Chapter 18
"Forty minutes," Abigail says with a huff after checking her watch again.
"Sorry," Taylor says, leaning beside her on the table in front of the stage where they rehearse.
David, James, and Lucas pay them no mind; they’re sitting in chairs, chatting while they wait for Ethan, who, as always, is running late.
"Why? You’re not responsible for him," Abigail replies, turning to her.
Taylor shrugs, visibly uncomfortable. It’s the last day of rehearsal, and Abigail, twisted up inside, is sure Ethan is doing it on purpose. His last move to undermine his sister’s confidence, to rattle her the day before the concert.
"We’re starting without him," Abigail says loudly.
The musicians stand, and she speaks only to Taylor.
"Don’t stress. You don’t need him. If he shows, great; if he doesn’t, David can cover without a hitch, okay?"
Taylor nods. She knows perfectly well that Abigail has never needed Ethan onstage and that if she puts up with as much as she does, it’s for her. A big, blowout performance, her moment in the spotlight, and her brother is squandering it.
She steps up to the mic and centers herself on the gray-green eyes watching her.
Taylor forgets everything else, and suddenly she feels strangely calm even though there are only twenty-four hours left before she’s in front of thousands of people.
It’s Abigail’s presence—she’s known it since day one—her steadiness and the trust she has in Taylor give her the calm she needs so the nerves don’t devour her. At least, not yet.
"We’ll run the three songs all the way through in the same order as the concert," Abigail says. "No breaks, like it’s the festival. I want to check the transitions and make sure the timing fits what we’ve been allotted."
"Okay," Taylor answers.
David nods and immediately starts the first chords of Wildfire.
Taylor closes her eyes for a second, breathes deep, and when she opens her mouth, her voice comes out with the strength and control of these last few days.
The first note is perfect, clean and powerful, and Abigail feels that familiar shiver she never gets used to race down her spine.
She has a pen in one hand and her planner open in the other, ready to take notes if necessary, though at this point they don’t have much room left for changes, and then the door flies open when they’re halfway through the second song.
Ethan strolls in without a trace of care, fully aware he’s interrupting. Fury knifes through Abigail when her sister stops, startled by the bang of the door as he slams it shut with the same lack of finesse he used coming in.
"Keep going," Abigail growls to Taylor.
The singer nods and picks the song back up where she left off—at least she hasn’t completely lost her place—but her focus isn’t the same.
She sings mechanically, constantly glancing at her brother, who ambles toward the stage, plugs his electric guitar into the amp, and starts playing at a louder level than he should.
David frowns and looks at Abigail, but she gestures for him to continue to the end.
"Is there a reason you’re late and barged in to interrupt rehearsal like that?" Abigail asks when the song ends, her tone so icy it could freeze an entire lake.
"I had things to take care of," Ethan replies, barely looking at her.
Taylor drops her gaze, uncomfortable, and Abigail musters patience she doesn’t have and decides not to step into the fight Ethan clearly expects.
"Let’s keep going," she says, dismissing him. "Let’s move on to Tongue of Fire."
Taylor shivers when she hears her say the title of her song, because that’s how she thinks of it, a song that’s just theirs, even if no one else knows it.
She fixes her eyes on Abigail, searching for the calm she needs, and starts to sing.
Everything is perfect; her voice rises and breaks where it should, the Andalusian wail surfaces, and Abigail shivers, but then Ethan messes up, first once—the key is too low.
Abigail doesn’t make a big deal of it; anyone can make a mistake—until he messes up a second time, and a third, adding high notes that drown out his sister’s voice.
He lifts a shoulder in a half-apology when Abigail looks at him, but she knows he’s doing it on purpose, that he just wants to destabilize her.
David tries to cover his screwups, adjusting his own volume to compensate, but Taylor starts getting more and more nervous, constantly watching her brother, trying to understand what’s happening.
"Ethan," Abigail says when the song ends, "if you’re distracted for some reason, it’s fine—take a break and come back in later."
Her softness is fake and they all know it, but Abigail only intends to be nice once.
"Are you telling me not to rehearse?"
"What I’m actually telling you is that you throw the band off if you decide to change the key whenever you feel like it," Abigail snaps.
Ethan locks eyes with his sister for a second, then looks back at Abigail.
"It sounds better this way. It’s how Taylor and I used to play."
Abigail lifts a brow, incredulous, while she wonders if Ethan had a drink before coming to rehearsal or if he’s really that much of an asshole.
"We’ve been rehearsing for three weeks under certain guidelines, and now, according to you, we have to change them because you think they sound better or because it’s what you used to do?"
Taylor takes off her guitar and sets it aside, so uncomfortable she doesn’t know whether to stay or go.
"I know my sister’s voice. I know how—"
"If you knew your sister’s voice, you’d adapt to it—you wouldn’t try to bury it," Abigail roars, "but regardless, I’m the only one who decides keys, cues, and anything to do with rehearsal here. You can accept it and keep rehearsing, or you can walk out that door."
"Ethan, you just have to stick to how we’d been doing it—we don’t need to change anything," Taylor says, nervous, when she sees her brother take off his guitar.
"You’re letting this woman turn you into something commercial and fake," he spits, "something you’re not. Your voice has always been perfect, Taylor. You don’t need her coming in to tell you how to sing."
"Now you say my voice is perfect when you always said my style was too ethnic and would never work in the American market?" Taylor explodes. "She’s not changing my style. She’s not making me lower the keys so your guitar can take over—"
Ethan goes still; his cheeks go red and his nostrils flare as he watches his sister. Taylor looks like she’s about to faint, but she holds his gaze.
"I don’t recognize you, Taylor," Ethan says, calmer. "You used to value my opinion; now you’ve turned into her puppet."
Abigail folds her arms and tries to breathe slowly to hold back all the words clogging her throat, because if she spits them out and tells Ethan everything she thinks, her sister will probably end up crying.
"I’m nobody’s puppet. Right now is exactly when I feel completely free onstage," Taylor keeps defending herself, needing no one.
"Well, good for you. Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out," Ethan says.
He yanks his guitar cable out, stuffs the guitar into its case without any care, and heads for the door.
"Shit..." Taylor whispers, running a hand through her tousled hair.
Abigail would love nothing more than to lose sight of Ethan once and for all, but she needs Taylor whole, and after this fight with her brother, she isn’t. This isn’t the ending she needs with him; she needs to fly free, but in peace.
"Go after him," Abigail says, stepping in front of Taylor.
She lifts her gaze, somewhere between surprised and disoriented.
"What about rehearsal?"
"You’re not focused right now. We’ll wait here. Go with him and say whatever you need to say—no rush. If he wants to come back, fine; if he doesn’t, also fine. You know we don’t need him."
Taylor nods. She wants to throw her arms around her and squeeze with all her strength, but she turns and runs after her brother, catching up to him just as he’s climbing into his pickup.
"Wait, Ethan," she says, climbing in on the other side.
"What do you want?"
"I want you onstage with me tomorrow," Taylor says.
"What for? So you can run off with her after and leave me stranded?" he shoots back, petulant as a child.
"Come on, Ethan, you know that’s not fair. I can’t let this opportunity pass me by, and I want your support."
He stares straight ahead through the windshield.
He thinks about the festival he’s gone to so many times with his sisters and friends, thinks about what it will feel like to be up there in front of that many people.
He doesn’t think about his sister, or about backing her, because he doesn’t feel ready to do that—not when she’s being handed the chance to have everything he’s dreamed of and he’s left behind, just watching.
But he’s not stupid, and if he has the chance to play in front of 30,000 people once, he’s not going to waste it.
"Fine, I’ll go, but I’m not rehearsing anymore today."
"That’s okay. I’ll tell Abigail," Taylor nods, smiling, even though he doesn’t look at her. "See you tomorrow, or tonight—I might stop by Mom and Dad’s."
"Yeah, fine," Ethan says with a shrug.
Taylor climbs out of the pickup and heads back to the studio. She doesn’t feel completely light; she knows something is broken between Ethan and her, but she doesn’t feel guilty either.
"He’ll come tomorrow," Taylor tells Abigail when she walks in.
"And can I trust he won’t sabotage the concert the way he tried to sabotage rehearsal?" the executive asks, that cool gaze fixed on Taylor, though the singer senses a hint of warmth in it.
"He won’t. It’s his moment of glory. Our family and everyone we know will be there—he’s not stupid," the singer assures her.
Abigail isn’t convinced about the not-stupid part, but she keeps it to herself.
"And you, are you okay?" she asks, dropping her voice a couple of tones until it’s a whisper.
A crooked smile tugs at Taylor without her meaning it to. It comes automatically, and she takes a step toward her until their shoulders touch and she can discreetly brush her fingers against hers as she passes.
"Dying to kiss you," Taylor whispers before stepping up onto the small stage.