Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
I weave through the sea of bodies, the Christmas music drowned by the conversation and laughter of the guests, and grab a plate at the end of the buffet.
Morgan’s right behind me and gives a little squeal. “Dad got cheesecake bites again!”
“And those pesto pinwheels.” And so many other favorites. Mo and I load up our plates. Just as I top mine off with a white chocolate truffle, Garett, one of The Limelight’s bartenders, catches my eye.
“Save some for the rest of us,” he jokes.
He’s smiling, but his eyes look smug. Like he’s just scored a point. His gaze sweeps down my body, then back up.
“This is our party,” Morgan says, oblivious to the weird unease skating over my skin as I turn away from Garett. “We can eat as much as we want.”
I knock the side of Morgan’s shoe with mine, and she gives me a sharp look. “What? It’s true.”
Yeah, but we sound like brats , I tell her with my eyes. “Come on, let’s get some hot chocolate.”
“Yes please! ”
After a quick stop at the beverage station, we dodge guests to the thankfully unoccupied couch. If I have to answer one more “how’s school going this year?” or explain why I plan to study music instead of becoming a rock star before I get some nourishment in me, I might pass out.
After setting my Santa mug of cocoa on the coffee table, I tuck my velvet dress hem beneath me before lowering to the cushions with my plate in my lap.
Just as I pop an entire deviled egg into my mouth, the sea of bodies filling the room shifts, giving me a straight shot to where William and Theo are talking with some of dad’s friends.
William’s wearing black chinos and a crisp dress shirt with mini red checks, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
Is it weird that I am secretly in love with his sexy-as-hell forearms?
His dark hair looks in need of a trim because there are curls at the nape of his neck.
As if sensing my eyes on him, William glances my way.
Heat shoots up my face, and I cover my mouth with my fingers so he doesn’t see my full cheeks.
His eyes brighten the way they do when he’s about to tease me.
I glare back, but it only unleashes more of his smile.
The crowd shifts again, blocking my view.
After we drop off our empty plates in the kitchen and thank the caterers, Dad catches my eye and beckons us over to where he’s talking to two guys I don’t recognize.
One is tall with a buzz cut, wearing tight black jeans and a black button down, the collar open, no tie.
The other is more stocky, his white-blonde hair in a low ponytail and matching scruff on his face.
Morgan groans in my ear when I take her hand and lead her toward them, but pastes on a polite smile when we’re introduced.
“Halsey and Steve both grew up in Finn River,” Dad says, lifting his wine glass. “Now they’re in the music biz.”
If Morgan was a match, those words just lit her ablaze. “What kind of music?” she asks, rocking on her toes.
Halsey smiles. He’s the tall one with the buzz cut. “All kinds. I work for the marketing arm of Now Live Entertainment. ”
“Concerts and music festivals,” Dad adds. “Like the Sasquatch Fest at The Gorge.”
“That’s right,” Halsey says with a nod.
Morgan gives me a quick are-you-fucking-kidding-me? glance before Steve adds, “I’m a producer at Valhalla Records, in LA. Fun fact, I played my very first gig at The Limelight fifteen years ago.”
“Wow, that’s so cool!” Morgan says, practically vibrating next to me. “Do you still play?”
Steve’s stoic face cracks with the hint of a smile. “Not nearly as much, but yeah, for fun sometimes.”
In my peripheral vision, a guest passes behind me. The moment I realize it’s Garett, his knuckles brush across my ass.
I freeze, my heart thudding in my ears. I’m afraid to move. Afraid to look. Because did that just happen?
“Your dad told us about your show last month,” Halsey says, breaking through my skittering thoughts. He smiles at me. “You guys have more shows planned?”
My surprise mixed with the lingering unease makes my tongue feel too big for my mouth. “Uh, we?—”
“We might play at Creekside this summer,” Morgan says.
Dad frowns. “We haven’t decided yet.”
“Creekside, huh?” Halsey says, eyebrows raised. “That’s quite the venue.”
“Nic said he’d put in a word,” Morgan adds, avoiding Dad’s scowl.
Steve levels a calculating stare at the two of us. “Nic Salazar?”
“Yep. After our show together, he’s really taken an interest in us.”
This is a major stretch. Since that night, Nic’s all but ghosted us, which suits me just fine.
And even if his casual promise were to actually go somewhere, Boxcar Doves is by no means ready to play for an audience of that size.
Not with seven songs to our name and not with the way Crosby and Mo constantly bicker about everything.
Plus, between school, finishing my driving hours, and summer youth symphony, I won’t have much time for Boxcar Doves .
I knock the side of my shoe against Morgan’s, but she ignores the warning.
“You guys gonna play for us tonight?” Halsey says before sipping from his beer.
Before I can protest, Morgan loops her arm around mine. “Would you like us to?”
“Hell yeah,” Steve says, cracking a grin.
“We can’t crash the Christmas party like that,” I protest. A part of my awareness is still on high alert. Where did Garett go? Is he watching us?
“These are music people, right?” Halsey says, giving the room an appreciative glance. “I bet they’d love it.”
Dad arches an eyebrow. “We did talk about it.”
And I said no.
“Come on, Char, pleeeease,” Morgan begs.
“One song,” I say.
“What? At least three.”
“Your ‘A Carol of the Bells’ is impressive,” Dad says, his eyes lighting up. “Why don’t you play that?”
“No.” I shake my head. As much as I’d like to be known for a piece with high difficulty, the better choice is to give the guests something fun to listen to, even sing to. And “A Carol of the Bells”—in duet, no less—isn’t a piece you can whip up cold.
“Yeah, too hard,” Morgan says with a twist of her lips. “I’ve got it,” she says, grabbing my hand, rattling off our set list on the way to our rooms down the hall.
“Let’s knock those two industry dudes flat,” she says, offering me a high five.
She looks so happy right now. With no trace of the sour attitude she’s so capable of. Or the sullen way her eyes glaze over when she’s bored, which is often. How can I turn her down?
“You know it.” I smack her palm. At the very least, it’ll get whatever that was with Garett out of my mind.
Taking measured breaths to keep my flutters from spreading, I pick up my violin from my room, then follow Morgan, the noise of the party growing louder with every step.
If I was with the quartet, it would be ten times easier.
I’d get to keep my eyes on the sheet music and not the crowd. I wouldn’t have to sing.
As I weave through the living room, William comes in next to me. “I wondered if you guys were going to play.”
When I don’t reply, his eyes tighten with concern. “What’s wrong?”
I bite my lip. “I…nothing.”
“Hey,” he says in a kind voice. “Just take it one note at a time, okay?”
A soft warmth pulses through my chest. Of all the things he could have said, somehow this hits just right. Enough that I can muster a smile. “Okay.”
I replay William’s words in my mind as I tune up. As usual, Morgan’s energy carries me through. She’s so easy to accompany, with her confidence and the way we can read each other. Our final song gains us some whistles. One is Will’s—since that night at The Limelight, I have it memorized.
After our performance, guests return to mingling.
I snatch up another white chocolate truffle then head for my room to drop off my violin.
But once I’m there, I all but slump onto my bed.
Nibbling my truffle, I peer out my window, past the bare aspens to the street, which is still packed with cars.
Playing for all those people was a thrill, but it drained the last of my social battery. I’m ready to crawl into bed right now.
Just a little longer. I lick the bit of melted chocolate coating from my fingertip and flick off my light, then nearly bump into Garett.
“That was some fancy playing, Charlie.”
Where did he come from? “Thanks.”
I try to walk past him, but he steps in front of me. Quick, like a cat. “No need to rush off.”
My breaths kick up. What is he doing? “I should get back to the party.”
He smiles, but his eyes are hard. “Nobody will miss you for a few minutes, right?”
Alarm bells explode in my brain. I dart to get by him, but he snakes an arm around my waist, stopping me in my tracks.
“I saw the way you looked at me.” He gives my ass a hard squeeze with his other hand. “You liked it.”
“Stop!” I jerk away and shove against his side. “Let me go!”
“Hey!” someone calls from the hallway.
Garett pulls his hands away just in time for William to charge. “Did she give you permission to touch her, asshole?” He slams Garett back into the wall. Hard.
“Jeez, take it easy!” Garett barks.
William lunges, hitting Garett in the face.
Garett hits back. It’s too dark and they’re a blur, but the hard thuds and grunts and cracks are enough for me to know that William is going to beat the crap out of Garett if I don’t do something.
“Will, stop!” I cry when Garett stumbles back, his hands covering his face.
“You broke my fuckin nose!”
Breathing fast, Will stares him down. “You so much as look at her again, I’ll break a lot more than that.”
Garett slinks down the hall, still holding his nose.
Breathing fast, William spins to me, the planes of his face sharp in the darkness, his chest heaving. If I didn’t know him better, I’d be frightened.
“Are you okay?” I ask him.
But it’s like he didn’t hear me. “Sweetheart, did he hurt you?” The tenderness in his tone shatters the last of my panic. In its place comes a confusing mess of feelings. Anger. Shame. A sense of vulnerability I’m desperate to smother.
But he called me sweetheart . “No,” I finally manage.
“Does that guy work at The Limelight?” William asks.
“He’s a bartender. ”
William glances down the hall, but the party’s rolling on, unaffected. Did anyone even notice Garett leaving with a bloodied nose?
The relief that I’m safe makes my knees wobble. I lean closer to Will, my fingers bracing on his waist.
“Hey,” he says in a soft voice, those eyes filling with compassion.
“I’m okay,” I say, blinking back tears.
With a heavy sigh, he draws me to his chest.
I don’t think, I just curl into him. That initial relief feels even more powerful inside his embrace. I let it wash over me. I’m safe. With William, I always feel safe.
He wraps his arms gently around my shoulders, and we stand there breathing. His wildly beating heart slows against my chest, like holding me is calming for him too.
I soak in one more slow inhale, drawing his scent all the way into my lungs, then step back. “We should get back to the party.“
William’s eyes turn pained, but before he can say anything, Theo slips into the hallway, his gaze locking with mine.
I brace for his reaction to the lingering tension between Will and me or questions about Garett fleeing the party, but my worries take a backseat when Theo beckons me close. “I think Morgan’s drunk,” he says in my ear.