Page 104 of For One Night Only

“And then we can talk about the future of the band,” Riker says. “I think it’s time.”

I groan, unable to hide the shame rising in my chest. “There’s no future,” I say. “I’m not asking you to get back together again.”

“Maybe we want to,” Riker says. “You’d know that if you asked us.”

I sigh, extracting myself to the kitchen to start dishing up. Theothers follow, and Riker grabs plates while Jane pulls the salad out of my fridge. “I think I need to be done.”

Jane purses her lips. “Is that why you’ve been writing? Because you’re done?”

“How did you…?” But she’s nodding at the open notebook on the counter, the one Keeley is flipping through—no privacy, but then again, I shouldn’t have left it out if I didn’t want it to be found.

“This is really good, Quinn. Did you write this for Caleb?”

My stomach churns, because she found last night’s song.

I nod. “I sent it to Wade, thinking maybe I could record it, send the proceeds to charity or something. I just don’t think an apology is going to be enough. But now, I’m not really sure I want to put it out there.”

The three of them share a look and seem to decide something.

“We could produce it, if you wanted help,” Jane says, nudging me gently. “I have access to a studio. Contractually, you might owe it to Label after your announcement, but at least the personnel could be some familiar faces.”

My chest warms at the offer. “I don’t know…” I say. “I’m probably just going to put my heart out there only for it to break again.”

“You’ll never know unless you try, though,” Keeley says.

The thing is, she’s right. Caleb has my heart, and if there’s any possibility he would hear me out, I have to take it. Maybe it’ll all come to nothing, but if there’s even a chance this will reach him, even a chance he’ll consider talking to me…

“He’s worth it,” I say. “I want to try.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Riker says, leaning back against my counter. “Is this the moment when Heath Ledger sings with the marching band?”

I grin, letting his enthusiasm stoke the last ember of stubborn hope in my chest. “You’re damn right it is.”

34

Caleb

Ten days after the concert, I’m back at work and trying to be happy about it.

The kids don’t start school again for another two weeks, but we have in-service days: mostly training and rehashing old procedures, all the routine stuff no one tells you about until your first teaching gig.

But it’s fine. Less glamorous than anything else I did this summer, but normal is good. It’s what I wanted, right?

I’m still so defeated after the concert that it’s hard to say. Life without Valerie is dull and uninspiring. Now that I know what was going on that night, I constantly wonder if she’s okay. I grab my phone a dozen times a day, hoping the latest notification will be from her.

It never is. The only way I “see” her is when Jane uploads another of the instructional videos we recorded to the channel, and it’s one where Valerie is talking about her approach to singing harmony. Past Val grins at me from my spot behind the camera, and the flashback of joy, of being together with her in that moment, islike an electric shock to my senses. I watched it on repeat until my phone died last night. Maybe I should reach out, but I’m not sure she wants to hear from me. Maybe it wouldn’t have changed the outcome, but I wonder what would have happened that night if I’d stayed. I’ve made a bad habit of leaving her over the years.

But I can’t change the past, so I try to move on, focusing on work and my family. Cameron and I tried to remind our mother that she needs to be more involved after Carrie’s little road trip, but I’m not sure she gets it. Still, I think she felt chastised enough that she’ll get through this year without incident.

Hopefully.

At least I got my check for the concert. After it hit me that leaving in the middle of the show might put me in violation of my contract, I spoke to Wade. He didn’t say anything about what I did, just agreed to reach out, and the check came through a few days later. As soon as it cleared, I went to my bank’s financial adviser and put a chunk into a college account for Carrie. It’ll be enough to get her through a couple years, and if she gets the scholarships she deserves, then it would cover her full room and board so she doesn’t have to work while she goes to school.

She’s already had to grow up so much, and I really want her to be able to relax and do her homework, even go to parties, make a few bad decisions. She deserves to get the college experience that I never did.

I finally told Carrie about the money over coffee before she went back to Mom’s, and she started sobbing right in the middle of the cafe. It reminded me all at once that I did this for her. If nothing else came out of my ill-fated return to the limelight, at least my baby sister will be okay. She can pursue her dreams without worrying about the money, and if it all falls apart, she knows she has a soft place to land.

When Glitter Bats first started up, I had to work part-time at abakery to pay for my own instruments, plus my share of the gas and food and hotels when we were touring. It meant a lot of late nights studying—and a dipping history grade that nearly cost me my high school diploma—but I pulled through. My dreams cost me a lot.

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