Chapter 7 Zack #2
My fingers lingered over the neck, gripping it a little too tightly. Then I grabbed a cloth from the counter and started polishing it, slow and thorough, like I was correcting some small offense.
I stole a glance at Theo, who was still standing there, smug and too relaxed, and then looked back at the guitar. Just get out, I thought. Please.
“I was thinking of getting the old band back together,” Theo said. “It wouldn’t be the same without you. Remember that? How we almost made it.”
“We were opening for B-rate touring bands,” I said flatly. “That’s not exactly ‘making it.’”
I wasn’t trying to belittle what we’d done. Opening slots were still something. They meant someone believed in you enough to give you a stage.
But Theo had always talked about it like we were on the brink of superstardom.
“Hey, it’s a process,” he shot back. “And we were getting there. Then you quit. And the band fell apart.”
I set the guitar I’d been wiping down back onto its wall hook carefully.
My hands were shaking just enough that I didn’t trust myself not to either snap the neck or swing it over his head.
“Do I need to remind you,” I said slowly, “exactly why I didn’t show up that night?”
Theo paused. Then he smiled. The kind that had always made my skin crawl.
“I’m a changed man,” he said lightly. “I swear. No more groupies. You can ask anyone from the old band. Even my new one.”
I turned back to him and scoffed. Yeah, I thought. Probably because no one’s lining up anymore.
“Think about it,” Theo pressed. “I know you miss it. The good old days. Driving across the country. Us, touring together.”
Before I could step away, his hand slid to the back of my neck, thumb rubbing the side in a slow, familiar motion. My stomach lurched.
I swatted his hand away. “I’m not that person anymore.”
Theo lifted his hands in mock surrender as he backed toward the door. “Think about it, babe. And check your messages, yeah? Don’t go ghosting me like last time.”
The bell chimed as he left.
The moment the door shut, I hurled the rag in my hand onto the floor. I dragged a hand through my hair and stared at nothing.
Theo wasn’t wrong. We had been doing well. The gigs were getting bigger. The drives longer. For the first time, it had felt like the dream was solid enough to grab onto, like I might actually get there.
Like I could invite my dad to see me play on a real stage, under real lights, and finally show him that I’d done it. But bands didn’t break up over one night.
They broke apart slowly. Over egos. Control. Resentment. Over someone deciding their wants mattered more than everyone else’s.
Theo blaming me had always been easier than admitting the truth. And the cheating, constant and careless, pushed everything over the edge.
I was breathing through it when the bell chimed again.
“What do you want now?” I snapped, spinning around.
Mark stood just inside the doorway, a paper bag clutched in one hand, eyes wide.
“Uh,” he said carefully. “Is this a bad time?”
For a split second, I thought it was Theo again.
Then I caught Mark’s scent. The tension I hadn’t even realized I was holding onto eased immediately. My wolf settled, the agitation fading like it had never been there to begin with.
“Sorry,” I said quickly. “I thought you were someone else.”
Mark glanced back over his shoulder, peering through the shop window like he was checking the street. My pulse ticked up.
Please don’t let him still be out there.
“Is that food?” I asked, a little too fast, nodding toward the paper bag in his hand.
Mark turned back to me, attention shifting, and lifted it slightly.
“Yeah. Did you get Cathy’s message?” He smiled. “I figured we should celebrate.”
“I did,” I said. “Still kind of can’t believe we got the New Year’s Eve slot.”
I hesitated, then added, “Though, I mean, it’s not like a ton of people auditioned. Pretty sure everyone who did got in.”
Mark arched a brow. “Still. Only five acts for the main event. And we’re one of them.”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I guess that’s something.”
This time, the smile that spread across my face was real.
I leaned against the counter and watched as he set the bag down, pulling out coffee cups and a small box of pastries.
The shop felt warmer with him in it. Lighter. Like the air had shifted back into place.
“Get ready for some bad news, though,” I said, reaching for a coffee.
Mark paused. “Hmm?”
“You might need to break out that silver suit.”
He blinked. “So we’re really wearing something festive?” A laugh escaped him. “I didn’t think we were actually serious about that.”
“Cathy seemed to think we were.”
Mark hummed, but his gaze drifted back to the window again, just for a second.
I cleared my throat. “Hey—uh. We should grab dinner later.” The words came out faster than I meant them to. “My treat. As a thank-you for teaming up with me for the festival.”
Mark turned fully back to me then. His expression softened, like he’d been caught off guard in a good way.
“You know you’re doing me a favor too, right?” he said. “Getting me back into playing. Letting me be part of all this.”
“Still,” I said quietly. “This mattered to me.”
There was a brief pause. Mark broke it first. “Alright. But seriously though, do I really have to wear the silver suit? I wasn’t joking when I said it had sequins. Big shiny ones.”
“I really hope not,” I said, grimacing at the thought of wearing it myself. Then added, after a beat, “But maybe bring it out. Just to air it.”
He groaned. “Cathy was that serious, huh?”
I nodded, laughing around a mouthful of pastry.
The bell over the door chimed softly as another customer stepped in, and for once, it didn’t feel like an interruption.