Chapter 18
Joel
Tonight feels different.
From the moment I step onto the stage, something in me locks into place. Not all the way—there’s still that hollow space in my ribs, still that restless ache—but it’s quieter. More manageable somehow.
The weight of my guitar is steady in my hands, the hum of anticipation in my veins more fire than nerves. The set already feels stronger than last night.
Because tonight, I have this song.
The one she helped me fix.
The one shaped by her hands—sharpened by her mind.
The one I haven’t let myself fully admit is ours now.
I tighten my grip on the neck of my guitar, strumming the first chord.
It echoes through the room, clear and sure, settling into the pulse of the crowd.
The band holds back, letting me take the lead.
My fingers move like they’ve always known where to go, like this song existed in me long before I found the right shape for it.
Not until today.
Not until her.
She ran the second it was finished—like the fire we struck between us was too much to touch.
Maybe she was overwhelmed.
Or maybe she’s scared of what it means.
The thought digs in deep as I play, because I get it.
I spent years running from things I didn’t want to face, too. But I stopped. I turned around.
And maybe, just maybe, I can get her to stop, too.
The next chord lands cleaner than it ever has. The melody is richer. Fuller. Almost like she’s here, just outside my reach, muttering about my phrasing and adjusting my damn fingering.
The song is alive now.
And the words—they finally come.
I’d been chasing them for days, losing them every time I reached out. But under the stage lights, with her carved into my memory, they spill from my lips effortlessly.
Like they were always meant for her.
The crowd fades. The energy of the room hums at the edges of my awareness, but my focus is locked. The pulse in my ears. The sound in the mic. The words on my tongue.
When the last note rings out, I barely hear the cheers.
Because this—this feels right.
I sling my guitar over my back, still grinning as I make my way toward the bar. People reach out as I pass—clapping me on the back, calling my name and raising their drinks in toast.
It’s electric.
London steps in my path before I make it to the bar. “Good set,” he says, nodding once. “Final shows next weekend should be solid. Gotta say, I’m looking forward to them.”
There’s weight in the words—something that tells me I’ve passed whatever silent judgment he was making.
“Appreciate it, man.”
He claps me on the shoulder once before slipping back into the crowd, disappearing just as Myles catches my attention behind the bar.
She’s already pulling down a glass. “Look who finally decided to show up for his own damn performance,” she drawls.
I smirk, leaning against the counter. “Told you it’d be better tonight.”
She snorts. “And thank fuck for that.”
Setting a whiskey in front of me, she tips her head. “Good job tonight. You really did slay.”
Something about that settles inside me.
I nod, rolling the glass between my fingers. “Yeah. It felt better.”
More than better.
It felt right. At least, the music did. One thing could make it even better.
But for now, the song is almost there.
The lyrics—they finally came to me.
And I know exactly why.
I glance toward the exit, half-expecting to see her standing there, arms crossed, unimpressed, pretending she isn’t completely mesmerized by the way I played our song.
But she’s not here. Of course she’s not.
She’s probably at home, buried in her laptop, convincing herself she doesn’t still love music.
I swallow back the disappointment, pressing the edge of my glass to my lips.
“Joel, you rocked tonight, man.”
I turn to find Ethan and Tessa pushing their way through the post-show crowd.
Looks like they actually made it this time. Something about that makes my chest warm.
I tip my drink toward him. “I know.”
Tessa rolls her eyes. “Jesus, I swear your ego is worse than it was when you were twenty.”
Ethan shakes his head. “Nah, he’s always been like this.”
I let their teasing roll off me, still caught up in the lingering high of the performance.
“Anna would’ve loved it,” Ethan says so flippantly that I’m sure he has no idea how he just slammed be back to reality,
My stomach knots.
The words hit too fast, sharp and unexpected.
I take a slow sip of whiskey, steadying my voice. “Yeah? What makes you think that?”
Ethan nods like it’s obvious. “I mean, I get why she’s being... well, her. But if she actually let herself watch you play, she’d fucking love it the way she used to. Then she’d see what I see.”
The glass in my hand suddenly feels too heavy.
“See what?” I try to come off as nonchalant, but I swear there’s a glint in Tessa’s eyes that tells me I’ve failed. At least to her.
Ethan, thank fuck, is clueless as he shrugs. “That you’re different now. Whatever grudge match she’s got going with you might actually come to an end if she saw it. You know? God, I miss when we all got along. Well, mostly.”
The weight of his words drops in my chest.
Because whatever this is I’ve been tiptoeing around with Anna isn’t just about her—or me.
She’s his sister.
Not just Anna. Not just the girl who has been in my head since the second I got back.
Ethan’s sister.
The realization knocks the breath out of me, slamming me with something I haven’t let myself fully consider.
I mean, I thought about it, but only in terms of Anna being the bigger worry. But is she? What would he think? Would he hate me? Would I I ruin our friendship with all of this? God, if he knew I—
I shake away the thought of Anna catching me after my shower last night.
This isn’t just complicated.
This is Ethan.
The person who has always had my back. My best friend since childhood. The guy who has been more of a brother to me than anyone else in my life.
And I’m standing here, gut-deep in whatever the fuck this is with his little sister.
I see flashes of her as a kid—hovering at the edges of our games, tagging along when she wasn’t supposed to, scowling when we teased her for it.
Shit, maybe he wouldn’t want me anywhere near her. Not in that way.
Hell, if he knew how I’ve been thinking about Anna, the things I’ve done—he’d kill me.
And maybe he should.
Because I already hurt her once. Before this was anything, before I even understood what she meant to me. I screwed it all up.
And now I want more?
Guilt coils tight in my stomach, warring with the part of me that doesn’t care. The part that still wants to run straight to her and make her admit she feels this, too.
“I agree. She’d really love your performance, Joel. There’s so much heart to it.” Tessa nudges Ethan, but locks her bright blue eyes on me. “She still loves music. I know she pretends she doesn’t, but it’s still there.”
My fingers tighten around my glass.
I know. I saw it. I felt it.
“You know, I can’t say Anna’s brain has ever made sense to me, but for what it’s worth, I don’t even think she’s mad at you. She’s just afraid to admit she isn’t,” Ethan says, shaking his head like he didn’t just say something that totally snaps my insides.
I exhale hard, setting my glass down too fast.
He has no idea what I did to her. No idea why she was so pissed.
“I gotta go.”
Ethan looks startled. “What?”
“I just—” I shake my head. “Thanks for coming. I’ll see you guys later.”
I don’t wait for their response. I need air. I need to think.
I need to get to her.
And maybe that should scare me more than it does.
* * *
The ride home is a blur of streetlights and static. The uber took way too long to arrive and I’m fucking spinning out.
Ethan’s words keep looping in my head, burrowing under my skin.
I miss when we all got along.
She’s just afraid to admit she isn’t mad at you.
I tap out the rhythm to our song on my knees, counting down the seconds until we pull into her driveway.
His words shouldn’t mess with me as much as they are. But fuck if they aren’t setting something loose in my chest— something restless, something desperate to get through to her. Even if that means dealing with Ethan in the aftermath. I’ve gotta know—
I need to put this to rest so I can get her out of my head.
Finally, the driver pulls into the driveway. He cuts the engine and turns around. I barely hear him chirp out a price, which I pay on autopilot.
When I get out, I take a deep breath and exhale slowly as I stare at her house. For the most part, it’s dark, but a golden glow from her living room tells me she must still be awake somewhere. No way would she leave a light on for me.
The late September breeze smells like leaves and the whisper of winter wind.
Deep breaths, Price.
She’s probably holed up in her office still pretending to work. Already avoiding me like it’s her full-time job.
But when I step inside… she’s on the couch.
Reading.
My brows furrow as I step further in, toeing out of my boots. She doesn’t acknowledge me, which isn’t surprising, but the fact that she’s out in the open instead of hiding in her office is.
She’s curled into the corner of the couch, legs tucked up beneath her, holding a paperback and looking completely enthralled. Beside her, on the end table, is a glass of wine and a half-empty bottle.
As I move toward her, I stop short, blinking hard.
There is a naked man on the cover of her book.
Well, okay, to be fair, it’s just his chest, but still. Close enough.
“What the hell are you reading?” I blurt out before I can think better of it.
Anna flinches—actually flinches—like she forgot I existed for a second.
Her eyes snap up, dark and defensive, but I don’t miss the way she clutches the book to her chest like I’m about to snatch it out of her hands.
Which, to be fair, I absolutely was.
She glares. “None of your damn business.”
I step closer, peering over the edge of the book before she can react.
Oh.
Oh, this is gold.
I barely suppress a grin as I read the title aloud. “Taken by the Barbarian King?”