Page 35 of Next Time I Fall (Excess All Areas 2)

“Do you know who else has had a vocal coach? Celine Dion, with her five-octave range that takes her from whispers at her lower register to those soaring high notes she’s famous for. You remember how Lady Gaga did thatSound of Musicmedley for the Oscars?”

Jase rolled his eyes. “Do I look like I watch the Oscars or give a shit about a musical medley?”

“Fair point, but she worked with a vocal coach for six months to nail that. And there are vocal coaches who are unknown but make the singers who they are.”

Okay. Fine. It wasn’t what he’d feared. “Your dad thinks I have a decent voice?”

Cerys’s eyes went so wide he thought they were literally going to pop out of her head. “I wish you could hear yourself the way the rest of the world hears you, Jase. You have an incredible voice. The purity of your notes when you hold them, the vibrato when you want to. You have so much vocal control. Is that why you hold back?”

“Hold back from what?”

“All of it. I’ve seen you in the studio. You have some great thoughts, but you don’t commit to them.”

Wave.

Wave.

Wave.

“What do you mean, I don’t commit?”

“Okay. Let me give you examples.”

“Jesus Christ, Cerys. Can we go back to you in bed and me on the deck?”

Cerys let go of his fingers. “I’m sorry. Am I pushing too hard?”

Jase ran his hand over his face and pushed his hair back. “Yeah, sunshine. You are. Let’s go make some breakfast while you share with me the litany of examples you probably have stored up in there.”

He tapped her forehead gently. He took her hand again and led her to the kitchen, where he lifted her onto the large marble counter. His hands fit comfortably on her waist. “Sit there while I make eggs.” He grabbed a pan, then some eggs and the fresh bread they’d bought from the store to make scrambled eggs on toast.

Cerys slipped down off the counter.

“I told you to sit up there.”

She put her hand on her hip and cocked it. “I’m going to make fresh coffee.”

“Fine.” He could do with a jolt.

“You let the band steamroll you.”

“We’re a democracy. I always lose the vote.”

Cerys shook her head as she scooped coffee into the filter. “But that’s because you aren’t certain of the validity of your own opinion, and quite frankly, you’re a dick when you express them. I overheard part of your argument on Friday before I left. The comment you had about the drums on ‘Tell Me This’ ... It was spot on the money. They did come in too fast; the song hadn’t built enough. Why did you back off?”

“Because Luke is the drummer. He knows best what works.”

Cerys huffed. “You were right about the percussion and layering. It’s too busy and too pop for your sound.”

“I know. But your dad keeps edging us towards the song that went viral. When we recorded that song, we all felt a bit iffy about it. We don’t play it all that often. It’s perhaps the lightest rock we’ve recorded.”

“So, again. You backed off. Fear is the death of creativity, Jase.”

“I’m not afraid,” he said, slamming the spatula down on the counter.

Cerys raised an eyebrow in the direction of the spatula.

Jase followed her gaze. “I swear to God, if you saywaveone more time ...”

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