Chapter 19 #2
Chase strides in first, bass case in hand, and Brooks follows, twirling drumsticks. Both stop dead in the doorway when their eyes land on us, sitting much too close on the piano bench.
“Well, well.” Chase’s smirk spreads across his face. “Getting cozy, I see.”
My face floods with heat. I try to pull my hand away, but Ryder’s fingers tighten around mine, keeping me there.
Brooks lets out a sharp laugh. “At least she’s keeping her hands on the keyboard this time.” His gaze shifts to the cracked casing. “Instead of breaking it.”
“Brooks,” Ryder’s voice carries a warning edge.
“What?” Brooks moves further into the room, setting his sticks on the drum kit. “I’m just saying, last time she was near equipment, it didn’t end well.”
I tug my hand again. This time Ryder lets go, and I immediately stand from the stool, putting distance between us.
Chase watches the movement with calculating eyes. “Interesting.”
Ryder remains seated with a deliberately casual posture. “What do you want?”
“Practice,” Chase says, setting his bass case down with a thud. “Remember? The thing we’re supposed to do when we ditch school?”
“The showcase is in a week, Hamilton.” Brooks drops onto his drum throne. “One week, and you’ve been MIA all day.”
“I was handling something.”
“Yeah, we can see what you were handling,” Brooks mutters with a nasty grin.
I press myself against the wall, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have stayed here.
Chase pulls his bass from its case. “Look, I don’t care what you two do on your own time, but we need to nail down the setlist. My dad’s bringing executives who can make or break us, and—“
“I know the stakes,” Ryder cuts him off.
“Do you?” Chase’s voice sharpens. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re spending your Friday playing house with your tutor instead of preparing for the most important performance of your life.”
“Our lives,” Brooks adds. “This isn’t just about you, Hamilton.”
Ryder stands abruptly, almost knocking the bench over. “I said I know.”
“Then prove it.” Chase starts tuning his bass, the notes plinking through the tension. “We’re practicing. Now.”
I take a small step toward the door. Maybe I can slip out while they’re focused on each other.
But Ryder’s hand catches my wrist, gentle but firm.
“Don’t,” he says quietly.
Chase and Brooks both turn to look.
“Seriously?” Brooks’s eyebrows shoot up. “You want the walking disaster to stay?”
“Cool it!” Ryder barks. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
Brooks smirks, shrugging with surprise. “Since when?”
“Since now,” Ryder snaps.
“Okay, I get it,” Chase says with a mocking tone. “You both skip school, hang out here alone on a Friday, get real friendly at the piano…”
My face burns hotter. “Ryder, I really need to go.” I tug on his grip. “Please?”
His jaw tightens, looking between me and his bandmates.
“Give me a minute,” he finally says to Chase and Brooks.
“A minute?” Brooks’s grin turns filthy. “That’s all you need, Hamilton?”
“Don’t take too long,” Chase says with a wry smile. “We got actual work to do.”
“Yeah, work,” Brooks echoes. “After you two finish... whatever.”
Their laughter follows as Ryder guides me toward the door. His hand rests on the small of my back, and he positions himself between me and the other boys like a shield.
“Save some energy for practice!” Brooks adds, and their laughter gets cruder.
Ryder ushers me into the hallway, and as soon as he closes the door behind us, some of the horrible tension releases from my shoulders.
Ryder steps in close, and there’s barely a sliver of air between us. His head tilts down as he whispers, “This sucks. I liked when it was just us.”
“Did you know they were coming?”
He shakes his head. “We have open invitation practice sessions. They come over whenever they want. Have you noticed we never lock the front door around here?”
“Yeah, who would want to break into this creepy old house?”
Ryder sighs, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear. “I don’t want you to go.”
My eyes flick back to the closed practice room door. “I don’t want to be around them.”
Ryder smirks. “Neither do I.”
“I can see why you were so angry before I turned up. Those two say some stupid stuff.”
“Exactly why I don’t want to go back in there.” His voice has the same gravelly, raw texture as when he was singing. “If I’m left alone with those two idiots, they’ll get in my head. I’m worried I’ll build a wall between us again.”
“Can’t you tune them out?”
“Our practices get intense,” he admits. “This showcase is all or nothing for us.”
“Exactly why you should get back in there and practice.”
Ryder frowns. “I don’t want to be away from you.” His fingers brush against my wrist. “I don’t want to practice without you around.”
My eyebrow arches. “You can’t expect me to be around them.”
He clasps my hand and tugs me further down the hall. “No, but I can buy some more time with you.”
“Ryder.” A splutter of giggles escapes me. “They’ll be so peeved with you.”
“Let ’em,” he replies. “The band’s not going anywhere without me.”
I tug on his hand, halting his pace as we pass the staircase. “You need to work on your nerves, boy. You deserve better than carrying those two.”
He squeezes my hand. “Maybe after more time with you, I’ll be able to handle it.”
I wince. “Don’t put it all on me. I’m always two-seconds from crumbling.”
Ryder’s arms wrap around me. “You don’t have to worry about holding it together.” He gives my hair a gentle stroke. “I just like your quiet. I’ll protect you from everybody else’s noise.”
“Why would you do that?” My head rests against his chest, and I listen to the rhythmic thumping of his heart. “I’m not worth aligning with. I’ll only ruin the connections you’ve made.”
“You had a bad start here because of me. I’ll rewrite it for you.”
“I don’t want you to defend me. I don’t want people to know why I moved here. People are awful, and I won’t have them make rumors about my parents.”
“I won’t let them, Ally.”
“Once it’s said, you can’t erase it.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“Ugh.” I step back, taking a beat. “It’s not about you.”
“Alice, I’m trying to make this about you.”
I wince and shake my head. “Maybe you should just practice. It’s not worth making them mad.”
“You’re worth spending time with.”
I give him a weak smile. “It’s been a long day. I think I need to lie down.”
He gives me a dubious look. “Are you sure?”
“We’ve spent so much time together. It’s the most social interaction I’ve had in weeks. Believe me, I’m sure.”
Frowning, he nods. “Okay. But can we talk later?”
“Sure, at some point.”
“I’ll knock on your door after practice.”
“Okay.” I turn to leave toward my bedroom. “Break a leg in there.”
Reluctantly, he turns back toward the practice room. “Thanks.”
I move into my bedroom and find my phone on my bed. Getting past the tremor in my hand, I open my message chain with Jill and type a long-awaited reply. “Hi, I’m still alive. Sorry, life is just hard right now.”
After sending the message, I don’t let myself drop the phone. I tap on Mrs. Patel’s contact info and hit call.
“Alice?” Mrs. Patel is quick to answer. “Sweetness, it’s so good to hear from you. You’ve been in my thoughts. How are you?”
“I’m…” I stumble on the word and force myself to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m okay.”
“Are you settling in all right?” Her voice is warm with maternal concern. “It’s so strange not seeing you next door.”
“Has the realtor had many showings at the house?”
“A few. I’m sure it’ll sell soon. It’ll give you closure.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I know it’s hard. You don’t want to lose your home.”
“I’ve already lost it.” I sigh, shivering at the same time. “As soon as they made me come to this place, I lost my home.”
“Do you want me to send your boxes to your new home?”
“No,” I’m quick to respond. “I don’t feel comfortable here yet. Is it okay for you to store them a little longer?”
“Of course, Alice. As long as you need.”
My body relaxes. “Thank you.”
“I hope you’re looking after yourself. Make sure you call any time you need anything.”
“I will,” I lie. “Talk soon.”
“Goodbye, sweetness.”
I end the call and flop backward on the bed.
My phone buzzes in my hand and I lift it to see a message from Jill. “I’ve missed you, but I don’t know how to help you.”
I lower the phone and sigh.
Exactly, Jill.
The low hum of electric guitar followed by the thwack of drums rumbles through the hallways. I stare at the ceiling’s cracked paint, breathing shallowly as I listen for Ryder’s voice to make it into my bedroom.