Page 45 of Once Upon a Boyband
“Yeah. Some.”
Freddie, on the other hand, looks almost entirely the same. He’s as tall as I am, but he’s just as lean and lanky as he was when Midnight Rush was still Midnight Rush. His dark hair is long and a little shaggy, and I can see tattoos visible on one forearm and at the open collar of his shirt. He looks every bit the rockstar he’s become, but he still looks like Freddie, too. Like the kid from Seattle who stood next to me in line at the final Midnight Rush audition, smiled with uncanny confidence, and told me it wasn’t aquestion ofifhe was going to be a star. Only a question of when.
A beat of silence passes between us, and a tightness forms in my chest. I’m not sure what to say to Freddie.Howto say anything at all. It’s been eight years since things fell apart, but right now, it feels like we’re right back on the lawn outside the funeral home the day after I buried my mother, my three best friends looking at me as I tell them I’m walking away from Midnight Rush for good.
“Jace and Leo say hello,” Freddie says. “I just saw Leo in Nashville last week. And Jace has another kid on the way. This will be his second.”
“Wow. That’s—good for him.”
Jace was always the one who seemed the most excited about getting married and having a family, so this doesn’t surprise me. He was never big into dating around. Every girl he met, even when he was sixteen, he talked about her like he’d just found his soulmate. There were at least a dozen soulmates in the three years the band was together, but the last one actually stuck. A model from Australia named Jasmine, whom he married on his twenty-second birthday.
At least, according to Sarah, who fills in the gaps between my cursory quarterly searches.
“And now you’re getting married,” Freddie says. “Laney seems nice.”
I clear my throat. “Yeah, about that. Laney and I aren’t actually engaged.”
Freddie frowns. “No?”
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “We’ve been texting. And we had dinner last weekend. But I made up the engagement because Kevin wouldn’t stop hounding me about the reunion. That man will not take no for an answer.”
Freddie chuckles. “What I love and hate about him the most.”
I don’t understand how Freddie is still working with Kevin after all these years, but he must see some value in keeping him around. Especially now, when he could have his pick of agents.
“I told him I needed to focus on my fiancée, but I clearly wasn’t thinking because I didn’t even consider that he’d tell you. But of course he would.”
Freddie’s quiet for a beat before he says, “I gotta admit. It stung hearing news like that from Kevin instead of you. Even after all the time that’s passed, I’d like to think you’d call me if you were getting married for real.”
I lean forward, elbows propped on my knees, eyes on the floor. I’m not actually sure Iwouldcall him, and that realization sends shame washing over me. Cutting ties with all three of them was a matter of survival, the only way I knew how to deal with the guilt and grief surrounding my mother’s death. It’s been easy to convince myself it was the best way, the only way for me to keep living my life asAdamand leave that part of me behind for good.
But now, with Freddie sitting in front of me, looking at me, talking to me just like he did when we were kids, I’m not so sure.
I’ve missed him. I’vemissedhaving friends who know me.
“She’s a vet,” I say. “Laney. That’s how we met. She takes care of the dogs for the rescue.”
I don’t know why I’m telling him this. As if opening up now will somehow negate the many years I didn’t reach out. That isn’t usually how friendship works. But I also have to remember that Freddie is here for a purpose. He didn’t just come as my friend. He came as an artist who wants my help.
“So that’s what this place is?” he says. “A dog rescue?”
“Sarah and I run it together.”
His expression shifts. “Sarah. Man. She’s all grown up.”
“And dating someone,” I say. “So don’t get any ideas.”
He smirks. “Noted. Appreciate the heads up.”
The silence stretches between us, broken only by Freddie’s continued tinkering on the piano. I brace myself for what I know is coming. This is when Freddie is going to ask. Put the pressure on. Remind me he’s the reason I was able to walk without losing a ton of money.
But he doesn’t say anything like that. He hardly says anything at all. He just stands and moves to the guitar rack on the wall, where he carefully removes the Gibson. He slides a hand over the neck and lets out a low whistle. “It’s a sweet instrument.” He holds it out to me. “Come on. Let’s play something.”
I look up, eyebrows furrowed. “Right now?”
“Why not?” Freddie says.
I take the guitar, and he moves back to the piano bench, positioning himself in front of the keys.
