Chapter 37
37
KATRINA
T he only thing that’s ever made sense to me is music.
You see a note, you play it. You play it, it sounds the same every time. You play one note, then another, and another—and suddenly, you’re playing music. Sometimes it hits so hard it rattles all five senses. Even smell, somehow.
Music makes sense.
People don’t.
When one person makes sense, someone else comes along and flips the whole world upside down. Up is down. Left is right. A little stack of yellow sticky notes isn’t so mundane anymore.
But it’s not real. It’s never real.
My swing creaks beneath me, the chains stiff with rust, the seat worn smooth from decades of use. A faint autumn breeze drifts through, not even strong enough to push the empty swings on either side. My feet skim the brittle grass, yellowed and patchy, crunching softly with each idle sway.
Down the block, I hear the high-pitched laughter of kids in costumes, their buckets clacking as they dash about in search of candy and treats.
Happy Halloween.
This playground, though, is a ghost. Abandoned. Splintering wood, half-buried tires, monkey bars that groan if you look at them wrong.
For me, echoes of old joy still haunt the air. Knox and me running wild, climbing the fireman’s pole, daring each other to leap off the top of the slide. Swinging higher and higher until it felt like we were defying gravity.
Play.
Maybe my parents were right all along.
Little girls shouldn’t play. They’ll just get hurt.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I sigh, already knowing who it is, but curiosity wins.
Addison
Katrina, come home. We can’t do this without you.
The band’s group chat has been buzzing all morning. They’re out looking for me, I know that. But I’m not ready to be found. I can’t stand the idea of their faces. Their eyes. The obvious judgment behind them. Stupid little Katrina. Fell for the enemy. Let him lie to her. Let him manipulate her. Why did I fall for it? Why did I?—
Another buzz.
Addison
Without you, there is no Criminal Records.
Jordan
Agreed.
Jonah
Agreed.
Bronson
I want to believe them. But they were a band before me. They’ll still be one when I’m gone.
Gravel crunches behind me. I turn to look as Knox ambles up and drops into the swing beside mine. The old frame groans in protest but holds, keeping us suspended side-by-side.
“Damn,” he says, glancing at it. “Hard to believe this thing is still standing.”
I stay quiet.
“The city should really do something about it,” he adds. “I mean, I can see the rust from here.”
Still, I say nothing. My throat’s too tight.
He sniffs the air. “What’s that smell?”
I sigh. “What do you want?”
“A tetanus booster, to start.”
“What do you want, Knox?” I ask again.
“What else?” He shrugs. “I came to get you. We’ve got a show tonight.”
I wait until the lump in my throat settles. “I’m not going.”
“What do you mean, you’re not going?”
“I mean I’m not going. I’m not playing. I’m quitting the band.”
Knox blows out a breath, puffing out his cheeks. “Well, that seems a bit extreme.”
“Is it?” I shake my head slowly. “You want me out, don’t you?”
“Did I say that?”
“Pretty much.”
“Well, I changed my mind. We’ve gotta go, so…” He bounces on his swing, urging me to stand up with him.
I don’t move. “I’m not going, Knox. I screwed up.”
“So? I screw up all the time.”
I glance down at my shoes; the toes dusted in dry sand and playground grit. “But you never... slept with the enemy.”
“Sorry, have you met Harmony?” he quips.
I lift my eyes, annoyed. “You were right about Logan. All of you were. I didn’t listen. I let myself be wooed. I ignored every red flag because he made me feel... different.” I laugh, humorless. “Nobody wants me around now, anyway.”
“There’s a very dramatic group thread that says otherwise, but okay.”
“What about you?” I ask. “Do you really want me around?”
“I do, actually.”
“Why? So you can tell me to grow up and stop whining?”
“Aha!” He grins. “So you did read the thread!”
I turn away from his smugness. “I’m not going. I can’t. Not with him there. Not on the same stage. I…” I shake my head, the words coming out dry and broken. “I can’t.”
He lets out a breath. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t look sure.”
“Well, I am.”
“Okay. If that’s what you want.”
I nod.
He nods, too. “Then what do we do next?”
“We?”
“Yeah. We. You and me. The siblings Benton. What’s next for us after Criminal Records?”
I frown. “What?”
“Well, if you’re quitting, I’m not sticking around, either. What’d be the point?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t do that, Knox.”
“What? I’m serious. Don’t you remember what I said the day you joined the band?”
“Don’t make me look uncool,” I quote.
“After that.” He smiles. “I said Criminal Records wasn’t my band—it was our band. Without you, it’s meaningless to me. So if you’re out, I’m out. And considering what a pain in the ass that’s going to be, I’m hoping you’ll take another second to think it through and come to your senses.”
“Knox.”
“It’s fine. I’ll wait.”
“How...”
My voice cracks. My eyes sting.
“What?” He leans in, gentler now. “What’s on your mind, little sister?”
I swallow hard. “How am I supposed to... get over this?”
“Easy,” he says with a shrug only an older brother can pull off. “We get up. Head back to the hotel. Grab a drink with the others at the bar. You apologize profusely—the hardest part. Trust me, I know. But they’ll forgive you, and then we’ll all move on.”
My lip trembles.
“Oh,” he says slowly. “You mean Logan.”
I wipe my eyes with my sleeve. “It hurts so much,” I whisper.
“Yeah. It does.” He sighs, long and heavy. “Well, I’d recommend a steady diet of whiskey and snack cakes for a few days. Not much longer than that, though. Things tend to get weird.”
“Yeah. I remember.”
“But then, you get back up. You sit down at that ridiculous piano of yours, and you get back to doing what you love. That’s how you get over a broken heart.” He smiles at me, eyes warm and supportive. “Were you in love with him?”
“I thought I was,” I answer quietly. “But he didn’t… He didn’t love me back. He…” I sigh, the words too hard. “I don’t think I can talk about it.”
“Okay,” Knox says, his hand rubbing my back. “That’s good, actually. Gives me a chance to do what I do best and make it about me, if you don’t mind.”
I chortle under my breath. “Sure.”
He inhales like he’s about to launch into a long, rehearsed speech. “When I found out about you and Logan, I was really pissed off.”
“Yeah. No shit.”
“Hey, it’s me time now.” He taps his lips, shushing me. “I was pissed. Because it was Logan, obviously. Guy’s a dick. You can do better. Whatever. But later, while I was glaring at my ceiling at four in the morning, I had an epiphany. I wasn’t angry at you for being with Logan. Fuck, I understood that.”
“You did?”
“Yeah! He’s the lead singer of the second hottest rock band in the country. He’s hot as shit.”
I nearly choke. “He’s what?”
“And…” Knox grimaces, dragging the words out like they’re physically painful. “ Ignite the Night is a fucking banger of a track—and if you tell anyone I said that, it’s back to noogies and atomic wedgies for you, sister.”
“Okay…” I blink as I process that. “Then why were you angry?”
“I was angry because... you didn’t tell me about it. No, it was more like...” He stops to search for the right words. “Because you felt like you couldn’t tell me. My little sister was in the throes of her first whirlwind romance, and she couldn’t tell me. Even worse, she had to lie about it. Because she knew—rightfully—that I couldn’t be trusted with that information.” He turns, his expression softening. “Kat, I’m so sorry.”
I wipe a tear from my cheek, my fingers cold against my skin. “It’s okay, Knox.”
“No, it’s not,” he says. “It’s not okay. At all. I screwed up, Kat. And you touched on something very real yesterday in that I’ve been so self-absorbed in my relationship with Harmony that I completely lost track of you. I have no idea what’s going on in your life and that’s really fucking sad since I just spent three months on a bus with you. That’s another wonderful epiphany to have a four AM, by the way. To realize that you know more about your goddamn bedroom ceiling than you know about your little sister. That sucks. I haven’t been a very good brother to you lately, and I’m sorry. It’s far from okay. But if you’ll give me the chance, I think I can make it okay between us again.”
I nod, my throat thick.
Knox angles his swing toward mine, dragging the soles of his shoes against the dirt. “Tell me about him.”
“About him?” I ask.
“About Logan.”
I squint. “But... you know Logan.”
“I know my Logan,” he says. “I know that uptight, eyeliner-wearing douchenozzle—who is clearly jealous of me, by the way.” I roll my eyes. He grins. “But I don’t know your Logan. I don’t know the guy who made you smile. The one who, hopefully, made you laugh the way no one else could. The guy who seduced my sister under my nose.” He gestures between us. “Tell me about that Logan.”
I dab my eyes with the edge of my sleeve and sigh. “Turns out, Knox, I don’t really know that Logan, either. He never cared about me. It was all just some dumb game to break us up and win the Battle of the Bands.”
“You think so?”
“What other explanation is there?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Maybe you should ask him.”
I scoff. “No, thank you.”
“Really?”
“I don’t want to talk to him ever again.”
Knox hums low in his throat. “Well, shit.”
I glance sideways at him. “What?”
Knox peeks over his shoulder. I turn, following his gaze—and my breath catches when I spot the figure sitting on the rickety bridge that stretches across the center of the playground.
Logan.
“What’s he doing here?” I ask, my chest clenching.
“He’s, uh... he’s with me.”
I blink at Knox. “What?”
“Yeah, I brought him.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “He has something he wants to say to you.”
“I don’t care,” I say, my panic flaring. “I don’t want to talk to him, Knox.”
“I think you should.”
“What?” I stare at him, stunned.
“Look, Kat,” he says. “It’s not his fault. Monroe forced him to shake us up.”
“What?”
“It’s a long story. Well... it’s actually pretty short. The gist of it is: Monroe had some dirt on Tesla. He threatened to leak it unless Logan did what he was told. Logan didn’t want to do it. Blah, blah, blah. You should hear him out.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What?”
“Don’t ask me.” He nods toward the bridge. “Ask him. ”
“He’s a liar, Knox,” I say, holding my ground.
“So are you.”
My mouth falls open.
He mirrors me, jaw dropping dramatically. “Just go talk to him. Afterward, if you’re still done with the guy, we’ll leave the show tonight with a bottle of Pam’s finest and a box of Twinkies. We’ll do the broken heart, trash TV, cry-it-out thing all you want. But...” He rests a hand on my shoulder. “Talk to him first.”
“What?”
“Just fucking go, Kat!” He shoves my swing with both hands and it lurches sideways, making the whole structure groan. “I’ll be here. Hopefully,” he says, his eyes climbing up. “Pretty sure this thing is gonna collapse any moment now.”
I glance back at Logan. He’s still watching me from the bridge, unmoving. There’s something in his eyes. Something raw. Something broken.
How do I know it’s real? I can’t trust my own instincts anymore.
But I can trust Knox’s.
“Hear him out?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Knox nods.
I exhale hard, then stand. My fingers grip the rusted swing chain for balance until I feel the ground steady beneath me.
“Good luck, sister,” he says as I walk past.
I cross the patchy grass toward the bridge. Every sound is magnified around me as I climb the faded castle-like structure, mixing with my racing pulse. The tunnel roof is too low, so I duck as I pass through.
Then I step onto the rickety bridge.
Logan stands when I do. The wooden planks creak and shift under our weight as we move toward each other, stopping in the center.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi,” I reply, holding my breath.
He glances at Knox across the park. “Did he tell you about Monroe?”
“He mentioned him. And… something about Tesla?”
“Yeah, she…” Logan hesitates. “Well, you’ll hear all about it soon, I’m sure.” His eyes flick over me—my crossed arms, my tense shoulders. With a quiet sigh, he reaches for his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. “Open your hand.”
I frown.
“Just…” He extends something toward me. “Please. Open your hand.”
I sigh, but do it. He drops something into my palm with a soft slap.
His driver’s license. Face down.
“A minute from now,” he says, “whether you like me or hate me, you can flip that over and read it. All I want is one minute. When it’s over, you can go back to hating me forever if that’s what you want. We’ll go back to being enemies. And that’ll be that.”
The license weighs heavy in my hand; the corners sharp against my skin.
I nod.
Logan pauses, his chest rising and falling once. “I want you to know that... every moment we spent together was genuine. Every word, every touch, every kiss—it was all real. I adore you, Katrina. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you.”
His voice breaks, and it tugs at something buried deep in me.
“It killed me to hurt you,” he says. “Every day, I wanted to tell you the truth, but I was scared of what would happen to Tesla if I did. I hope you can understand that. And maybe, someday... forgive me.”
I wipe my cheek with the back of my hand. “Forgiveness is a big ask, Logan.”
“I know.” He nods. “And if you never forgive me, I’ll get it. But I don’t want you to regret the time we spent together. No matter what happens from here, no matter what you think of me, of all of this… I want you to know you were loved . You wanted to save yourself for a man who loved you, and you did.”
He steps a little closer; the bridge creaking beneath us.
“If you believe anything I’ve said, let it be that. I love you, Katrina,” he whispers. “You’re the most beautiful soul I’ve ever known. The only time the world makes any sense is when I look into your eyes... and I hear our music.”
His words shake something loose in me. An epiphany all my own.
“I’m not gonna beg,” he says softly. “But I will promise you: if you can find it in that perfect heart of yours to let me back in, I’ll spend the rest of my life earning it.”
“Is that what you really want?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says. “Desperately.” He swallows. “What do you want, Katrina?”
I look into his eyes, my heart hammering. Every nerve ending feels lit up, the air between us vibrating with something undeniable. Something true.
I believe him.
I believe Logan Shock loves me.
He loves me... just like I love him.
I glance at the card in my hand, then flip it over.
His ID photo is absolutely tragic—wild-eyed and flat-haired—and it makes me smile.
Then I read his full name.
“Milton?” I say, eyebrows arching.
Logan winces. “Yeah.”
“Logan Milton Finkelstein?!”
“Keep your voice down.” His eyes dart around the playground. “Please.”
“Is that a Roman numeral?” I gasp. “A Third?! You’re a Third?!”
He groans as laughter bursts out of me.
“Logan Milton Finkelstein... the Third! ” I repeat, savoring every syllable.
He yanks the ID from my hand. “All right. That’s enough humiliation for one day.”
“I can’t believe three separate women looked at a baby and said, Yes. That’s a Logan Milton Finkelstein. ”
“It’s merely one of many crosses I bear, kitty,” he says, stopping. “Sorry. Katrina. ”
I reel in my laughter, but my smile lingers. “It’s okay, Logan,” I say. “You can call me kitty.”
His eyes go wide, hopeful. “I can?”
“Just not in front of my brother. At first.”
“Yeah, best not.”
“He’s not used to me dating. Still sees me as his baby sister, but...” I shrug. “He’ll come around. Assuming you two can get along.”
Logan hisses through his teeth, the sound comically doubtful as he grins. “I’ll do my best to be a good boy.”
“Thank you.”
“If he does.”
I arch a brow at him, and he smirks. “Then…”
I step closer. I touch the railing, my fingers grazing his. The warmth of him jolts through me like lightning. Like something…
Electric.
“I think we can work something out,” I say.
Logan closes the short gap between us. One hand finds my cheek, the other anchoring us to the railing, to the moment. “If that’s what you want,” he says.
“I want,” I say.
We kiss—and everything else falls away. It spreads across my skin, our lips parting as the kiss deepens, urgent and tender at once. His arms wrap around me, and I melt into him. Safe. Wanted. Loved.
Then I hear it.
Laughter.
Not just Knox’s. Addison and Jordan’s, too. And… Jonah’s?
I glance toward the swings. They’re empty now, but close by, gathered around a worn-out tetherball pole, are Knox and Jonah. They bat the frayed ball between them while Jordan and Addison shout playful commentary. Bronson stands nearby, arms crossed like a disgruntled gym teacher, his sharp eyes watching for every foul, every step out of line.
Laughter and smiles.
Play.
“I thought they weren’t talking,” Logan says, confused.
“They aren’t,” I say. “Doesn’t mean they can’t hang out.”
He looks at me, baffled. “You really are an unbreakable lot, aren’t you?”
“We’re all we’ve got,” I say, shrugging.
Logan nods, understanding. “The Battle’s back on, then,” he says.
I smile, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Yeah,” I whisper. “It is.”
I kiss him again, the park fading into a blur as my heart expands.