Chapter Forty-Six
Penny
Two years ago
I swear, if I have to listen to this chorus one more time, I might shove a cymbal through the wall.
But God, how I love this. Listening to their music, the way Beau and Eli complement Maddox in the riff, the way Austin sets the pace perfectly. This is why I do what I do.
Okay, sure, I might not be able to carry a tune to save myself or sing a note like my songbird sister—apparently, she got all the Deveraux musical genes—but taking something unrefined and turning it into greatness?
That’s my talent. Yet producing the last ever Sip Station track recorded at Big Sky Studios is bittersweet.
I lean back in my chair, inhaling the electrical smell I’ll never get enough of, peering through the dirty glass into the studio.
Beau’s slumped on the beat-up couch in the corner, neck craned back, eyes closed, with Eli resting on his shoulder.
Austin’s out cold on a pile of coats beside them, the clock on the wall ticking past midnight.
“You know this is our sixth hour straight, right?” I tease, swinging my legs, an energy drink between my knees.
Maddox sits at the soundboard, headphones covering one ear, in the zone like always, brow furrowed, one hand running through his hair as he listens to the same track for the umpteenth time, chasing something the rest of us can’t hear.
“No one’s making you stay,” he murmurs, not looking at me, though there’s a smirk tugging at his lips.
“Lies. You know my boss would have my ass if he found out I left you guys here alone.” I lean forward and snag a Cheeto from the bag beside him. “Besides, you love me being here. I bring snacks, drinks, excellent conversation…”
Maddox grins at the console, shaking his head. “You also eat all the red Skittles and change the whiteboard to mess with Eli when no one’s looking.”
I smile, shifting in my chair, pressing a hand just below my ribcage where a dull pressure’s been lurking all night.
He chuckles, finally leaning back and glancing at me. God, when he smiles properly, it’s unreal, like his face forgets it’s supposed to be serious all the time and just…lights up.
In moments like this, I get why I fell for him.
Even if it was always going to be one-sided.
“You good?” he asks.
Cheeks warming, I nod, glancing away. “Yeah. Just…can’t believe you’re leaving this place. It’s gonna be weird not having you guys around all the time.”
“We’re leveling up,” he teases. “Feels like we’re finally pushing toward something bigger. New studio. Bigger space. Better gear.”
“Hey.” I nudge his arm. “Are you saying this isn’t good?”
I point to the taped-up mic on the desk, the one we use to talk to the artists through the glass. He laughs, removing the headphones and setting them down.
A comfortable silence stretches between us, and I fiddle with my necklace, twirling the long chain around my finger, then letting it uncurl. He rolls his head to the side, cracking it loudly, his tired eyes meeting mine, a faint smile on his lips.
There’s something easy about being next to Maddox. Maybe that’s why this crush has lasted so long. It’s not that I think we’d work—hell, I know we wouldn’t. He’s too intense, too wired to the music, too…him.
But still.
In moments like this, when I really look at him; the angle of his jaw in the soft studio light, his lashes shadowing eyes that feel like they look straight into your soul, it’s hard not to want more than friendship.
Something shines in the corner of my eye, and I gasp, lunging forward, reaching under the sound desk and stretching along the floor.
“What are you—?”
I grin, popping back up with a coin between my fingers, reciting the rhyme my sister loves so much. “Find a penny, pick it up. All day long, you’ll have good luck.”
Maddox’s lips twitch, barely disguising his amusement. I hold it out to him, nodding toward it.
“Here.”
He rolls his eyes with a chuckle, opening his hand.
“What?” I laugh as I place it in his palm. “Since I won’t be at your new studio, you can’t have this Penny”—I point to myself—“so you can have that one to bring you luck.”
He stares at it and snorts. “You’re a dork.”
I pick at the hem of my shirt, a flurry of nerves rushing through my stomach. “I’m gonna miss this,” I say before I can stop myself. “You. Here.”
As he turns, something shifts in his expression. “Penny…”
And that’s all it takes. Call it exhaustion from too many late nights, or how final tonight feels, or maybe it’s just me being impulsive again, but I lean forward and kiss him, soft, quick, barely a breath between friends.
He doesn’t kiss me back.
His body goes rigid, and he pulls away, scrubbing a hand along his jaw.
“Pen…” he says again, and there’s something in his voice that makes my heart drop.
“Shit.” I laugh, already shaking my head, burying my face in my hands. “Oh my god. I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not,” he rushes to say, his chair creaking as he leans toward me.
“I am,” I insist, smiling too wide, already backing away. “That was so dumb. I just… It’s late, I’ve had way too much caffeine, and clearly not enough self-respect.”
His brow pinches as he looks at me. “Wait…”
“No, seriously, it’s fine.” I wave him off. Grabbing my coat, I fumble with the sleeve, mortification rushing hot beneath my skin. “Let’s pretend that didn’t happen, okay? I made it weird. I read something that was totally in my head. I… I’m gonna go.”
He stands, concern etched deep. “Don’t leave. Just talk to me.”
I dig into my pocket, find the studio keys, and toss them to him on my way to the door.
“Lock up behind you.”
Fuck Steve and his rants tomorrow.
“Please, don’t go.”
Shaking my head, I laugh lightly, the sound more of a squeak than anything else. “I really need to go. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”
I’m out of there before he can say another word, darting through the foyer and out to my car. I slide into the driver’s seat, click my seatbelt, and start the ignition as my phone connects to the speaker system automatically.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” I mutter, tapping the wheel as I back out of the space.
“Hey!” Paige’s voice fills the car, and I exhale, some of the embarrassment ebbing away.
“Okay, before you say anything, I did something really stupid.”
“What kind of stupid?” She sounds amused. I picture her in her apartment in New York, papers scattered across her bed, writing some song that’ll no doubt be on the charts as soon as it’s released.
“I tried to kiss him.”
Silence.
“Paige?”
“Oh. My. God.”
“I know.” A groan turns into a laugh, the sound caught between hysterical and horrified. “He was being all focused and kind and hot and I just sort of went for it.”
“Wait, you actually kissed him?” Paige asks, and I hear the rustle as she shifts around.
“Attempted. It lasted all of point-three seconds before he shut it down.” I wince to myself, flicking on my indicator. “God, I’m such a dumbass.”
“Oh my god, Pen.”
“I know, it’s fine. We’re fine. He was nice about it, and now I get to live with the memory of my fuckup every time I go to work.”
“And you’re still not going to tell me who he is?” she teases, prying like always.
“God, no,” I say, voice too high. “If he were into me, then yeah, maybe. But I don’t need my little sister knowing the name of the guy who turned me down. That’s just embarrassing.”
A sharp pull tugs in my chest, and I wince, shifting in my seat. It’s probably the adrenaline comedown, or just the humiliation finally hitting its peak. I press my heel to my ribs, trying to ease the pressure.
“Boo, you suck.”
“Whatever.” I chuckle, breathing through the twinge. “Are you coming home this weekend?”
“You know it,” she says, and I can practically hear her smile. “I’ve got so many new songs to show you.”
“You need to be on stage, girl,” I say, sounding like a broken record. “What are you so afraid of? Why won’t you do something that will make you happy?”
“I am happy,” she protests.
“Really?” I grit out, grimacing. “You enjoy being someone else’s footnote?”
“Yeah…”
It’s a lie, but I don’t push further.
Twisting my body to shake off the ache, I grip the steering wheel, needing to get off the phone. “Listen, I gotta go. Call me after class tomorrow?”
“Yup. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I hang up, still grinning, her voice warming me from the inside out.
But the smile barely lasts a breath as the pressure in my chest blooms, tight and sharp and hard, like someone’s driving a fist straight through my ribs.
My fingers tighten on the wheel, the road ahead starting to swim in my vision.
I blink hard, trying to clear it, but it doesn’t help. If anything, it gets worse.
Panic starts, dissolving all logic as pain explodes across my chest, rips down my arm, and curls over my collarbone. I gasp, struggling to breathe, and my foot slips on the accelerator.
Something’s wrong. Really wrong.
I need to pull over.
A horn blares. Headlights glare through the windshield. The world shifts.
A screech of tires. Metal screams against metal.
A bone-snapping jolt, and the taste of iron.
Blood floods my mouth.
Then…
Nothing.
Still.
Heavy.
Final.