Page 45 of High Note

“No, I’m good.” Skyla wasn’t sure what to say or what to do. All she knew was that she’d really messed up somehow. Surely this wasn’t really all her fault. Was it?

It couldn’t be. Could it? Fuck.

She wasn’t that big of a bitch. She just needed a little space and a little time to figure this whole thing out.

Like could she actually, honestly be in love with Kirsten? Was that what that deep ache was?

Goddamn it. This was not how she had intended her evening to go. She just wanted some laughs with the band, nothing serious, nothing earth-shattering—a pizza, a beer, then some time alone in a bedroom where she could just sleep and rest.

But no. No, they had to go and make a great big deal out of this whole thing.

Or maybe…

Maybe she just needed to make a big deal out of this whole thing.

“You’ve got to stop driving yourself crazy, honey,” Brenda muttered, her voice soft and weirdly gentle. “You’re just going to end up making a big mess out of things.”

Tell her something she didn’t know. That there was one of the reasons she was doing this, wasn’t she? To keep people from getting hurt?

“You sound like my granny,” she shot back, and then a horrified thought hit her in the pit of her belly.

Granny.

Oh good Lord and butter. What on earth was she gonna tell her granny?

Now she was more than a little sick to her stomach, the scent of the spicy tomato sauce redolent and unavoidable.

“You don’t need to worry about that, honey. Worry about the important things.”

She stared right at Brend. “Like what?”

“Like whether or not y’all are gonna stay in that little rented apartment, or if you’re gonna find yourself something else while you’re in town.” Butter wouldn’t melt in Brenda’s mouth.

“Don’t make me hit you.”

Kirsten was back, this time with parmesan cheese, napkins, and red pepper flakes. “Oh, Brenda, that apartment is not big enough for two people, five cats, and a dog long term. You do love the bathtub, though. Maybe we could buy the whole building, just take it over. It could become a compound slash dog rescue slash music room slash recording studio. You know, with stuff and things.”

Kirsten gave her the naughtiest little grin and wink, and Skyla considered just popping her in the nose.

“Oh, you both just shut up! Good Lord. You’re both assholes.” Skyla was starting to giggle though, because this whole thing was absolutely asinine. “I guess I’d better text everybody and apologize, huh?”

Brenda shook her head. “Man, give them a few to wallow in their own crapulence. Hell, don’t do it until tomorrow. I won’t tell.”

“Fair enough.” She looked up at Kirsten, and it hit her like a brick. She didn’t want to spend the night alone. Not at all. “Idon’t suppose I could come over to the house after you get off work…”

Kirsten nodded like it didn’t mean a thing. “I’ll give you my key so you can come back to the house before I get off work. I’m working late tonight—midnight.”

Oh. Oh, dude. That was big way bigger than she was expecting. “Thanks, honey. I appreciate it. I’ve made everybody angry…”

Brenda snorted. “Not everybody. Some of us understand.”

“Yeah.” She reached out and squeezed Brenda’s hand. “But everybody shouldn’t have to.”

Kirsten couldn’t believeshe’d done that. She had just given her key to the woman that she’d known for nine days. She’d handed her key over, then let her go into her house with the cats and all of her guitars.

Not that her guitars were anything compared to Miss Skyla’s guitars, but still they were hers.

The restaurant was closed, and they were doing their side work and cleaning up the tables, all the stuff that they did after everything was locked and the lights were out.

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