Page 41 of Symphony of Salvation

Constance sat on the sidelines, on the bottom row of the bleachers. When Cody approached, he held out a hand. My stomach dropped when Constance took it and let Cody pull her to her feet. He guided her to a group of nearby students and seemed to make introductions.

Constance waved, and only when Coach Blaine blew the whistle did the knot of teens break up. Cody offered Constance a beaming smile before jogging back onto the field. Constance, no longer alone, joined a group of girls who looked like they’d welcomed her into their fold.

Friendship. Hadn’t I wanted that for her?

“You knew they’d be out here.” I tore my gaze from my daughter and glanced at Niles. His soft expression and warm smile kept plucking that low chord.Thrum.

“Yes. But I also wasn’t worried because I know Cody’s a good kid with strong morals and values. He’s a people pleaser, sometimes to his detriment. He’s also the person who makes sure everyone is included, no matter their differences. I’m not saying he doesn’t have teenage hormones. It’s obvious in the way he looks at Constance that he’s halfway in love, but this is where we have to put trust in kids to make the right decisions, and if not the right decisions, then at least make informed decisions.”

I felt stupid and inadequate. I was supposed to be offering my skills as a musician to the music department, but I’d spent the entire first week listening to parenting advice from a man with no kids of his own.

Unsure what to say, I turned back to the scene out the window, following the ball as the teens chased after it.

“You’re not a bad parent,” Niles said.

“I’m not a good parent.”

“You haven’t had much practice, is all.”

The heat of Niles’s gaze warmed the side of my face. I peered back to find him still watching me. In the low light of the ramshackle storage room, high above the field, and with only the filtered sunlight highlighting his features, it was hard to ignore how alone we were. With seclusion from the world came freedom from the restraints I’d felt bound to for decades.

“You’re staring at my mouth again.” His voice was a husky whisper.

I jerked my attention from Niles’s lips, unsure when I’d become so transfixed. Heart pounding, I focused on the winter scene, on the teenagers playing a made-up version of a game—on my daughter.

I did not focus on my budding desire for the man at my side. I had enough regrets and enough problems without adding more.

Chapter ten

Niles

August toyed with the buttons on his jacket as he peered out the window, but his gaze was as clouded over as the winter sky. He wasn’t seeing the game, his daughter, or the boy who ignited his fatherly fury. August had slipped between realms. Whether evaluating an event from the past or considering future outcomes, I couldn’t be sure, but I’d lost him.

Worry dug crevices into his forehead. The playful, purposefully arrogant side that had taken over warmup scales and shared winks and smiles today was gone.

I’d unintentionally hit a nerve.

Vocalizing my observation had the opposite effect than what I’d intended. Augusthad beenstaring. It wasn’t up for debate, and Koa was right. Straight men—or rather, someone with no inclination toward the same sex—did not stare at another man’s mouth. Without alcohol to dampen my receptors or blur my memory until I questioned the message delivered from my eyes to my brain, no doubt remained.

But August didn’t seem to want to address it. In fact, the mere mention seemed to prickle his spine.

Silence stretched long and taut like a bowstring tightened to its limit, threatening to break. It thrummed and sang with tension until I couldn’t take it anymore.

“I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I wasn’t staring at your mouth.”

I inadvertently chuckled. “Except you were.”

“I wasn’t.” August’s whip-snap tone shut me up.

A defensive man was generally a guilty man, but I refrained from pointing it out.

Color rose in August’s cheeks. He tugged at his tie more than once, wedging a finger between the crooked knot and his throat as though he couldn’t breathe. Twice, he undid the buttons on his jacket before fitting their tiny heads back through the tight nooses.

Outside, Coach Blaine’s whistle blew. Teenage voices carried on the crisp winter air, shrieks and laughter.

Inside, August’s chest rose and fell as he fidgeted and sweated.

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