Page 41 of One Last Encore

"It’s a girl." Finn smacked Reef’s arm. "Holy shit, dude, Beck ispining."

Reef let out a slow, knowing hum, like this all made sense now. "That does explain a lot," he agreed. "The moody sighing. The random daydreaming. The way he just muttered ‘damn it’ like three times in a row."

Finn gasped dramatically. "Beck. Are you–" He placed a hand on his chest. "Are you in love?"

Beck groaned. "Both of you shut up."

"Oh no, no, no," Finn said, grinning like a madman. "This is too good. What’s her name? Who is she? Because you wouldn’t ruin your emotionally stunted streak for just anyone."

"I’m thinking a beach wedding," Reef mused. "Or, wait. Are you more of a rustic barn guy? Nah, too much hay. Allergies would ruin the vibe."

Finn nodded sagely. "True, true. Beck strikes me as more of a courthouse guy. Quick, efficient, minimal suffering."

Reef exhaled. "Disappointing. No romance, no grand gestures? I thought you had an artistic soul, man. What happened to the tortured musician thing?"

Beck, absolutely done with this conversation, grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at Reef’s face. "Shut up."

Reef barely dodged it, laughing. "Oh, you are so screwed, dude."

Beck finally dropped his arm from his eyes and scrubbed a hand down his face. "It’s not a big deal," he muttered.

Even as the words left his mouth, he knew they were the worst kind of lie, the kind that didn’t even convince him.

Because it was a big deal. A stupidly big deal.

She was in his head, setting up camp like she owned the place. Rearranging furniture, painting the walls, hanging up pictures of her smug little smirk just to torture him.

He’d been with plenty of women before, but most of them only saw him for sex. The ones who didn’t, he never let get close enough. He didn’t want responsibility, didn’t want the weight of expectations or the effort of anything real. Relationships took work, and Beck had never been willing to put in the work. He hadn’t even had a real relationship.

But now? Now, every time he closed his eyes, there she was. Ingrid, laughing, smiling in that way that made him want to grab her and kiss her just to see if she’d do it again.

For the first time in his life, he wanted more.

Reef was right.

He wassoscrewed.

CHAPTER 13

INGRID. HALLOWEEN, PRESENT

“I miss you in the smallest ways. Like when I catch myself smiling at something you would’ve rolled your eyes at, or when I find myself reaching for my phone just to tell you something that made me laugh. You're not here, but you’re everywhere.”

Letter dated October 30th, 1 year from the present

From her fifth-floor fire escape, Ingrid watched the bustling street below. Kids in costumes tore down the sidewalk like candy-fueled gremlins, their tiny plastic pumpkins smacking against their knees as they screamed at full volume.

Her gaze drifted to a trio of girls tottering past in sky-high heels and barely-there outfits, laughing like they didn’t have a single regret. Ingrid snorted. She’d been that girl once, teeteringon five-inch stilettos, armed with false confidence, questionable choices, and vodka that definitely came from a plastic bottle.

Now, she was wrapped in a blanket burrito with a glass of wine, judging everyone from her perch like a seasoned hermit who’d seen some things.

Freddie stretched languidly beside her, green eyes locked on a toddler twirling below in a fluffy black cat costume, complete with pointed ears and whiskers painted on her face. Freddie’s tail swished lazily, her interest clear.

Ingrid sighed, addressing her cat with the kind of exasperation only a cat owner could understand. "Freddie, she’s not a real cat. It’s Halloween, you fool."

Freddie ignored her, as usual.

"On Halloween, anyone can be anything, Freddie," a deep, teasing voice murmured to Ingrid’s left.

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