Page 121 of Bound By Song

“Evie, it’s fine.”

“It isnotfine, Blaise I-don’t-even-know-your-middle-name Virelli,” I bite, hands on hips, glaring at him.

“We’ve been stuck in a storm. Flooded in and without power. What were you supposed to do?” he challenges right back.

“I don’t know!” I cry. “But I should have done something. If Dane could get all the nest stuff delivered than I should have?—”

“Stop,” Dane says, stepping forward and taking the mug from my hand before it can fall. “We don’t want anything but you. You letting us be here, letting us in and giving us a chance, was more than enough, baby. That’s it.”

My eyes sting, but I nod and mutter something unintelligible.

Then I flee.

Straight down to the studio.

My hands are shaking as I flick on the lights, heart pounding like I’m about to go into battle. But I know what I need to do.

I pull out my sketchbook and flip through the pages until I find them –them.

Xar, mid-thought, head tilted slightly with his eyes shadowed. Dane in profile, broad and quiet and unreadable. Blaise with his tongue between his teeth and a guitar slung across his lap, one foot bouncing as if he’s about to launch into chaos.

Each of them. Every stroke of graphite, a truth I never intended to share.

But today…I will.

I spend hours down there. Trimming pages. Mounting them carefully in frames I sneak from the upstairs closet. I wrap each one in thick, matte brown paper tied with twine, attaching a handwritten note to each.

And just when I think I’m done, the power flickers back on– and inspiration strikes.

I sit at the mic.

My piano and guitar wait like they know something’s coming.

I launch the livestream. It’s a small, quiet thing – barely promoted, just a post that says:one more for the year and then some much-needed rest. For someone special.

The stream lights up. Comments pour in.

But I don’t watch them. I play.

Not for the fans. Not for my career.

Just for them.

“For the ones who found me,” I say, voice low into the mic. “And made me want to be found.”

And then I sing.

Soft. Strong. Free.

BLAISE

I’m elbow-deep in tangled fairy lights when my phone buzzes. Again.

Xar glances over from where he’s wrestling the tree into the corner of the lounge. “You going to get that or are you waiting until it explodes?”

I huff a breath, wiping my hands on my jeans before grabbing the phone off the windowsill. One glance at the screen and my heart skips.

Honey is live.

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