden I knew from college was broken.

Broken beyond repair.

I blink, surprised by his answer. Maybe I’m wrong about the ring. About Missy. About everything.

Maybe I’m wrong about Holden.

He hits play on his phone, the accompaniment to my opening song starting once more. “Now come on. Sing.”

Visions of him marrying Missy flood my mind. Them on their wedding day. Her carrying his future children. It’s enough to bring a sob up my throat and it hurts so damn much to think about that I have to look down at my torso to make sure I’m not physically bleeding out.

With a deep breath, I close my eyes, starting to sing.

“Nope,” he snaps, interrupting me and starting the music over. “Eyes open. Look out at the city. Down at the people heading home from work. At the glittering stars or the glowing moon. But you can’t close your eyes.”

Damn. Him.

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