Page 100 of Audiophile

I call Amanda back with a rundown as I pack up all my things and head for the airport. “I’ll sleep there and see if I can get a standby in the morning.”

“I’ll hold down the fort here. Please be safe, Reed,” Amanda begs.

“I will. I’m sorry to leave you like this, Manda. Love you.”

“I love you too. Text me constantly.”

I call Petra from the terminal and explain my plan for the night. I worry that telling her what Kinley said will scare her, so I keep it to myself. Kinley has pushed a lot of buttons before, and my cities burned in the wake of her fire. She’s never been this determined before, and though Petra promises to be safe, it does nothing to allay my fears.

Chapter thirty-eight

Petra

I can’t sleep. It’sstill dark outside as I tear my bagel into miniscule pieces, exhausted but amped. I keep thinking I’m going to get a message that Kinley’s done something awful. As if breaking into a half-dozen cars wasn’t drastic enough. My phone buzzes, and my heart catches in my throat.

Standby flight boarding in five. Pick me up? I can’t wait to see you.

I’m still reeling over the hours I thought Reed was in serious danger. I need his face, his voice, his touch, to assure me he’s okay.

I’ll be there.

Now tell me you miss me.

A smile creeps over my face, and my ball of nerves loosens.

I’ll tell you when you get here.

It’s meant to be a joke, but he doesn’t text back right away, and I frown at my shredded bagel. Maybe he’s like me: unsteady and needing reassurance. I start to send him a new message, but a voice note comes through first.

“I’ll say it, then. I miss you, Petronia Diamante.” The bustle of airport noises fills the background. “I should’ve stayed there. I let Amanda sway me into believing that time apart might be good—take the pressure off, or clear our heads—but mine didn’tneed clearing. So when I say that I can’t wait to see you again, I mean it with all that I am.”

Oh, Reed.Though we talk for hours every day, a voice note is different from a phone call. I’m not busy processing it, waiting for my turn to speak. I can absorb it and listen to him over and over again, and I treasure it.

I’m tender as I record my own. “Time apart was good. I needed to let my family back in. To stand on my feet and lean on their shoulders. Now I don’t need a savior. I appreciate you for you, and not how you bring me to life. And I do miss you,tesoro mio.”

I knew you did, Pet. On the runway now. See you soon.

Something tugs at me, and I call Livi. I don’t bother with a hello. “I’m in love with Reed. I knowit hasn’t been long and it’s all uncertain, but it feels right—”

“Then it is. He lights you up, Troni. I’m glad you’re letting yourself see it. But if he brings you more pain than happiness, Iwillkill him.”

I wrinkle my nose, defensive. “What was he supposed to do, Liv? Not let his phone get stolen?”

She mirrors my sass. “Maybe keep it in his pocket like a normal person?”

I roll my eyes, but there’s a new warmth in my chest. Until recently, I wouldn’t have considered calling Livi at all. I would’ve relied on Silla, or not called anyone. “Thank you for being there yesterday. I love you.”

“Love you.” There’s a loud cry in the background and Livi swears. “I have to go. Call me later. And tell Reed that if Kinley comes around, we’ll show her some Diamante fire.”

“If I ever meet her, she’s getting my foot in her face. Love you, bye.” It’s not an exaggeration. I’m not a proponent of women fighting, especially over a guy, but I will protect Reed, no questions asked. The same way I’d protect Livi, or Tommy, or Hailey.

I edit my book to kill time, and make it through several chapters before Papa comes down the stairs. “What are you doing up early?” he asks.

“Couldn’t sleep. Something happened with a friend. I’m going to pick him up at the airport soon. Want breakfast before I go?”

“Please. Frittata with tomatoes?” Papa asks, switching the conversation to Italian. I nod and gather the ingredients as Papa watches me like only a father can. It’s not until I’m cracking eggs into a bowl that I shoot him a look. He raises his eyebrows back at me. “Are you picking up a friend? Or Reed? They’re not the same.”

“Reed is a friend,” I say. Papa shakes his head, as if I’m hopeless. “Papa—”

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