The Last Refrain (Needing Harmony #6)

Chapter One

The movie should have been my focus.

I told myself that when it started. All I needed to do was watch the movie, get lost in its plot, and hold on to that normalness.

Everything was normal, as it should be. Seth was beside me, warm and solid, a comfort I found myself reaching out for all too much lately.

His arm around my shoulders, blanket draped over both of us.

Two minutes into the movie and nothing about what was running through my mind was normal. I got stuck in my head again.

It was too quiet. That was the problem. Not the volume of the movie, but the emotional quiet. Too much space between explosions and jokes. Too much time for my thoughts to creep in. I tried to fight them off, but thinking has been dangerous for me lately. Thinking led me back to him.

Paxon.

My boyfriend who may be my ex-boyfriend.

His half-existence in my life after he had given me his full existence.

The boy who asked for ‘space’ without the courage to name it for what it really was.

A breakup.

Now I was in this weird, indefinite space where I didn’t know what we were anymore. Friends? Exes? Some murky in between? I thought we’d been solid. I thought we were good. And apparently, I’d been a delusional fool for allowing myself to believe that.

What made it worse was that the uncertainty from us was rippling out. The guys were all close. Lifelong friends, practically brothers. If things with Paxon cracked, where did that leave me? Did I just...fall out of the circle?

I glanced sideways at Seth.

He was watching the screen, one arm lazily looped around me, mouth tilted in that soft, crooked smirk he wore when something amused him.

His honey-brown eyes caught the flicker of the screen, golden flecks glowing faintly every time the light hit just right.

His skin was a rich, deep brown—warm and smooth.

The line of his jaw coated in the kind of stubble that made me want to trace it.

He was broad-shouldered, tall enough that I had to tilt my chin to meet his gaze fully, and he carried himself with this easy, quiet strength. Seth didn’t try to take up space, he just did. In a way that was not suffocating, feeling safe instead.

As if sensing my attention, Seth leaned a little, brushing a stray lock of my brown hair off my face. “You okay?” he asked, voice low, scratchy in a comforting way.

I forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t push, but doubt filled his eyes. He shifted slightly, pulling me in closer, and I let him. I let myself press into the side of him, bury my face against his shoulder, feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deep.

He smelled like grilled spices from the dinner he’d made earlier.

There was also a hint of cedarwood lingering from the aftershave he always used.

This was the scent of him. The house was always full of it, especially down here in the living room.

This place had become more than just a house, it became my safe place.

A second home for not just me, but the others too.

It was the only place I didn’t feel like I was about to fall apart.

Life was here. I lived one house down, across the street, and even though I’d been there for over half a year at this point, it still felt too empty. I tried to add life to it, but it didn’t compare to Seth’s home.

He had photos lining the hallway walls, from baby pictures to high school football games, to random snapshots of the boys messing around in the backyard.

The kitchen was warm and open, the island counter acting as a central hub where most of our real conversations happened.

The second floor held his bedroom and a couple of other rooms, including mine.

It was all right here under my fingertips. I was in it. And yet, it felt like soon, I was going to find myself locked on the other side of the front door.

“You sure you’re okay?” Seth asked again, gently.

I swallowed hard and nodded.

He didn’t believe me. I could tell. But he let it go.

The movie continued, but at this point, I had no idea what was going on. Something action packed, maybe a little funny. But my head was too loud and my chest too tight.

It had been like this ever since Janice went home.

Her presence used to fill the silence, giving me something to focus on. Now that she was gone, along with her fiancé and son, the house was quiet again. I hadn’t had the courage to stay there by myself for very long, not when the quiet felt so crushing. So I’d been staying here.

Seth hadn’t said a word about it, and he never made me feel like a burden. He just showed he cared by buying extra groceries, making sure the bathroom was stocked with tampons, and he even snuck in a couple of times and did my laundry for me.

I still had no idea when he even found time to do that without my knowledge.

Seth shifted closer to me on the couch, this time brushing a soft kiss against the crook of my neck.

I leaned into it. The warmth of his lips, the way his breath hit my skin, the way his hand slid gently across my thigh. Everything about it was sweet and nice. Calming. I closed my eyes, sinking into the feeling, letting it wrap around me like the blanket we shared.

It felt good.

Safe.

Wanted.

But then the quiet crept in again, louder than before.

The movie’s noise faded behind the buzz in my head.

Guilt twisted in my stomach. About Paxon.

About the rift I could feel forming in the group.

About the fact that I didn’t know what the hell I was doing anymore.

Though, I was pretty sure I never knew what I was doing in the first place.

All those thoughts hit me hard enough that the part of me that had been enjoying the kissing and the warm, easy snuggling instantly went cold.

The intimacy became too much. Not because of him, but because of me.

Because my head was still a tangled mess of old fears coming back and haunting me with bad memories.

I tensed, just slightly, but it was enough.

Seth froze. I felt his breath catch against my cheek before he slowly eased back, putting too much distance between us, and yet not enough either.

His voice was barely above a whisper. “Too fast?”

I hesitated, my throat tightening. What I wanted to say was no. That it wasn’t fast enough. That I wanted him pressed against me, wanted his weight, his warmth, his certainty grounding me. I wanted to pretend I wasn’t broken.

But Seth knew me better than I currently did. He watched me carefully, concern and regret lining his face. He pulled a little farther away, giving me space and taking that temptation away with him. The space between us suddenly felt cooler, quieter, an ending that I didn’t want.

Slowly, I pulled back too, curling in on myself like my body could make me disappear.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, eyes on the floor. My face felt hot, and it was impossible to look at Seth.

“Don’t be.” There was no judgment in Seth’s voice, just a quiet understanding. It was enough to help me look back at him. “I just thought...” He ran a hand over his head and glanced away briefly. “I don’t know, that maybe it’d help.”

“It’s not you,” I said quickly, firmly, needing him to believe me. “I swear it’s not you.”

“Then what is it?”

I shook my head. “I can’t...I just don’t know if I can do that right now.” My voice dropped down. “All things considered.”

The silence stretched between us. Seth was aware of what Paxon had done.

He was there when Paxon left me a broken mess and helped me through it.

He was never not there and that meant everything to me.

Seth exhaled through his nose and gave the smallest nod.

No pressure. No guilt. Just him being here, like he has been for the last three months.

“I get it,” he finally said. “You don’t need to say anything. But you can if you ever want to talk.”

I gave him a tight smile. “I know how good of a listener you are.”

I knew he wanted me to talk to him more about what had been going on, but it was so hard for me to do it. So instead of talking like I should, I reached for the blanket, tugging it off my lap as I stood. “I think I’m just going to head upstairs. Try to sleep.”

Seth didn’t stop me. He just gave me that small, soft smile that never judged, the one that hurt to look at. He was too good for me, and it made me hate myself all the more.

“Sleep well.”

My chest tightened. “Thanks for...being here.”

“Always.”

I padded up the stairs, past all the smiling faces and family photos. All of them were a dark reminder of how close everyone was together and how I wasn’t a part of that.

The second floor was quiet, my footsteps echoing softly as I slipped into my room. The room was more put together than my own bedroom at my house. Seth made it a point to always add something else to the room to make it more mine.

I closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. My chest felt hollow. Once I felt like I was breathing again, I slipped beneath the covers, pulling them tight around me. The hum of the house filled the silence. Bebe softly barked somewhere downstairs.

But none of it was enough to drown out the ache.