Page 21 of Safety Net (Mendell Hawks #3)

CELESTE

Their overlapping voices form a symphony of opinions that didn't intend to cause harm but still pierced me.

Halle was right; the music felt short and the lines were too hollow.

Ellis' point stood: live music would leave a more lasting impact, so I need confirmation on whether we'll get an orchestra. Jack was worried about the sets and how long it’d take to assemble them now we had so many pieces.

Even Finn offered input, noting various backstage hazards.

I tried to keep up, reaching for my notebook only to remember I didn't bring my bag on stage. I hadn't thought I'd be up here this long under the burning lights. But our fifteen-minute pre-rehearsal meeting had turned into forty-five minutes.

"Alright, everyone!" Lincoln's voice possessed a sense of authority that called for more than attention, but silence. They stared at him, expecting him to chide them. And I expected as much, too, even though I wasn't the recipient of his scolding stare.

"Let's stop talking for a second and listen to our director," he said. "All your questions and thoughts can wait until you actually learn what it is she needs from you."

Lincoln's gaze found mine then, expression softening. I want to lean into him. He was a rock outside of the shoreline. I wasn't quite out of the high tide yet, but safe enough for the moment.

All eyes were on me. My fingertips tingled, and my mouth went hot with the familiar preparation of throwing up. Ellis gave me a subtle thumbs up, but paired it with his "this isn't going well" face. Not on purpose…I think. Regardless, it made my breathing shallow because my panic was now apparent.

"I…" All I had to do was debrief them. Explain to them what decision I'd made. And as easy as that sounded, it'd become a mountain. Every idea I'd had sounded useless.

We all stood in silence for what felt like a millennium. Lincoln, still next to me, turned so his back was toward them and his face was toward me. He leaned down slightly and whispered,

"Do we need a break?" His smile was small, unjudging, as if he did this all the time. As if he micromanaged panicked twenty-somethings regularly.

"Just a minute," I barely got out.

He nodded and ordered everyone, "Take five! Don't go far."

In a low voice, he asked me, "Do you know a private spot where we can talk?"

I nodded, numb as I turned to the curtain.

"I still think this part is a little out of your range, El," Halle said.

"You know a lot of range all of a sudden," Jack chimed in.

"She's not wrong," Ellis agreed. "How about you give it a try?"

"Funny," Jack said.

"Yeah, give it a try," Halle agreed, mocking.

"Finn, grab my phone real quick," Kaya said. "This is going to be good."

Conversation flowed back into its normal rhythm as if they hadn't been about to make my head explode with their arguing mere seconds ago.

The closer we got to the curtain, the less I could feel my legs.

Lincoln took the lead, trying to open the curtain in one sweeping motion.

He got tangled, and I stood in silence as he went toe to toe with the curtain.

One might think the odds would be in his favor.

I mean, playing hockey had to give one possession of some kind of agility, right?

It was when his legs got caught in the fray I decided it was time to step in.

"I think if you just…" I stepped forward and easily untangled the curtain from his legs, pulling it back. I didn't laugh until we were backstage.

"There she is." Lincoln laughed a bit, too.

"Thank you for that."

"That, unfortunately, wasn't on purpose."

I nodded. "I know. I meant you getting their attention. Trying to help me be a director even when… I'm so clearly not one."

I sobered, picking at a hangnail with nervous aggression. "I'm so sorry. I thought I was ready…I thought I'd be able to at least…say something. Anything."

"Hey, hey. Do not apologize. You've done nothing wrong." Lincoln reached for my hand, covering the irritated skin. "Breathe. Ready?"

I took a deep breath, and he counted for me.

"Again." He instructed, stepping closer so he could place my hand over his chest. I felt him expand and contract with each breath.

We keep going, syncing up after a few breaths.

We held one another's gaze as he brought me back down to earth.

His hand remained gently on top of mine.

I could pull away whenever I wanted…that wouldn't be anytime soon.

Lincoln's thumb massaged circles on the back of my hand. I leaned in closer, pressing my forehead against his chest just to feel more grounded, closer, and his. With my eyes closed, I imagined I was his, and I love the idea. Loved it so much my breathing hitched.

"It's okay," he soothed, not knowing that made things worse. "You're okay."

I didn't know how to do this. What was the next step after wanting someone?

Surely not telling them. No, not immediately…

but what if they'd wanted you first? He had wanted me first, right?

That was some time ago, before this summer, before he got to know me.

And since then, Lincoln hadn't flirted once.

He'd moved on. And who wouldn't if the person you were texting ghosted you for months?

Why had I ghosted him? Why had I taken so long to get to this point? Why was I worried about this now when there were far more pressing issues to figure out?

"I'm…" I tried, pulling my head off his chest. "I'm so frustrated. "

"It's a lot of moving pieces," Lincoln agreed, of course, oblivious to the fact that he was the sole cause of my budding frustration. He continued to trace circles on my skin. My gaze dipped down to my hand underneath his. It was almost completely covered.

"Let's take our time," Lincoln said.

"Okay." I'm too breathy and lightheaded.

Lincoln was consistently here, patient, and interested.

I'd promised him nothing. He didn't expect that to change, and yet, he was still here.

And maybe that was evidence of lingering feelings.

No matter how small, it was worth the risk.

Taking a chance on Lincoln was worth the embarrassment of being wrong.

"What do you want them to do?" he asked. "Think of one thing you want from them. From me."

I shook my head, pushing away my evolving feelings for him in exchange for work. I needed to focus. Questioning the evolution of romantic feelings would be for the sleepless night I undoubtedly had ahead of me.

I tried to recall everything they'd suggested at the beginning of the meeting. "I don't know. I want to keep hearing their thoughts, I think. They had some good ideas for changes. Improvements."

"You want to implement their changes?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I think I should."

Lincoln gave a dismissive wave toward the curtain. "When they have their own musical production, we'll prioritize their changes. But right now, what does Celeste want to see on that stage? Block them out and listen to that voice in your head."

I chewed on my bottom lip as I tried to internalize his advice. My fingers drummed aimlessly on his chest, picking up a beat in my head from one of the songs I wanted to run today. I took a moment to think, shoving the feedback everyone had for me in the far corner of my mind.

"Tell me what to do," he whispered, trying his best not to break my concentration too much.

"Get them to run the final song," I decided.

Lincoln smiled. "Yeah?"

"I need to start at the end," I said. "I always do."

"Alright, perfect. Sounds like we're back in business," he said.

I nodded, matching his smile. Neither of us moved, though.

My gaze slipped from his eyes down to his lips.

I didn't mean for it to, but being this close for this long had made it nearly impossible to avoid.

And Lincoln's lips were beautiful, with the slightest hint of a cupid's bow that curved out into full roundness.

His hand still covered mine. Something had changed, and it took me a second to realize it was his chest. It wasn’t moving as much as it used to. While I still took deep, steady breaths, his had become shallow. His heart pounded.

Is it because of you? It could still be because of you.

"Should I…" he tried, clearing his throat and looking away. He licked his lips, trying to ready himself to finish his sentence. He was nervous. I wanted so much to help. I wanted to know what he was thinking. And I was finally calm and brave enough to ask.

"Is this because of me?" I brushed my thumb across his chest, referencing his racing heart.

"Always." He still looked everywhere but my face.

My stomach was overwhelmed with butterflies. "Still?"

He chuckled, embarrassed. "Yes. It never stopped. Never went away."

"Lincoln," I whispered.

"I didn't do this for that," he promised, matching my lowered volume. "I'm here because I believe in you. Not because I'm holding out for an 'us'. I swear."

"I know."

"Good." He finally met my gaze, and when he saw what was in my eyes, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Right?"

"Right." I nodded and lifted myself on my toes. The movement felt more natural than breathing. Being this close to Lincoln was as relaxing as an exhale.

"This is…" He couldn't finish his sentence. Our noses brushed. I felt his breath mingle with mine. I knew I needed to run the final song. I needed to finish my edits on the opening. I needed to get this mentorship. And I needed to kiss him. I needed it all and preferably not in that order.

"Good?" Lincoln asked a million things with one word.

"Yes," I whispered against his lips.

Lincoln closed the remaining space. His lips were soft and gentle against mine.

I didn't feel any sort of uncertainty. I knew exactly what I wanted and how I wanted it to be. An unknown part of me opened, like unlocking some secret level in a game. I understood heaving breath and swelling breasts. The need to be so close to Lincoln I didn’t know where I began and he ended.

But his energy didn't match mine. Lincoln was timid, holding back in the kiss when I part my lips, offering more. His hand over mine loosened to the point where I could barely feel it. He was the first to pull away.

My forehead wrinkled as I tried to read him. But the guy who had been a constant open book was back on the shelf.

"I…sorry." He tried to laugh, but nothing more than an exhale came out. "That was…sorry."

"No, it's okay." I shook my head, cheeks burning. I'd read that all wrong. He had been over me.

Not because I'm holding out for an 'us'.

His words repeated over and over in my mind, mocking me. I pressed my fingers to my lips, wishing the kiss could be wiped away. Wishing I hadn't stood on my toes and asked him to do it.

"Celeste—"

"Could you get them to run it?" I asked, unable to meet his eyes. "We're behind schedule. Let's just…run it. We've wasted too much time."

"You got it." He nodded. "But we're talking after because I need you to know, I fucking loved every second of that. And I panicked. That's on me, you haven't done anything wrong."

His assurance changed the tide. A part of me didn't believe him, but as soon as I looked in his eyes, I knew it was true. Now, my next question was why? Why had he panicked?

"You and me?" He squeezed my hand. "After?"

"Yeah," I agreed.

Lincoln let me go and went back on stage. I took a moment, still behind the curtain, my fingers on my lips as I tried to fix my face to something normal. Something that wouldn't give away my world had shifted.