Page 78 of The Sound of Us

“We can’t fault musicians for wanting to reach more people,” I countered, scrambling to find a way to justify my actions. “Taylor Swift reinvented her sound and became a world-famous artist. Success doesn’t always equate to selling out.”

“It’s a betrayal.” Skye slammed her fist on the desk. “True success in the music world has to be earned. It has to be authentic or you’re just pretending to be someone else.” For the first time since she’d entered the room, she looked directly at me. There was no warmth in her eyes. No smile on her lips. I’d betrayed her trust and had unwittingly cut deep to the heart of what she struggled with most.

“Maybe we should focus on giving people the benefit of the doubt,” I offered, my voice tight. “There could be other reasons for their choices. We shouldn’t assume that commercial success equates to a betrayal of their original vision.”

We segued into a discussion of specific bands and the conversation became less heated and more like the usual banter that made Skye so much fun to work with. The time passed quickly and Nick opened the studio door as soon as we were off the air. “Noah wants to see you right away.”

“Noah?” Skye jumped up from her seat. “What’s he doing here?”

Noah waved us into his office and directed Skye to close thedoor. I hadn’t seen him in almost a week, and I was unprepared for the drastic change in his appearance. Hollow-eyed, gaunt, pale, his cheeks sunken, Noah looked like he’d aged ten years and lost twenty pounds. The collar of his pink shirt gaped at his neck and his bolo tie hung askew. A feeling of dread crept over me and I gripped the nearest chair to steady myself.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

“Don’t bother to sit down,” he said, gesturing to my hand. “You’re not here to chill out and relax. What the hell is going on?”

“Why are you here?” Skye demanded. “You’re supposed to be—”

“Away.” Noah cut her off with a glare. “Those plans changed, and thank God because I tune in to the station only to hear two people bickering under the thinly veiled cover of the most boring of musical debates.”

“There was no debate,” Skye said. “I found out that Dante funded the internship. I saw a letter from the university on his desk naming me as the recipient. You must have been in on it, too. I wondered why you picked me after my terrible broadcast, but now I know I got the position because Dante must have felt sorry for me. He never thought I’d make it on my own, so he likely made you hire me in exchange for donating money to the station. You didn’t really me want me.”

I was floored by how close she’d come to the truth, but it just proved she had the makings of a great journalist, and it was a small comfort that I had helped her on that journey.

“I recommended you to our board of directors because you were the right candidate,” Noah said. “I did not know beforehand that there was anything going on between you and Dante. The board had the ultimate say and they could have refused my recommendation, but they agreed with my choice.”

“He’s not lying,” I told her. “My grandmother left her estate to me. I wanted to help the station, so I offered to fund the internship. I did want it to go to you because I didn’t want you to lose your place in the journalism program, but Noah wouldn’t even let me give him your name. He said it had to be fair.”

“Fair?” She gave a bitter laugh. “I would be shocked if Noah didn’t figure out right away that I was the person you wanted him to hire, especially after you showed up at the station for the interviews. He would do anything for you. He loves you like a son. There is no arm he wouldn’t twist. No hill he wouldn’t climb. There is no fair when it comes to you.”

“Skye…” Noah coughed, choked. He sipped some water, coughed again. Then he doubled over, coughing violently. He grabbed a tissue to cover his mouth and it came away full of blood. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. A cold sensation skittered across my skin and my eyes fixed on the dry coffee pot beside his desk. When was the last time I’d actually seen Noah drink a cup of coffee? This wasn’t a new illness. He’d been sick for a very long time.

“Should I call Bella?” Skye crouched down beside him. “Do you need to go back to the hospital?”

I had a sudden feeling that the floor wasn’t stable anymore. “Backto the hospital?”

“He’s been there all week,” Skye said, handing Noah a glass of water. “Bella came to look after him.”

I couldn’t process what I was hearing. “How do you know?”

“I went with him in the ambulance on Monday morning.”

“You took him there?” Fear found an outlet in anger and my body started to shake. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He didn’t want you to know because you have your LSAT tomorrow. He didn’t want you to worry. I’m pretty sure that’s why he’s here and not in the hospital. He was afraid you’d wonder where he was.”

I couldn’t process what I was hearing. “What’s wrong with you, Noah?”

“Pancreatic cancer,” Noah sighed. “It’s terminal. It spread everywhere. I didn’t think you were ready to hear it.”

Terminal.

I’m sorry, your mother didn’t make it.

I’m sorry, your sister’s gone.

I’m sorry, your grandmother passed away.

No. No. No. No.This wasn’t happening. Not again. It was just a bad dream.

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