Page 109 of Sing Your Secrets

“I talked to my boss, Eli, about transitioning. They are going to let me move to part-time, keep my benefits, and then once there’s some solid revenue from The Garage, they’ll phase me out. They’re being really supportive.”

“If I do go, I’ll make sure Petey signs over The Garage to you first. I’m not going to walk away and have the rug pulled out from under you.”

She nods. “Thank you, but we talked. We’re okay. And he’s sticking around anyway.”

My jaw tenses. I’d go as far as calling Petey a friend, now. But I still don’t trust him around Reese. It’s not his fault, I don’t trust anyone around Reese. If the roles were reversed, I’d call him an idiot for leaving her behind, alone.

“So, what happens next?” she asks in the smallest voice I’ve ever heard come out of her.

“Um, unless I counter with any red lines, they’re coming to the show next week with the final paperwork. They’re sending an agent, so I can sign in person.”

“I’m so happy for you, Miles.”

“Right,” I mutter.

“What?” she asks, noticing my tone. “What’s wrong? I’m trying to be supportive. What do you want me to say?”

“How about ‘stay?’ Or ‘don’t go.’ Hell, I’ll even settle for ‘I’ll miss you.’”

She rips away from my arms and stares at me with daggers. “Does your ego need a quick stroke?” Her tone cools. “Fine—the idea of you leaving fucking kills me. I finally let myself fall for someone, and it’s the same bullshit all over again.” Her eyes start to water, but she doesn’t blink. “But I can’t ask you to stay here for me, because what if you give up everything you’ve ever wanted and realize I wasn’t worth the trade? What if you—”

“Shh.” I place my palm against her chest and feel her rapidly beating heart. “I love you. Come here.” Using her shoulder, I spin her back around. Giving in, she resumes her position, leaning against my chest.

“I know.”

I stroke her thick curly hair, reminding myself how much I’m going to miss how it feels to have my girl laid up against me. This is what I’d be leaving behind. For a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Reaching for her phone, Reese plays a familiar song. Ginuwine’s “Differences” fills the quiet night. “If we really want to recreate our first not a real date.”

I chuckle into her hair. “You sing this time.”

“What?”

“Yeah, come on, everyone tells me what an amazing voice you have. How come you never sing for me?”

“You’ve heard me sing,” she protests as she repositions herself and snuggles deeper against my chest.

“No, I’ve walked in on you in the shower a couple of times while you were humming. I’ve never heard you actually sing.” Reaching over her I grab her phone and restart the song. “Sing for me—for real.”

“This song?”

“It’s our song,” I say.

Spinning in my lap, she rises to her knees on top of the hard concrete. “Every song is our song, Miles. Every time someone sings about love and making love—it’s about us. Or that’s how I feel anyway.” Without further protest, she restarts the song one more time and opens her mouth.

It takes a few lines of her singing before I can’t help but interrupt her.

“Holy shit.”

She scowls at me. “Um, excuse me, sir, you’re interrupting the concert. I may need to ask you to leave.” I pretend to zip my lips and she hits the chorus like a goddamn angel descended from heaven. I need to invent a new word for what Reese is doing. It’s more than singing. Her voice dances across octaves, switching from the cleanest melody to a sultry falsetto, effortlessly. She shows off the rich beauty of her voice and gives new life to this song.

I can’t help thinking our roles should be reversed. Someone should be offering to pay her to chase her dreams.

“Satisfied?”

“You were a little pitchy there,” I tease but can’t keep a straight face.

“Wow. Last time I sing for you, buddy.” She rises to her feet and I’m a half second behind her. I wrap her in my arms as she tries and fails to push me away. “No hugs for haters, thank you.”

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