Page 79 of Second to None

“Good,” Ellis said, still smiling faintly.

He didn’t push for more, and I didn’t offer as we finished our coffees. Pool water reflected sunlight in shifting patterns, and yeah, I was still achy, reverberations of Levi’s words swirling behind my lids each time I blinked, but my lungs felt just a hint wider now.

Ellis checked his phone, then stood up. “I should head out—dad duties. Call me anytime, yeah?”

“Thanks,” I told him, pretending it was the sun that made me blink rather too quickly.

He squeezed my shoulder. “Always.”

I was left alone, waiting for the day’s heat to rise and my pulse to settle, the steady brightness of reality sinking deep into my bones.

* * *

Downtown LA,Saturday, September 6th

It had been a week.

One week since Levi had told me to get the fuck out and I did; one week that seemed laughable compared to those five years I’d spent without him. But it had stretched like a decade.

Stages of grief—Jace had mentioned them when we’d talked on Monday, even though he’d been just as convinced as Ellis that Levi would come to me.‘Just give him a hot minute to cool his tits, yeah?’

‘Did you talk to him?’I’d asked, and no, Jace hadn’t.

So, stages of grief.

Stage one, denial. Been there, done that—numb disbelief on the flight home, my eyes closed, shutting out my thoughts. Stage two, anger. Skipped, because I had no fucking right when I’d broken us first. Stage three, bargaining. I’d stopped myself from sending Levi a message on Monday, a plea to talk,please, just talk to me. Stage four, depression. Maybe, yeah. But if so, I kept it at bay, stayed busy, did a photoshoot for an ad campaign, makeup caked thick to hide the bruise-like circles under my eyes, sat down for an interview that blacklisted all questions about my sexuality when I wanted to scream and shout, and recorded the demo version of a song for my next album.

Today, I was holed up in a studio room, its walls clad in faded wooden panels that had absorbed decades of sound. The dials and sliders of a sprawling mixing console were worn to a soft sheen, thick rugs strewn across the floor. It wasn’t shiny or sleek, but the acoustics were good, and I’d needed to get out of my house. Plus, I was here to audition new guitar players—my life already lacked privacy, and I didn’t want strangers trampling through my music room.

Usually, I enjoyed this kind of scouting—a chance to discover someone rare and true, someone who’d embrace the chaos of a live show and bring their own ideas to my sound. But, fuck. I wastired.

Stage four. Right.

All three candidates had been excellent—I’d expect no less from my team’s rigorous preselection. But I hadn’t felt that instant click with any of them, a sudden spark of energy that told me yes, this was it,yes. Thing was, the problem might be me.

I was about to call my musical director to say we’d need a second round, come back fresh, and to please apologize to the candidates for the inconvenience. That was when Frank checked his phone, then glanced up at me.

“There’s one more,” he said. “Just walked in.”

“I thought it was only three?” I asked.

He shrugged a shoulder, an odd flicker in his eyes. “This one’s a special request.”

Oh, Jesus—not some stupid hidden camera thing. I so wasn’t in the mood.

Before I could utter my protest, Frank crossed over to open the door. “Please come in,” he said, carefully neutral.

And in walked Levi.

My heart went silent. So did the space around us, nothing but the low, electric hum of an amp and the quiet click of the door as Frank left us alone. Levi’s shoulders were set, his jaw tight, cradling a guitar like a precious object.Myguitar—the one I’d left behind because I couldn’t stomach looking at it anymore.

“You...” I had to start again, voice too high and thin. “You’re not here to audition.”

Levi’s mouth edged up at the corners, uncertain. “In a sense? Mostly, I just knew you’d be here. Mason told me.”

Mason. Of course—and Jace and Ellis must have been right there with him, invisible threads that held us together. I inhaled a slow breath and tasted salt. A week. Aweek, and now that Levi was here, all my words had left me.

He took two steps closer, the distance between us cut in half, another step, and held the guitar out to me. “Here—it’s yours.”

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