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Someone shouts from the crowd, “Why not?”
I twist my head ready to give up the information about my own life to protect her, but Austyn replies, “At that time in my life, I wanted to make music more than I wanted to dance to it.”
Good one, I think. Knowing everything about her life is subject to media exploitation, and who her father is, I think her answer is the truth but won’t hurt the people who love her. I, however, give a straight up answer. I have no one to hurt. “My father died when I was very young. Events like that weren’t easy for me. Austyn—her family—made them easier.”
With that, I strum the opening notes of “Fugitive” and my thoughts turn to Ethan and the message I received from him before we climbed down the stairs.
Ethan:
I wish I was there with you both, witch.
Ethan:
You’re going to knock ‘em dead.
Since I broke my silence with him weeks ago when I texted him on Austyn’s behalf due to an issue her parents were having, I’ve been keeping it light.
Fallon:
Thanks.
Fallon:
Austyn mentioned it’s been a while since she’s seen you. I know she misses her Uncle E.
Ethan:
And you? Do you miss seeing me?
Fallon:
It’s always great to see friends.
Ethan:
Right. Friends.
The crowd who has made it behind the medieval-type doors painted with Galileo Galilei’s crest are rightfully going insane between getting an inside scoop on the music world’s newest wunderkind and an unprecedented live performance.
I step up to the microphone and harmonize to her melody, my fingers strumming over the guitar as fast as hers are. Unlike my best friend, I’m no music prodigy, though I do come by my talent as naturally as she does. My ability to play the guitar is something special—a gift from my deceased father. The one I’m jamming on right now was one of the few my mother kept so I could have something of his yet still have the money to feed his child.
I manage to pick my mother out of the patrons in the crowd and spy the tears in her eyes. It might well have been a night like this when they met. A night when my father was singing on stage and my mother stared up at him with the same awe on her face that is now shining up at his only child who was conceived years later—not in the heat of rock ’n roll passion, but long after my father traded in his music career for that of a trucker. Long before he was involved in a massive pileup on I-95 that ended up destroying my mother’s world and upending her future.
I wink at her and watch her smile—a smile she passed along to me—spread across her face as she watches me and my best friend tear up the stage in a manner that must bring back memories of heartbreak as well as incredible joy.
If only heartbreak decided it had taken enough bites out of us and stayed where it belonged—in the past.
CHAPTER TEN
SEVEN VIRTUES, NORTH CAROLINA
The time to think about how to handle an emergency is not when you’re in the middle of one.
—StellaNova
Time isn’t on your side when death is a very real possibility.
Racing at a breakneck speed toward Seven Virtues Hospital, my brother’s and my feet cross the barrier at the emergency room doors at the same time. My body locks at the scene before me. My niece’s bodyguard steps forward and jerks his head. “Come on. We have a private family room while we wait for the doctors to give us more information about Austyn’s condition.”