Page 19 of Unlocking Melodies

Footsteps in the hallway broke the tableau. Liam appeared, stopping short at the sight of us. The temperature dropped another few degrees, which I wouldn't have thought possible.Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for... something.

I shifted uncomfortably, feeling like an actor who'd wandered onto the wrong stage. Everyone else knew their lines, their marks, their motivations. I was just standing there with coffee dripping down my shirt, trying to figure out why my heart was doing gymnastics in my chest.

“I apologize for the collision.” Cole's voice was perfectly modulated, like he'd run it through some kind of emotion filter before letting it out. But there was a rough edge underneath, like something trying to break free. “Please send me the cleaning bill for your shirt.”

The formality felt wrong, like hearing a familiar song in the wrong key. But what did I know? Maybe this was normal. Maybe expensive suits and careful distance were just how things worked in the music industry. Maybe my racing pulse was just caffeine and anxiety and not...

Not what?

I watched him retreat to a corner table, all controlled grace and perfect posture. He pulled out his phone, probably to handle whatever important business brought tech billionaires to small-town bars before noon. Not that I knew he was a tech billionaire. That was just an assumption based on the suit and the way he moved like someone used to people watching him.

“Jimmy?” Nina's voice was gentle again, the ice reserved apparently only for Mr. Cole. “Let's get you cleaned up.”

“I have a spare shirt in the truck,” Liam offered, but he was watching Cole's back with an expression I couldn't read.

“I'm fine,” I said, though I wasn't sure why I was protecting a stranger's feelings. “It's just coffee.”

“It's never just coffee,” Nina muttered, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

I wanted to ask what that meant. Wanted to ask why everyone was acting like we were in a play where I'd forgotten all my lines. Wanted to ask why I could still feel those green eyes on me even though Cole was very deliberately not looking our way.

Instead, I said, “I think I need some air.”

“Want company?” Liam asked carefully.

I shook my head. “I just need to...” To what? Process? Breathe? Figure out why a coffee stain and a stranger's careful distance felt like missing the last step on a familiar staircase?

“Take your time,” Nina squeezed my arm. “We'll be here.”

I headed for the door, very aware of the weight of multiple gazes on my back. Just before I stepped outside, I glanced back. Cole was still at his table, still staring at his phone, still perfectly composed. But his coffee sat untouched, and his free hand was clenched so tight his knuckles were white.

The morning air hit my face, and I took a deep breath. Somewhere in my missing memories was the key to whatever scene I'd just stumbled through. Somewhere was the reason Nina's voice went cold and Liam's went careful and my heart decided to run a marathon in my chest.

The coffee stain on my shirt had gone cold and sticky, but my skin underneath felt weirdly hot. Like a sunburn, but localized exactly where those expensive imported beans had marked me. Which was probably not a normal reaction to coffee. Then again, what about this day was normal?

I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to stave off the headache building there. More mysteries. More half-conversations. More people talking about me like I was a puzzle missing its most important pieces.

Movement caught my eye, drawing my attention to the window. Cole sat at his corner table, phone forgotten in his hand, watching me with an intensity that made my chest tight. The moment our eyes met, something flickered in my mind:

Different lighting, warmer. The same green eyes crinkling at the corners. Laughter over spilled coffee in a practice room, his expensive sweater ruined but he didn't care because-

Gone. The memory vanished like smoke, leaving me with nothing but the echo of a laugh I couldn't quite hear and the certainty that I'd just lost something important. Again.

Cole's table was empty now. Only the untouched coffee and a generous tip remained, like he'd been a mirage that disappeared when I blinked too long.

“Jimmy?” Nina suddenly appeared, trying too hard to sound casual. “The supplier's on line one about those vodka shots. Want me to...?”

“Handle it,” I finished, still staring at the empty table. “Please. I need to...”

I gestured vaguely at my coffee-stained shirt, but what I really needed was to understand why a simple business text felt like a letter written in code. Why the ghost of spilled coffee and shared laughter haunted me more than all the other memories I'd lost.

"Take your time," Nina said softly. She hesitated, then added, "Sometimes not remembering is easier than..." She didn't finish the thought, but she didn't have to. The weight of everything I couldn't remember pressed against my chest like a physical thing, and somewhere in that void, green eyes watched me with carefully hidden pain.

"You know," she continued, her voice gentle, "you can take more time off. No one would hold it against you. The bar will still be here when you're ready."

I shook my head, maybe too quickly. "I need this, Nina. Need something normal, even if I can't remember what normal used to feel like. Sitting at home just makes the blank spaces feel bigger."

She studied me for a moment, understanding softening her features. "Alright. But promise me you'll say something if it gets too overwhelming. We're here for you - all of us."

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