Chapter 2
Theo
Bronzeville Academy’s new media lab still smelled like soldered wires and ambition, but Theo Ward could see the promise spilling from each microphone as his friend took him on the tour.
Nate Brooks gestured toward the editing bay with a proud little flourish. “We just got this last semester. Real-time feedback monitors, dual-mic setups, and the software is pro-level. The students were freaking out.”
“I love it,” Theo said, weaving between cubicles, fingertips brushing the back of a chair. “Have they been able to play around with the equipment yet?”
Nate grinned. “It’s hard to get some of them to leave. I got two girls working on a true-crime series that’s getting out of hand. I had to sit them down and talk about ethics.”
Theo chuckled. “Hey, it’s what’s hot right now.” He surveyed the space before letting out a breath. “Man, this is different.”
While this was a great opportunity to get out of his small booth and join a community, the media lab made him nervous. High school students were a tougher crowd to impress than the “Horror Bros” who left annoying comments on his episodes.
Nate turned to him, catching the edge in his voice. “Different in a good way?”
He nodded. “Oh yeah, for sure. It’s just… I don’t want to disappoint the kids.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Nate chuckled. “They’re ready. And the school is excited to use our grant money for something exciting. We got the space and equipment, now we need the guidance.”
“I’m happy to guide, so long as you’re there with me,” Theo said, taking the time to really look at his oldest friend.
Nate looked every inch the thirty-year-old father and History teacher.
He was steady, approachable, and had a touch of fatigue behind the eyes.
His Bronzeville Academy polo was tucked neatly into charcoal slacks, locs pulled back into a low ponytail with a neat line-up.
It wasn’t hard to believe the goofy kid Theo once knew had grown into a mentor for a new generation of goofy kids.
“I’m just pumped you’re back,” he said, giving a playful punch to the arm. “Quenton keeps asking for Uncle Teddy’s ghost stories like mine aren’t scary enough.”
Theo laughed. “That’s because they’re not. Even six-year-olds know better.”
He hadn’t been back in Chicago long. Maybe five months. Just enough time to remember how thick the humidity could get, how loud cicadas were, and how Midwestern small talk came with opinions about baseball and ever-changing weather.
Portland had been quieter. Grayer. His last few years there blurred into cold brew, content deadlines, and disassociation. He hadn’t noticed the burnout until he was standing on his too-modern balcony, watching it rain, wondering why nothing felt real.
Quitting his job at Intel had been the first step in improving his mental health; starting his own passion project had been another. But he needed more.
He needed to be back home.
His parents had mixed reactions. His mom, Beth, cried when she saw him—then immediately started cooking pierogies, claiming his gym-toned body meant he was “wasting away without Polish starches.” She was still working erratic hospital shifts but went right back to feeding him between saving lives.
His dad, Scott, blew in from Florida, unannounced and freshly single, with a six-pack.
“Figured you’d want a cold one while you set up,” he said, cracking open a beer.
His dad put more effort into complaining about the latest ex-Mrs. Ward than unpacking, but Theo was used to it.
He ordered Portillo’s, let him crash on the couch, and by morning, Scott was off to Kansas City for a construction job. Theo hadn’t seen him since.
Now, standing in Nate’s media lab, Theo was surprised by how quickly it felt like home. The space buzzed with the same energy that had first pulled him into audio: curiosity, carefully managed chaos, and the low hum of potential.
The same perfect combination that had saved his life.
When Intel got too hard and the panic attacks came too often, sinking into his own horror podcast, Dead Airwaves, had brought him back from the brink. It steadied his nerves. It gave him control over something, even if it was just a lone voice in the dark.
What started as an escapist hobby quickly became a labor of love. And then a business with ads, Patreon bonuses, merch drops, and an endless war with the algorithm. But it was his. He’d built something real, just like Nate was trying to build here.
This lab didn’t have his podcast’s reach, but it had heart.
“Hold on a second…” Nate said, glancing over his shoulder. “These kids look like they want to cut class.”
Before Theo could speak, Nate was already out of the room and barking at students about a hall pass. While he laughed about what a hardass his friend had become, his phone buzzed in his pocket.
He checked it without thinking.
One new email.
From: Maya Brooks
Subject: Potential Collaboration
Theo froze.
Hi, I’m looking for a male voice actor for a dual POV romance audiobook…
No. Fucking. Way.
Maya Brooks.
He knew that name like it was tattooed on the inside of his skull. Nate’s sister. The older woman he’d crushed on like an idiot back when he was all bones and braces.
I’d love to discuss availability and rates. Your voice was recommended to me.
His blood rushed hot in his ears.
He hadn’t seen her since Nate’s wedding. A few glimpses on social media. A viral tweet here or there…
Memories flooded his mind in an instant.
Freshman year. Move-in day at Illinois State University.
Beth was pulling a double shift at the hospital, and his dad was with ex-Mrs. Ward #2. It was Nate’s parents who helped him lug his busted-up duffel bags into that cramped dorm. They sprang into action without hesitation or pity. Just support.
And then there was Maya.
She showed up like a small hurricane.
Striding in with two storage totes of snacks and bed risers, her hair in a pineapple puff, hoop earrings swinging like weapons.
Angela Davis’s face was emblazoned on her t-shirt, and her denim cutoffs were perfection.
She immediately started reorganizing their dorm setup because “Y’all clearly didn’t plan this out. ”
She bossed them around for an hour, made Theo promise to keep his socks off the floor, then handed him a candy bar and said, “If anyone gives you shit this year, talk to me. I know people in the English grad program.”
She was painfully pretty. The kind of pretty that made his eighteen-year-old brain short-circuit.
And older, already in her thirties.
A full-grown woman, doing full-grown things. She had a real job with real bills… and a real boyfriend who probably had a five-year-plan.
She wasn’t just Nate’s older sister. She was in another league entirely.
And Theo?
He was a nerdy kid with bad skin and a duffel full of tangled cords and hand-me-down hoodies.
So he watched from the sidelines. Listened when she gave him and Nate unsolicited life advice, and stored her voice in the back of his mind like a song he couldn’t stop humming.
When he saw Maya at Nate’s wedding, she was elated for her little brother, beaming in family photos, and laughing loudly during the reception speeches. She floated through the party in a wine-colored dress that clung to every curve like it had been made for her, glass of champagne in hand.
But there was something sad underneath her smile. A hollowness in her eyes when no one was looking. The way her laugh sometimes caught like it had to clear a lump in her throat first.
Theo had noticed.
Probably because he couldn’t take his eyes off her all night.
At one point, he’d been brave enough to ask her for a dance. She looked up at him with those large brown eyes, took in his outstretched hand, and smiled.
“You’re not gonna step on my toes, are you, Teddy?”
“I’ll try not to.”
She slid her hand into his, and that alone nearly wrecked him.
They moved slowly at first, to something mellow on the speakers. He was suddenly aware of how close they were. The press of her palm. The warmth of her perfume.
She swayed naturally, eyes flicking past him for a second before she murmured, “You ever been to a wedding solo?”
Theo shook his head. “This is my first wedding, but I guess it’s okay to be alone if I’m the best man. Your mom is trying to set me up with someone.”
“That sounds like Mom…”
She said it lightly, but something bitter clung to the words.
“Your boyfriend couldn’t make it?” he asked cautiously.
“No, he couldn’t,” she replied. “We broke up this week. I wasn’t going to miss Nate’s wedding, but God, I hate showing up to a wedding single.”
Theo had nodded sympathetically before switching gears. “You still writing?”
That made her smile, faint but real. “Always.”
“I’m actually starting something, too,” he offered, surprised by his own vulnerability. “I’m thinking about quitting IT to get into podcasting. Horror stories, mostly. Creepy stuff.”
He didn’t tell her about the panic attacks he’d suffered at work, or the sick leave he’d needed to take just to hide a meltdown. It felt safer to stick to the podcast idea.
Her eyebrows lifted. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“You always were quiet, but I didn’t peg you for spooky.”
“Quiet and spooky might be my thing.”
That made her laugh. She tilted her head, studying him like she was trying to picture it.
“Well,” she said, “take it from someone who quit her PhD program for romance novels: go with your gut. If you’ve got a story to tell, you’ll eventually have an audience, Teddy. People will know your voice soon enough.”
Teddy.
She'd called him that all the time, but that night—it sounded different. Soft and certain. Like she already believed something he hadn’t even proven to himself yet.
And just like that, the dance ended. Someone tapped her shoulder, and she drifted away with a quick squeeze of his hand and a smile that hadn’t quite reached her eyes.
But her prophetic words stayed.
They stayed when he launched Dead Airwaves with nothing but a pilot episode and a Reddit thread.
They stayed through the first sponsor, the first viral bump, the first horror convention.
People did know his voice now.
But Maya Brooks had been the first person to tell him it was possible.
“All right, man,” Nate said, returning to the room. “I gotta lock up and get to sixth-period study hall. You know how to find your way back to the front?”
Theo nodded. “Yep. I can’t wait to see what we put together in the fall,” he said, clapping his friend on the shoulder.
“The kids are gonna love you. If I can get the boys off that manosphere shit and into some actual storytelling, you’ll be saving my ass,” Nate muttered, lowering his voice as they headed into the hall.
Theo chuckled. “I’ll do my best, but I’m not a miracle worker.”
When he got back to his car, Theo opened the email again and tapped out a message before he could chicken out.
Subject: Re: Narration Inquiry
Maya,
Got your message.
If you’re still looking for someone, I’m available. Feel free to send over a chapter or two if you want a sample. No pressure if you’ve found someone else.
That said…
I’m excited to read your words.
Let me know.
—Theo
As soon as he emailed her, he immediately Googled her for a recent photo. In the five months he’d been back, he’d seen everyone but Maya. Her mother, Nadine, said that she was busy finishing her latest book.
The first photo he landed on was from a book event in Madison, Wisconsin, sometime last summer…
Jesus, she was stunning.
Not in the polished, surface-level way people usually meant it. This wasn’t ring-light-and-contour stunning. This was the gravity he remembered. Like she took up space on purpose, and you were lucky to be caught in her orbit.
Her brown skin had the same deep, golden warmth he remembered, rich like molasses and sun.
She’d gained weight since Nate’s wedding, and it suited her just fine.
Her figure was all soft curves and quiet power, wrapped in a green dress that made him forget what he’d been trying to look up in the first place.
Her hair was huge. Beautiful. A halo of curls that had a personality all their own.
And her smile? God. That smile could level a man. Wide, dimpled, and just secretive enough to make you wonder what she wasn’t saying.
She looked like she knew exactly what she was doing. Like she wrote about sex for a living and didn’t blush easy. Like she’d ask him to read her words into a mic and not worry about the fallout.
Theo exhaled and locked his phone.
Oh, God. There would be fallout.