Page 83 of The Heartstrings of Harry
I didn’t say anything. Just stared down at the trampled grass underfoot.
She stepped a little closer, lowering her voice. “Harry… he’s angry, yeah. But mostly he’s confused. Embarrassed. This is uncharted territory for him.”
“It’s uncharted territory for all of us,” I said, then shut my mouth again, kept my eyes down, hands flexing uselessly at my sides. I could feel the shame burning behind my ribs. The fight was playing on a loop in my head…
The look on Andy’s face…
The weight of a lifetime of friendship crumbling between us.
“He’s your best friend,” Madeline said gently. “And yeah, this… this caught him off guard. But that’s not how your story with him should end.”
I finally looked up, meeting her eyes.
“You should try again,” she said softly. “Talk to him. When he’s calmer. Whenyou’recalmer. Don’t let the way it happened this morning be the end of it.”
I nodded slowly, throat thick. God, I knew she was right.
But the fear of standing in front of Andy again, of taking another swing at that conversation, of risking another punch to the face—or worse, another punch to the friendship—that fear sat heavy on my chest.
“I just…” I swallowed. “I don’t wanna push him. Not if it’s only gonna make it worse.”
Madeline reached out, gave my arm a gentle squeeze. “Just… give him another chance. He’s a good man. And so are you. That’s why you’re best friends.”
The music outside faded, the last chords of the soundcheck ringing through the park.
Madeline gave me one more nod, then stepped back, leaving me standing there surrounded by Dean’s face on a hundred pieces of glossy merch, the ache in my chest louder than the speakers outside.
I knew what I had to do.
I just had to find the courage to do it.
DEAN
The soundof the gates opening echoed through the walls of the dressing room marquee—a hum of excitement as the first wave of concert-goers surged into the park. I could almost feel the buzz of it vibrating through the ground beneath my boots.
I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection in my black skinny jeans and loose white tank, with a leather jacket waiting on the hook by the door.
All I had to do was walk out there and be the version of myself they all came to see.
I’d never felt less like him.
The entrance to the marquee opened behind me. I looked up in the mirror—and there was Harry.
He hovered there for a second like he wasn’t sure if he should come in, then stepped inside, closing the flap behind him.
His eyes found mine right away.
“How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” I nodded.
“I’ve been looking for your dad. But I can’t find him anywhere. I’ve asked around—nobody’s seen him since this morning.”
I nodded again, slowly, staring down at my hands.
“Maybe he just needs space,” I murmured, though my chest ached as I said it.
Harry crossed the room, crouched down in front of me, one knee on the floor. His thumb brushed over the back of my hand. “We’ll figure it out,” he said softly. “Just… not tonight. Tonight, you need to focus on you. On the show. We’ll deal with the rest tomorrow.”
