Page 82 of Perfect Pitch

Seconds later, she’s sliding into the back of the town car and driving away, taking a piece of me back home to Texas with her.

* * *

Hours later, I grapple with how many bags I’m dragging back into the condo. Between what I brought to the Plaza, the purchases my mother made for me, and the gifts I bear for Trevor, I struggle to open the door.

That’s when it flies inward, and Trevor announces, “Hey, Austyn, you just missed...”

And, predictably, he stumbles on his crutches.

Instinctively, I drop everything and reach for him before he can fall. Only it turns into a complete disaster. Somehow, my feet get tangled in Trevor’s crutches. Both of us go flying, with me, landing on Trevor in between his legs.

Hard.

I cringe when I see his wince. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. Your poor foot!”

He shudders.

I immediately roll off him and get to my feet. Reaching for the first crutch, I shoulder under his other arm and hobble to the couch. Once he’s there, I look closely at the bead of sweat on his face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you worse.”

“You didn’t mean to.” But his eyes are wild with agony.

“Did the doctor prescribe you pain meds?”

“Just grab me some Tylenol,” he grits out.

“On it.” As I whirl into the kitchen, I come up short. There in front of me is a flower bouquet of all the colors of my hair. I approach it slowly. “This is so beautiful.”

Trevor’s silent as I get closer only to find my name on the card sticking out the top. “Trev?”

“You won’t know unless you look.”

I pick up the card and stare at the decidedly masculine handwriting before slipping a nail under the envelope and sliding the card out.

Austyn,

Once I saw them, all I could hear was your incredible voice.

Until I see you again.

Mitch

“I told you, Mitch came by,” Trevor reminds me.

My head whips in his direction. His eyes are curious, amused.

“Yes, you did.” I lift a hand to touch a soft petal. “Do you know Mitch is the only person who’s given me flowers besides my family?”

I don’t hear what Trevor has to say to that because just then my phone pings with an incoming message. I slide it from my pocket and read Mitch’s text.

Mitch:

Tonight? Dinner? I’ve escaped the asylum.

Quickly I write back,

Austyn:

I’d love to.

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