Page 73 of One Last Encore

"My cat," she explained, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"When can I meet him?" Beck leaned in slightly, his grin widening.

"Her," Ingrid corrected. "Off to a bad start already. But soon. If you play your cards right. Freddie doesn’t warm up to just anyone, so she’ll be a challenge."

"I don’t mind a challenge," he said, smiling knowingly.

"Yeah, I bet," she mused, half-teasing.

"What about your family?" she asked, more gently now. "You seem close to your grandmother."

His smile faltered. His fingers tapped lightly against the table as he thought of where to begin.

"I was," he said, his voice quieter. "She was sick for a long time and passed away three years ago. She was more of a parent to me than my actual parents ever were. My father left when I was a baby, and my mother… well, she’s inconsistent in my life, to say the least."

"I ended up staying with my grandmother for most of my childhood because my mom struggled with addiction," Beck admitted. "There were times I felt completely lost growing up, but my grandmother was always here for me. She even got me my first drum set from a yard sale and let me practice in her garage, no matter how loud or terrible I sounded. She said drumming was my ticket out of Pennsylvania. And, well… she was right."

A wistful smile tugged at his lips as he remembered her.

"She didn’t have much, but what she did have, she shared with anyone who needed it. That’s just how she was. She was my rock, the one person I could always count on. Losing her… that was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through."

"She sounded like an incredible woman," she said quietly. "I’m really sorry you lost her, Beck."

"She was," he nodded, a fond smile softening his features. His fingers traced patterns on the table idly, the nostalgia tugging gently at his chest. "She loved ballet. Always made me watch The Nutcracker, Swan Lake, anything she could find on cable. As a kid, I hated it. Thought it was boring as hell. I’d sit there, fidgeting, counting the minutes until it was over. But as I got older, I started to see how mesmerizing it was, the precision, the storytelling without words. It’s... incredible."

His gaze flickered to Ingrid. "When I saw you that day during the audition, it felt like fate, in a weird way. Like we were meant to meet." He hesitated, his voice quiet. "Does that sound strange?"

Ingrid paused, a small smile tugged at her lips. There was no mocking, no teasing. Just a kind of knowing.

"No, not weird at all," she said gently. "It’s quite beautiful, actually."

Her hand squeezed his just a little tighter, her thumb brushing against his knuckles.

"I wish I could have met her."

"She would have adored you. Sweet, but you don’t take any shit," he said with a chuckle.

"Especially not from you," Ingrid shot back, her caramel eyes warm and inviting, drawing him in like quicksand.

"Finished teasing me?" he asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

She nodded. Leaning in, he let his breath mingle with hers, his voice a low whisper against her lips.

"Good, because I still want to kiss you. Now more than ever." His lips met hers, and the world around him blurred, leaving only the warmth of her lips and the beating of his heart as he found himself falling deeper.

CHAPTER 21

INGRID. MID NOVEMBER, FIVE YEARS AGO

"Add a bendy thing at the big drum roll?" Beck suggested, as he twirled a drumstick between his fingers like some kind of rhythmic show-off. Honestly, it was borderline criminal how smooth he was.

"Bendy thing? Is that the technical term?" Ingrid deadpanned, arching a brow as she executed a perfectly controlled plié.

"I don’t know," Beck mused, tapping his chin with the drumstick. "Can you technically do that on my face?"

Ingrid gave him a long, unimpressed look. "Technically, you’re an idiot."

Beck grinned. "And yet, here you are, hopelessly charmed."

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