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–Dayshell

Knock, knock, knock. “Stephani!”

Igroan softly.

Thedoor swings open. “Areyou ever gonna wake up?You’vegot work to do.”

Groaningand grunting again,Ipull the sheets up to cover my face. “Gimmea minute.”

“Whattime did you get in last night?Iwas up till eleven and you still weren’t home.”

Myeyes shatter wide open.

Holyfuck.

Iuncover my face enough to look at the bed beside me.

Empty.

“I, uh…”Mycloset is shut tight, soI’mguessingAdrianisn’t hiding in there. “Aftermidnight.”

“Well,Dad’swaitin’ on you.”

ThesecondMomshuts the door,Ifling the covers off my naked body and search high and low.

Adrianisn’t here.

Afterpulling on some jeans and one of theTimelessshirts fromShannon,Ireach for my phone and find a text.

Borrowedyour car to grab some clothes from home.I’llbe back in a little while.

Ibreathe a sigh of relief.Idon’t want to imagine howMomfindingAdriannaked in my bed would turn out.

Grabbinga cup of coffee from the kitchen,Ihead into the office—AKANewYear’sBallHeadquarters—say good morning toDad, and log onto my workstation like it’s any other day.

Itis like any other day,Itell myself asIsip coffee and read emails.

Tendrilsof steam creep up my face; the heady scent of slightly sweetened coffee wakes up my senses.Heavymetal blasts through the speakers featuringBlackSabbath,Pantera, andSlayer—some ofDad’sall-time favorites.

Thisis a normal day like any other, andI’malive for it.

Thesubject line fromMetalMusicNews’sweekend wrap-up newsletter thatImissed yesterday sets me on edge.

MoreDramaon theWayforTimeless?

Checkingout the article, of course it’s speculation about my surprise concert appearance onSaturday—plus a nice refresher on what happened whenIwas last in the band.

Tomy dismay, a crowd point-of-view video of the moment autoplays.

AndIcan’t stop watching.

Ican’t scroll past whenZakdrops to one knee with the brightest beam on his face.Ican’t stop staring as his expression shatters whenIshake my head and tearfully run off stage.

Iremember the loud gasps and booing that came after that.

Clearingmy throat quietly,Ireach for a tissue and quickly dab at the stray tears tumbling down my cheeks.

Dadhumming along to “RainingBlood” takes me out ofNewYear’sBallpast and into the present.