Page 75 of Hope & Harmony

The Night We Met

PROLOGUE

MADISON

I’m not sure when I started hearing the music.

Time is funny like that when you’re unconscious.

All I know for certain is at some point, in place of the beeps and the quiet voices and the soft footsteps, I began to hear music. A gentle strumming on the guitar and a warm, raspy voice that settled something in my soul as I lay there in my hospital bed, only slightly aware of what was happening around me.

I knew I was hurt. I knew I was tired. I knew I was getting poked and prodded.

But it was a muffled mess.

Except for that voice and the sound of the guitar.

It became what I yearned for.

Day in and day out.

When I finally opened my eyes, I didn’t know it would be several years before I would hear it again.

CHAPTER 1

MADISON

“Are you sure you should be going out? It’s late.”

I lick my lips and try to school my expression, knowing my sister only has my best interest at heart.

“I’m just going to the gym,” I reply, glancing over to where she sits sideways on the couch, her textbooks open in her lap and her legs stretched out in front of her.

She tilts her head to the side, considering me for a beat. “Why don’t you call an Uber?”

“It’s only five blocks, Avery. I’ll be fine.”

I want to tell her I’m done with this song and dance every time I go to the gym at night. Or the grocery store. Or out with friends.

But I don’t. I never do, and I can’t tonight of all nights.

Her face stays slightly pinched, making it clear that my response hasn’t alleviated any of her concerns. “Alright, well…call if you need me, okay?”

I give her a tight smile. “Will do.” Then I tug the front door open and head out into the hallway, letting out a sigh of relief once I hear the soft thud of it closing behind me.

Freedom.

Much needed, if I’m being honest. The feeling rushes through me once I make it down the elevator and emerge onto the street, the sounds and smells of the city enveloping me as I turn left, heading toward Union Square. I try to remind myself in situations like this one that my sister is looking out for me. She has great intentions and is just worrying because of what happened, but she’s my baby sister.I’msupposed to be looking out forher, not the other way around.

I rotate my shoulders and then decide to set the interaction aside like I always do. The reality is that I’m lucky to have people in my life who care about me enough to worry, people who just want to make sure I’m doing okay.

It takes less than ten minutes to get to the gym, and once I’ve scanned in at the front, I jog up the stairs, heading for the treadmills that overlook the park. Thankfully, the late hour means there are a few available, and I smile to myself, stepping up onto one at the far right.

This is why I like to work out late. Fewer people means I get my favorite spot, and I don’t feel pressured to hurry up. This is a busy gym, and on more than a few occasions, I’ve cut my workout short because people loom around me, waiting for their own chance to hop on the machine.

Not tonight, though.

Once I’ve tugged my hair up into a loose ponytail at the top of my head and put in my headphones, I click a few buttons and begin a slow-paced jog.

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