Chapter 12 #2
"I want you to forget about them and sing like it's just you and me," Abigail says.
"You and me alone," Taylor echoes, voice husky, eyes fixed on her lips.
Abigail realizes what she just said, but she can’t walk it back now.
"Yes. You and me, alone. Can you do that?"
"Yeah. I can," Taylor says, nodding.
Abigail steps back and takes a weighted breath, tipping her head for Taylor to move. Taylor watches her a beat longer before taking the first step, that crooked smile making something flutter in Abigail’s stomach.
When Taylor grabs the mic again, something has shifted inside her.
She closes her eyes and, when she opens her mouth, what comes out is completely different.
Her voice turns rough and raw, loaded with all the passion Abigail saw that first night.
The Andalusian wail appears, natural and devastating, turning the song into something primal that makes David stop playing guitar mid-strum.
"Sorry," he says when they all stop.
Abigail smiles; that’s the effect Taylor’s voice has.
"It’s fine. Let’s start again," she says, returning to her spot.
The song starts again and Abigail gets chills down her back just like that night at the bar, only multiplied by ten. With the professional setup, every shade of Taylor’s voice is amplified and every broken note becomes something she feels slicing through the air.
When Taylor finishes, silence falls and the musicians look at each other, amazed.
"Damn, girl," James says, "they're going to love you."
Taylor blushes and looks for her brother’s gaze, but Ethan is staring at the floor.
"You bet," Lucas adds.
"Come here, let me give you a squeeze," David says suddenly, catching Taylor off guard and lifting her into the air.
She squeals in surprise and bursts into laughter while Abigail watches, catching it herself.
"Okay," Abigail says after a few seconds, though something is still humming inside her. "Now the second song, let's hear how it sounds."
The rest of the rehearsal follows a similar pattern.
Once Taylor stops feeling self-conscious, the intensity with which she sings leaves them all slack-jawed.
The band adapts to her style, enhances it without smothering it, and they make arrangements that spotlight her voice rather than compete with it the way her brother does.
Ethan takes part, but Abigail sees how he keeps trying to shift the focus to himself, suggesting changes that give his guitar more prominence or harmonies that dilute the impact of his sister’s voice. Every time, she’s relentless, shooting down each request to keep the focus where it belongs.
"All right, tomorrow at ten again," Abigail says when they finish four hours later. "We'll work on the arrangements and polish them."
The three musicians leave and Abigail stays with the siblings. Ethan doesn’t take long to pack up his guitar and head for the door.
"You coming?" he asks Taylor, but before she can say anything, he adds, venom lacing his words, "It sounded better when it was just the two of us. More authentic, you know? All this is way over the top."
Abigail feels anger crawl up her neck, but she keeps still and silent, glancing at Taylor to see how she reacts. Taylor looks her brother straight in the eye and then looks at Abigail, as if choosing.
"Go ahead," Taylor says. "I want to talk about the third song with Abigail."
Ethan clenches his jaw and leaves, closing the door harder than necessary.
"He'll get over it," Taylor says, staring at the space he left behind.
"I'm sure he will," Abigail murmurs, trying not to sound sarcastic.
Suddenly, Taylor turns to her with a huge smile and shining eyes.
"That was amazing," she says, her voice still hoarse from singing. "I don’t even know how to explain how it felt singing with them..."
"Just wait until you're doing the same thing in front of thirty thousand people," Abigail replies, as if it's nothing.
Taylor’s smile widens and they stare at each other. Too close again. Taylor’s lips are parted and wet, her eyes shine with that euphoric post-performance high, and her heart is racing.
"Hey..." Taylor whispers, taking another step toward Abigail.
Abigail is motionless, feeling like her legs are set in concrete as she watches Taylor’s pupils dilate.
Her body responds—her mouth parts, her breath stutters—and then her phone rings and Abigail startles.
She turns the screen and frowns at the name that appears and, just like the other day at the diner, she silences the call.
Only this time, Taylor reads the name before she does: Erin.
"What did you want to tell me about the third song?" Abigail asks, taking a step back and folding her arms as she looks at her.
Taylor immediately understands the moment is gone and the coolness is back.
"Nothing. I just have a few verses, but I can’t quite see how to tie them together. It’s fine—I'd rather show you when it's more structured."
"Whatever you want. Do you need anything else?"
Taylor shakes her head.
"Good. Then I'll see you tomorrow," Abigail says, sidestepping her and heading for the door.