Page 70 of Fa-La La-La Land
But all I feel is afraid.
Mom’s words ring in my ears. I want to believe that accepting bad things will happen is the quickest way to let go of fear. I want to hold on to these minutes I’ve been given to love Rhys. But what I’m afraid of isn’twhetherbad things will happen—it’s not knowingwhenthey will.
Dad never got to turn thirty. I guess part of me believes if I can make it to that age, I will have cheated death long enough to feel like my life won’t be cut short if I die.
While I get the cocoa and sugar from the cabinets, Seb calls.
“Hey, what’s up?” I take the call over speaker so I can mix up the hot chocolate while we talk.
I scoop a cup of cocoa while simultaneously dreading and hoping Seb and Mom are almost home. I need more time alonewith Rhys, but I also don’t want to face the awkwardness that’s settled between us.
“Weather’s pretty bad down here, and it’s headed your way.” Seb’s voice crackles over the line, dropping in and out. “We’re going to stay the night. But if it’s as bad as the weather report’s saying, we may all be snowed in for a few days. Canyon road’s already closed.”
“Closed?” I dump the cocoa, then snatch up my phone in a panic. “Rhys is supposed to fly out tomorrow. He’s got rehearsal for Winter Lights tomorrow night.”
“Not anymore, he doesn’t,” Seb answers matter-of-factly before ticking off facts about the storm being the worst in a century. In the middle of a sentence, he goes quiet.
“Seb?”
No answer. We’ve been cut off.
With a sigh, I look out the kitchen window. In the time since I’ve come inside, the snow has fallen harder. There’s at least another six inches.
When Rhys comes down from his shower, his hair black and glistening, I hand him his hot chocolate, then take a deep breath. “There’s a big storm coming in. The canyon road is already closed.”
A deep line forms between his eyebrows. “So, is the concert canceled?”
He sounds disappointed. Helooksdisappointed. Slowly, I shake my head. “No, people nearby will make it to the show, but unless the Department of Transportation opens the road, you’re not getting to the airport tomorrow night.”
The line across his brow grows deeper, but not with worry. More with confusion. “What do you mean I can’t get through it? There’s not an airplane or helicopter or something that could pick me up?”
“Not in this weather. Visibility is too low to navigate through the mountains.”
“We’re just…trappedhere?”
I nod.
“For how long?”
“I don’t know. Could be a few days. Right now, predictions are this storm could be one of the worst in a century. I know you’ve got your rehearsal, but better to miss it than to risk your life trying to get there.”
Rhys’s eyes open wide. He’d forgotten about the rehearsal. I see it on his face.
He drops his head and lets out a frustrated sigh. “What do I do now, Stella? I’ve got to be at that rehearsal. There’s choreography to learn; I’ve got to connect with the band Danny’s bringing in and practice the song he gave me. I can’t be stuck here for days on end.”
His voice rises, and he paces across Mom’s small kitchen.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Rhys. I can’t change the weather.” My voice cracks, and his eyes dart to my face.
Whatever he sees there smooths away his anger. He sets his mug on the kitchen table, then sits down. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I was the one who wanted to come here. I’ll call Danny and tell him I’m not gonna make it. We’ll figure it out.”
“We will.” I’m so relieved he’s not angry—that he wants me to help him solve this problem. We can put our last conversation behind us and focus on getting him and his fans ready for Winter Lights. I circle my arms around his shoulders and nuzzle the back of his neck. “The good news is there probably won’t be many people at the Garden with this weather, which makes it easier to keep your location secret. Maybe you could practice the Winter Lights song with Adam and Bear.”
He runs his hands along my arms, then loosens them from his neck. “Maybe. It’s not a bad idea, Stella.”
I unwrap myself from him and give him the space he clearly wants. He’s not angry. But he didn’t call me La-La. And I wonder if he ever will again.
Chapter Twenty-Three
