Page 51 of The Breakaway

I gritted my teeth and repeated the second line, then stopped and went over it again, annoyed that the bracelet was slipping down my wrist.

"Everything okay?" he asked when I took a longer pause.

"Fine.” I blew out a breath. "Just need to drill this one part."

"Oh. Okay, cool." Logan pasted on a smile, determined to be supportive. But I could practically hear him screaming internally, desperate to be anywhere else.

I played a few distracted measures, the notes mechanical and soulless to my ears. Logan grinned. "It sounds great."

Frustration rippled through me. He meant well, but Logan didn’t know the first thing about music. In general. That was why the mix tape he gave me was so meaningful. He’d gone way out of his comfort zone to make something that I loved even when it didn’t connect with him the same way.

I glanced at the clock, my stomach sinking when I saw how much time had passed and how little I’d accomplished. I ran the middle section of the song a few more times, then played through the whole thing at half speed so I could nail the sixteenth notes.

Blowing out a harsh breath, I lowered my violin. "I think that's enough for today."

Logan practically leaped out of his chair. "You sure? I don't mind waiting longer if you need to keep going."

"I'm sure." I managed a smile as I packed up.

"Yes!" Logan pumped his fist. "I'm starving. I heard about this new place . . . "

And just like that, he was back to his energetic self. He chattered on as we left the practice room behind. We walked back to the house, I dropped off my stuff and changed my clothes, then got into the passenger seat of his truck.

We ended up at a cozy Italian place just off campus, the kind with fabric tablecloths and garlic-infused wood moulding.

“So. Tell me more about your team.” That was all I had to say to get him talking. He told me about Coop, the guy who biffed it when we were talking on the phone that first time. About a kid who was barely fifteen and so fast, he was giving all of them a run for their money.

By the time I finished my pasta Logan had barely gotten through half of his. I waited and listened, and then we went to the market. We tasted the wine, Logan bought two bottles, and then we hurried home for him to grab his things so he could head to the airport.

The house seemed empty, but Rob’s door was shut. He never closed it unless he was home.

At the door, Logan turned to face me, hands jammed in his pockets. "I don’t want to miss everything. The invitational, the holidays.”

“Yeah. Kind of crappy timing.” I rocked on my heels.

Logan stepped closer, reaching for me. I folded into his arms. “I’ll see you in the new year.”

I pulled back, tilting my head up to look at him. “I can drive you. If?—”

“No, I already called a cab.”

I tried not to look too relieved. I was already planning rehearsal number two the second he left the house.

“Love you, Shar.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“Love you, too.” I meant it. I did love him. But hearing those words come out of my mouth when my insides felt like minced meat left me hollowed out.

And then he was striding down the steps to his truck. I waited until he drove off, blew him a kiss, then closed the door and slumped against it. I hated this. I hated that a couple of weeks ago, I would’ve chewed off my own arm to have Logan next to me, and now? I couldn’t suck it up and be happy for twenty-four hours?

Shaking my head, I pushed off the door and headed for my room. I needed to practice, to lose myself in the music until everything else faded away. So I could pretend my life wasn't quietly unravelling at the seams.

The phone rang just as I reached the hall, and I jumped. I retraced my steps into the kitchen and picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Mom.”

She always announced herself. Did she not trust I could tell who she was by her voice? “Hey, how are you?”

"Oh, you know, a little behind. Baking, cleaning, getting ready for the holidays." She chattered on about her famous gingerbread recipe and the new vacuum she'd purchased from the son of a friend of hers. I made appropriate hums and haws, only half-listening.

---