Page 33 of Cadence
“I…uh…I didn’t realize I was doing anything.”
He studies me for a second before nodding, more to himself than to me. “Sounded better than what I’ve got.”
It’s not quite a compliment, but I’ll take it.
I’m about to ask if he needs any help—because the way he’s sitting makes it obvious he’s stuck—but he beats me to it, snapping his notebook shut with a sigh and digging his fingers into the bridge of his nose.
“I need to check in with Thea,” he mutters, lifting his phone.
I blink. “Oh, okay.”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t look at me, lingering at the table before adding, “I just need to check if everything’s sorted for the show on Friday.”
I nod, smiling awkwardly. I mean,come on,this is the most he’s spoken to me without his tone dripping with derision. “Sure.”
He stands, slowly tucking his chair under the table, his fingers gripping the back of it.
“How…uh…” He clears his throat. “How are you feeling about it?”
“Kind of excited. I mean, we’ve been sounding better together with each practice. The fans will hardly realize you got a new drummer.” I laugh lightly, but the butterflies in my stomach are definitely starting to hatch.
“Yeah, kind of a practice run before the tour,” he says. “Make sure the set’s tight, iron out any kinks…” Rubbing the back of his neck, he chuckles, and the sound short-circuits something in my brain. “Nothing better than testing things out for a crowd of four thousand.”
Four thousand people.For my first everliveperformance.
“Right,” I choke out.
Those butterflies? They’re hornets, buzzing angrily as my imagination starts to take hold.
“Cool, so…” He takes a step toward the door. “I’ll be right back.”
Suddenly alone in the rehearsal space, silence settles again. But it’s heavier now, more charged than before. I stay still, heart tapping out a tempo that doesn’t quite match the stillness around me as I wait for him to come back.
My shoulders sag, my hands clammy from the conversation replaying in my mind. I don’t know what’s more disorienting; the fact that Maddox actuallytalkedto me or that he sounded almost…human.
I let out a slow breath. Four thousand fans. That’s what’s waiting for me on Friday, then a hell of a lot more when we go on tour with Reign. My fingers slide over my pendant again, nerves prickling under my skin like a thousand small stings.
One second…
Two seconds…
Three…
My gaze drifts toward his notebook, to the edge hanging just off the table, and the laptop still glowing bright beside it.
Don’t.
You’ll regret it.
He didn’t say I couldn’t.
But he didn’t say you could either.
My eyes flick to the door, and I hold my breath. He’s probably just outside in the hallway, or maybe the lobby, and any second, he’ll burst back inside.
I stare at the book again, ignoring the way it calls to me.
His words live in there, his lyrics, his songs. And this is what I do, what I’m good at. I’ve written enough songs to know when someone’s struggling. Whatever’s in that notebook has him in knots, and I shouldn’t want to know why.
