Page 92 of Unlocking Melodies

I glanced at Caleb, still being thoroughly investigated by Luna. “Any chance you'd be up for some cat-sitting while I help Nina?”

“Are you kidding? Quality time with Her Royal Highness? I'm in.” He was already setting up what looked like a cat paradise in my living room. “Go save The Watering Hole from customer service chaos.”

The bar was packed when I arrived, Friday night energy in full swing. I fell into the rhythm easier than expected - muscle memory apparently extended to drink mixing too. Past Jimmy's detailed notes about regular customers' preferences actuallycame in handy, though I still couldn't remember learning any of it.

“The usual?” I asked Hank, who nodded appreciatively.

“Good to have you back, son,” he said, and something about his tone made me think he meant more than just covering a shift.

The night blurred into a parade of familiar faces and drinks I somehow knew how to make. By closing time, exhaustion had settled deep in my bones, but it felt good. Like maybe I was finding my place again, even if I couldn't remember how I'd found it the first time.

The walk home was quiet, streetlights casting long shadows across familiar sidewalks. Music drifted from the festival grounds where tomorrow's celebration would bring the whole town together.

That prickling sensation returned as I walked - the same one from the pet store, but stronger now. The shadows between streetlights seemed longer, darker, like they were reaching for me. My steps quickened automatically, that instinct for self-preservation that had survived even memory loss kicking in.

A car passed too slowly, its headlights painting everything in harsh relief before plunging the street back into darkness. My phone felt heavy in my pocket - one call and Jake would probably be here in minutes. But what would I say? That the shadows felt wrong? That some part of me remembered being afraid like this before?

The festival grounds loomed ahead, strings of lights swaying gently in the autumn breeze. Just a few more blocks. Just a little further.

Footsteps behind me - too measured, too purposeful. I didn't turn around. Somehow I knew that would be worse. My heart hammered against my ribs as I picked up my pace, trying to look casual while every nerve screamed danger.

A memory flickered - running through different streets, fear tasting like copper in my mouth. But before I could grab onto it, pain exploded through the back of my head. The world tilted sideways as my knees hit concrete.

My vision swam, streetlights blurring into strange patterns above me. Through the gathering darkness, a different scene emerged - Rosewood Academy's practice room at midnight, Ethan's smile soft in the dim light as his fingers danced across piano keys.

“I'll always find you,” his voice echoed from somewhere far away.

Then everything went black.

Chapter 23

Breaking Point

The boardroom's pristine glass walls felt more like prison bars this morning. Reuben and Hayes had been tag-teaming their presentation for what felt like centuries, their voices droning on about market projections and strategic concerns that were so obviously manufactured I was almost impressed by their creativity.

Almost.

My phone remained stubbornly silent. No good morning text from Jimmy, no cat photos, no updates about Luna's latest conquests of household furniture. The absence sat like lead in my stomach, making it hard to focus on Reuben's increasingly desperate attempts to make inflated numbers look legitimate.

Mia's elbow found my ribs with surgical precision. “Focus,” she whispered, but I caught the concern in her eyes. She knew my morning routine by now - knew that Jimmy's silence was as unusual as my father showing genuine emotion in a board meeting.

“What do you think, Ethan?” Reuben's voice dripped with fake collegiality, his smile reminding me of a shark that hadwatched one too many corporate training videos. “About these concerning trends?”

I stood slowly, buttoning my jacket with deliberate care. Eight years of corporate warfare had taught me the value of timing, of making every movement count. Mia's subtle nod told me she had my back - and probably several contingency plans ready.

“What do I think?” My voice came out cooler than the building's overpriced air conditioning. “I think this presentation is the business equivalent of a child's creative writing assignment - imaginative but ultimately fiction.”

The room went silent. Even the usual keyboard clicking from the tech department representatives stopped.

“These numbers,” I continued, moving to the front of the room with measured steps, “are about as real as your commitment to innovation. You've manipulated data to support a narrative that even a first-year business student would see through.”

Reuben's face had achieved an interesting shade of red. “Now see here-“

“No, you see here.” I pulled up my own presentation with a casual tap on my tablet. “I spoke with Miller Tech yesterday. Their concerns? None. The integration? On schedule. Your attempts to manufacture a crisis? Transparent at best, desperate at worst.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket, but this wasn't the moment to check it - not when I had Reuben exactly where I wanted him.

“Furthermore,” I continued, enjoying the way sweat had started to bead on his forehead, “your focus on my travel schedule is particularly interesting. Tell me, how's your investment in Miller Tech performing? The one you thought no one knew about?”

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