Page 1 of Perfect Pitch

CHAPTER ONE

PRESENT DAY—JULY

Confession time: I’m not a New Yorker.

I fell in love with the city, the constant lights and movement, the glitz and glam, right around the time I started this column. I fell out of love the first time I threw up after a cab ride through the Lincoln Tunnel.

Now, we have a mutual tolerance for one another. I’m satisfied with that status quo.

For now.

—StellaNova

The jolt of the plane touching down yanks me from the nightmare that was building up to emerge from my throat as a scream. I blink rapidly, trying to reorient myself. I’ve been trying to repair the hole in my heart over the last two months.

But now, I’m back in New York, where I left all but one of the most critical parts that make up me.

Despite how long I was away and how much I wanted to bury my heart, I couldn’t put off returning forever. “It’s no one’s fault I can’t run far enough to escape,” I whisper.

Lips brush the top of my head. I’m about to look up and acknowledge the sweet gesture when a strong hand reaches across the aisle and taps my hand. I swivel my head, pulling out an earbud simultaneously. The coordinator of my protection detail—a man who came out of retirement to watch over me at my father’s request—frowns. “Something I can help with, kid?”

I shake my head, my long, colored braids flying in all directions. “No, Charlie. Thanks. Just thinking out loud.”

His bushy eyebrows lower over his bright blue eyes. “Anything you need, Austyn. All you have to do is ask.”

I’m about to open my mouth to dismiss his offer when one thought pops into my head. “Let it go. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t any of our fault. That’s what you both keep telling me.” The arm around me tightens.

Regardless of everything that happened just before I left New York a few months ago for some hastily scheduled shows, I’m right back where I started. A tremor of panic shudders through me. I deliberately use the techniques I spent the last month learning and barricade the fear behind a wall. If I don’t, I doubt I’ll be able to function in this city where I met the man I gave my heart to.

Tears well up in my eyes.

A sharply indrawn breath beside me lets me know they’re not missed by either man. Charlie frowns. “I need to...”

“What good will it do to pursue it, Charlie?”

“Give you closure,” he counters.

My lips curve sadly as I rub my fingers over my scarred wrists, something I’ve taken to doing in the last few weeks when my anxiety kicks into high gear. Fingers gently stay my movements. I lay my head against a broad shoulder before admitting, “After everything that occurred, I honestly didn’t care if I lived or died.”

I can’t acknowledge the pressure of the arm that tightens around me at my blunt words.

Charlie grips my fingers. “And now?”

I twist my head until I spot the air traffic controller guiding us into place. “Now, I have a mission.”

“And that is?”

“To live for us both. She didn’t get a chance, and I’m not done yet.”

Charlie lets me go as I rest my ear at the most beautiful beat in the world—that of the heart of the man I love. His head lowers until his lips brush against my ear. “I’m never leaving your side. Not for a minute, Austyn. Believe me.”

I can’t. Not yet. But my soul needs him to survive.

* * *

I called for this appointment the moment I knew I’d be returning to New York. I need to complete this before I slip back into the world that drove me to the highest of highs before plummeting to the lowest of lows. “I want them around my wrists,” I inform my father’s tattoo artist.

The legendary Kitty stares at me intently before capturing my hand in hers. She rubs her thumb back and forth over the slashes—a permanent reminder of agony music will never be able to fix. “The scars aren’t so deep the ink will make them more pronounced.”

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