Page 56 of Rock Strong

Wes pressed his forehead into mine. “Remember what I said. Do what makes you happy. Follow that heart of pure gold, Liam. You’ll hate yourself if you don’t.” He patted my back a bunch of times and kissed my cheek.

Wes was the fucking best.

On the sleeper bus later that night on our way to Milwaukee, Corbin showed Tucker a video on his phone of one of the roadies playing electric guitar. On cue, I pulled out my phone to look at my pics of Abby, including the one I took of her at Robbie’s party, when I couldn’t resist how fucking cute she looked just standing there by that potted plant. For the hundredth time, I watched the video of her playing the cello at my grandparents’ house.

For at least an hour, I watched Abby over and over, swaying to her own music, absorbing her own melody, getting lost in the deep richness of the cello’s tones. Her black locks with brown highlights cascaded over her shoulders. Closing my eyes, I listened to her play Serenade and imagined her lying next to me as the notes washed over me. A vision flowing in red, she’ll demand respect, bring you to your knees, boy, she’ll make you bleed…

I saw her dark brown eyes in the morning light. I smelled the sweet scent of her skin and saw the way her skin flushed when she reached orgasm. I felt her hand on my shoulder and running light circles all over my back when I pretended to be asleep.

“A vision flowing in red, she’ll demand respect, bring you to your knees, boy, she’ll make you bleed…” I whispered, my words flowing on the cello’s breeze.

I missed her.

I wanted her.

I would work to fix what went wrong.

And I would never make the same mistake again.

Chapter 19

Abby

Skulking home from the studio, it was hard not to miss Liam, not to miss Rosemary and the whole tour, but I was home now, and home was nice. I spent time with Juilliard friends Kim, Jaromir, and Millie, practicing Pachelbel Canon in D together for the weekend wedding quartets we were hired to play several times a month. During my downtime, I practiced Serenade and tried not to remember what happened one rainy night in Seattle when I played it for Liam in an empty room.

Reaching the top steps of my mom’s apartment, I slid in the key and stopped. Inside, my mother spoke to someone, a quiet male voice responding just near the door. My heartbeat pulsed in my throat. Carefully, I pressed my ear to the door, but it was as if they both realized I was standing just outside and quieted. I choked back my nerves, turned the key, and pushed the door open.

There stood my mother with a big smile plastered on her face, which silently suggested to me that I ought to fake one, too. Next to her was none other than Samuel—short, dark hair, Dockers and Polo, my no-nonsense Filipino ex-boyfriend. “Hello, Abigail.”

“Samuel. What are you doing here?”

My mother shot me a look that said, Abby, how rude.

Samuel’s eyes flared in amusement. “I’m doing well. Thank you for asking. How are you?”

“I’m fine. I’m just surprised that you’re here. You didn’t call.”

“I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d stop by and bring your mother back her casserole dish that you left at my house for our last…party.” He meant last time together. That night, I’d told him that Point Break had hired me, and we’d fought over me wanting to break up. I’d left in a rush, leaving a few things there. He made a show of handing my mother her clean Pyrex, devoid of Mexican Bean Dip.

“Thank you,” my mother said. “Very nice of you, Samuel. Wasn’t that nice of him?” Ma directed her question at me.

I hated this. How many times had I been tempted to answer my mother’s on-the-spot imposition with such snark as: Actually, no, Mother. It was calculated of him. He timed it so he’d accidentally-on-purpose find me here. “Oh, yes, very nice,” I said instead, setting my purse in the foyer chair and walking past them both. I’m sure they exchanged glances behind my back, but if they were going to gang up on me, then I didn’t need to partake in their ambush.

In the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of water and drank it down at the counter, wondering if Samuel was here for anything other than to return my mother’s kitchenware. His presence entered the kitchen before I saw him. “Hi, Abby.”

I turned to him. “Hey.”

“You’re mad I’m here?”

“No, you have every right to come by and see my mom, I suppose. I can’t tell you where to go.”

“What did I ever do to you?”

“Nothing, you did nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Can we go somewhere and talk? Not to change your mind. I know you’re set with us not being together.” He drummed the fingers of one hand on the counter, held fast to the counter with the other.

Samuel may not have been the most exciting boyfriend in the world, but he knew me best, and he’d never hurt me like Liam had. Right now, he was looking like the better option. I faced him straight on. “Sure,” I sighed. “Why not?”

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