Chapter 16
The small timer goes off where I’ve set it on the side table near me. I finish playing through the piece, and then set my cello in its case, grabbing the rosin from the small storage bag. Not even the monotony of tending to my bow is enough to drown out the thoughts entirely.
Thoughts that have been nothing but obnoxious since Monday. I’m about ready to throw everything out and start over.
It worked after Violet.
My phone ringing cuts the idea short. It’s not quite as easy to drop everything when you’re already part of one of the top philharmonics.
“Mr. Miller? This is Candice with Soltaire Apartments.”
The bright voice is in direct odds with my mood, but I force a deep breath. Hopefully she has good news for me.
“How can I help you?” I ask, tucking my phone between my ear and shoulder. I put away my bow and rosin and stash it behind the door of my borrowed bedroom.
“We’ve just gotten final word from the contractor,” the woman says. “The apartment is cleared for move-in starting Tuesday.”
I ignore the sinking of my stomach and grab my cello. This is what needs to happen. I go back to my place and my own life. See what this thing with Dominic might turn into. Hang out with my friends. Work my ass off to get principal when Liz’s swan song is finished. I knew three years ago when I saw Rylan the first time that there would be nothing but heartache between us.
Realizing I was right doesn’t help soothe me, though. I clear my throat.
“Great. Thank you.”
She hangs up only a few moments later, the deep rumble of someone talking nearby telling me someone else needs her help. I tuck my phone into my back pocket with a sigh.
I set my cello case next to the one holding my bow and run my hands through my hair. An itchy, antsy wave of nerves settles just under my skin. Grabbing my hoodie, I stride across the apartment and grab my water bottle, taking a long drink before my brain can fully set in with the haphazard, angry thoughts the music had at least dulled. I glance at the clock above the stove and curse. No time to take a run if I’m going to be on time meeting Huntley tonight.
The front door closes with a heavy slam. My phone rings again.
“You hear anything yet?” Huntley asks the question before I’ve even gotten the phone to my ear.
I watch Rylan unload his things out of the corner of my eye.
“Hi, Huntley, it’s nice to hear from you,” I say with overdone sweetness.
There’s a long pause. Rylan picks up one of the guitars he keeps on stands around the perimeter of the living room. “Did I interrupt something interesting? Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know if you’re one of those assholes that answers your phone in the middle of everything.”
“Huntley,” I mutter. “What do you need?”
“You still good for tonight?”
Of course I am. If she’s double checking with me, something’s happened to make her nervous.
“What happened?”
She blows out a breath that I can hear through the phone. Something clinks in the background, like she dropped her keys.
“Jonas asked if he could join.”
I raise an eyebrow. “He’s come before.” Rylan tenses, so I continue. “Why is tonight any different for you?”
“Because Mel doesn’t want to go exclusive,” Huntley mutters.
“You need me to play buffer? Or wingman?” I lean against the counter of the island, resting my head in my palm.
Huntley hums. “I… don’t know. Maybe both?”
“Whatever you need.”
“All right. See you soon.”
The line clicks dead before I can say anything in return, but that’s Huntley when she’s stressed out. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, counting to ten. The soft sounds of Rylan finger picking the melody to an old Paramore song surrounds me. I can’t help but sink into it, into the feeling that this could be something more than just a temporary experience.
I clear my throat before the enjoyment can morph into longing.
“I got a call about the apartment,” I say into the sudden silence his stopping brings the apartment. I turn enough so I can see him.
He frowns and runs his hand along the side of the guitar, messing with the bridge pins.
“It’s clear to move back on Tuesday.”
I’m not entirely sure what I’m expecting—and in complete denial over what I’m hoping he’ll do. His face clears, any emotion gone from his gaze as he looks up from the guitar. His look hits me like a punch to the chest anyway, though, and I have to force myself to breathe through the impact. Shit, if this is how I respond, how many Omegas has he brought to their knees?
“All right,” he says, his voice as unaffected as his gaze. “I have my own lesson that morning. Do you need me to find someone to help?”
Why am I disappointed?
In answer, my mind offers the memory of his lips on mine, his hand on my throat. I shake my head, trying to clear the thoughts. I’ve had one night stands before, lighthearted hook-ups that meant even less for me than they did for my partner. So why can I not shake this one?
You know why, dumbass.
I ignore the voice nagging at me.
Rylan nods. “Sounds good, then.”
He stands in one fluid motion. My stomach clenches and my dick hardens, ignoring my urging.
“About Monday,” I start, hesitant.
He freezes, his body turned toward his bedroom. He clenches his hands and takes a deep breath. “What about it?” Even his voice is blank, flat.
Silence stretches between us. Can I really handle him rejecting me? This silence is awful, but it can’t be worse than hearing he doesn’t really want me, that Monday was just a mess created by him being newly off shift from the Haven. I close my eyes and force myself to find that inner part of me that’s faced down conductors with poise and Violet’s mother with a saccharine smile.
“Is it something?—”
The click of a door cuts me off. My eyes snap open. I drop my head into my hands and ignore the empty room around me.