Page 121 of Crescendo

“Ha. You’re starting to sound a little like her.”

She smiled wider. “Hey, maybe she’s right that we could all use a little more confidence in ourselves. You especially.”

I shrugged, sinking down in my chair. “Maybe. But you’re the one who was helping her find that rock sound.”

“Don’t be jealous. You know she liked playing with you more.” She froze as if she realised she’d spoken in the past tense. It stabbed through me like a knife. “You’re a little too proper to help her understand really dirty rock, Doc.”

I laughed, shaking my head as we both tried to step delicately around the slip. “I like rock, thank you.”

She shot me a look. “Sure. To like, sing in the shower or the car or something, but we both know that piece they’re about to play is going to be a masterclass in classical composition.”

“Masterclassis massively overselling it.”

“We’ll see.” She stood, pausing to look at me and I refused to meet her eye. “Has she heard it?”

“No.”

She sighed.

“Not all of it, anyway. I… changed it a bit when she…”

Hannah clapped a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll regret it if you don’t let her hear it first.”

“You’re just as blunt as she is, aren’t you?”

“No point beating ’round the bush. It’s hardly gonna make owt worse at this point, is it?”

I laughed. “You sound like my dad.”

“Your dad’s a Scouser?”

I shook my head. “Yorkshire.”

“Ah, well, at least he’s not a Manc.” She laughed and winked, and all I could think about was everyone singing Oasis together so many days ago now. How far we’d all come. She nudged me with her knee. “Now, stop being soft and send it to her. We’ll get the scran in and you can join us when you’re ready.”

I watched her walk away, leaving me alone in the auditorium. It was four in the morning in LA. Lydia probablywouldn’t even be awake by the time we made it to my piece. Everyone was still going to hear it first.

But I could try. I could choose to give it to her first.

She could choose whether to listen to it. She could decide whether she wanted to reply or not.

Enough running.

I pulled up our conversation again, trying not to linger too long on the picture attached to her contact info.

I should have sent this earlier. I hope it’s good to be home and composing is going well!

There was a lot I should have done earlier, but here we were.

I pulled up the file—already waiting on my phone to send her—and set it free, and then I went to lunch with everyone else. Lydia’s presence still a noticeable, painful gap in the group.

I slipped away from them for a minute when we got back to Crescendo after lunch. I’d spent the whole time thinking about her, about the message, about all the things I should have done before, and there was one more thing I needed to do.

I headed back into the mostly empty auditorium and dropped into a seat, pulled the conversation up again, and added another message.I miss you.

I jumped, fumbling my phone and rushing to put it away, as someone dropped into one of the open seats beside me. The others had said they were grabbing coffee for the afternoon. I thought I had longer.

But it wasn’t them.

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