Page 46 of Safety Net (Mendell Hawks #3)

CELESTE

There'd been nothing I could do to fix what happened, so I'd gone to bed as soon as I got home from the party.

I spent most of my time lying awake, replaying the whole night from beginning to end.

Once my brain grew tired of that, I replayed the small moments, every tiny detail, until my stomach churned.

I couldn't change anything, but that never stopped me from wondering if I could think my way into a better outcome.

Force the past to rewrite itself, so I didn't walk away from Lincoln.

So we didn't leave all these dangling threads between us that felt far more painful than him forgetting to do what he said he would.

In the morning, I avoided my phone, embarrassed at how I reacted.

During the little sleep I did manage to get, I dreamt of a far kinder way to have responded.

Even though I had every right to feel emotional and frustrated, I jumped from point A to Z.

A jump from disappointment to break-up consideration wasn't fair.

Lincoln had made a mistake. That wasn't unforgivable.

I didn't want him to feel like he had to reach perfection or risk our relationship ending.

When I finally checked my phone in the afternoon, my heart sank straight into my stomach. No messages from him. No messages from anyone.

It could mean nothing. A coincidence. And yet, I wondered if he was angry with me. Maybe everyone was furious with me because maybe Lincoln had told them about how I walked away, how I didn't let him defend himself. And perhaps they thought I was horrible for it. Maybe I was horrible.

No.

Breathe. You're safe. You haven't done a thing to warrant such a reaction.

I repeated the mantra until the weight on my chest began to loosen.

There was nothing from last night that would make my friends (and yes, I could claim them all as my friends) think I was horrible.

They wouldn't write me off. And even if Lincoln was upset with me, he didn't hate me.

I hadn't earned something as strong and cold as hate.

I got ready for the playhouse, self-soothing with constant repeating of my mantra and my makeup routine. My theme was pink, the soft color that brought me comfort. The pink silk dress I wore clung to my skin and paired well with an oversized white cardigan.

On the car ride over, I stopped wondering why no one had contacted me and decided to make the first move. Naomi answered on the first ring.

"I was just about to call you." She was out of breath. A door creaking open and closing blocked out what she said next.

Despite my success in calming myself down, I found my lingering bits of anxiety melt out of me when she spoke.

"Are you on your way?" I asked, unable to mask the hope in my voice.

"I am," she said. "Just about to hop into the car. Is Lincoln with you?"

I frowned. "No. Why? Is he not at the house?"

"No one heard him come home last night."

I forgot the nerves and embarrassment, exchanging them for worry. "Has anyone heard from him at all?"

"Yeah, he talked to Finn," she quickly assured. "And Finn told us not to worry."

My shoulders sagged as I drove into the playhouse parking lot. "Good. I…I left him at the party last night, and he was pretty drunk. I was upset. It was a whole thing."

"I know," she said. "Finn told us that too…. I think Lincoln spent the night at the playhouse."

"What?" I got out of the car, looking up at the marquee. An Original by Celeste Able had been put up. I smiled up at it. This was happening.

"He told us he wanted to get all the set pieces last night," Naomi explained. "He wouldn't accept anyone's help. If he managed to get inside the playhouse, he's probably still there."

The comment made me walk faster. My aunt was already at the front desk, settled into her seat, and sorting through printouts for this month's events.

As soon as she saw me, she waved me over with a look of concern darkening her eyes.

"I have to go," I told Naomi.

"Let me know if you find him," she said quickly. "And good luck! It's going to be amazing. I love you!"

"Thank you," I said. "Love you too."

"We're all ready.” My aunt shoved a stack of flyers into my hands.

"What?" I frowned, looking down at the print colors I'd okayed at the beginning of summer. That felt like eons ago, back when this whole musical thing was something I thought would die before it got started.

"Put those at the table by the front door," she instructed. "That's the last thing on my list. We're all set for tonight and even sold a few tickets online. Ellis set it up for me. He was right, I need to get online more for marketing."

"Everything's ready?" I was scared to ask, but needed to know. "Even the sets?"

"Yeah, they got dropped off and assembled last night." My aunt frowned. "Lincoln didn't tell you?"

I shook my head.

"He came by last night," she said. "He picked up Ellis, and they finished everything together."

"Lincoln was really here last night?" I asked.

"More like this morning," she said. "It must have been 3AM when Ellis and him headed out."

"Is he here now?" I asked, looking around the lobby as if I had missed the one person I wanted so desperately to see, to be held by, to be on the same page with once again.

My aunt nodded. "Found him sleeping backstage."

I started to go to the theatre, but she stopped me, saying, "But he's not there anymore."

My hand froze on the door handle. "Do you know where he is?"

"Left about ten minutes before you got here," she said.

I sighed. "Did he say where he was going?"

"Said something about flowers."

He'd spent all night driving around Tinsel for the sets. All morning putting everything together. And now, his afternoon consisted of flower shopping for me? It was utterly ridiculous. His priorities were once more out of order.

I pulled out my phone, ignoring the anxiety that would come with talking to him. The call went straight to voicemail. When I tried again and got the same result, my aunt reminded me, "You'll see him in a couple of hours. The curtain opens at three. He promised he'd be here. And guess what?"

"What?" My stomach dipped, expecting a last-minute crisis.

"Ophelia confirmed." Aunt Robyn squealed along with me. "I got her a seat right up front. Very VIP."

"Thank you." I burned with hope Ophelia will see even the smallest amount of potential in my work.

"I'm so proud of you, sweet girl." Aunt Robyn came closer for a second to hug me. "You've done so well, I hope you know that."

I nodded, my stomach all mixed up with butterflies that sourced their flutters from excitement rather than dread, a feeling that had been absent this morning.

People were actually coming to see my work. After everything my mentor said, I was still going to share my work with my hero… And Lincoln Hill was somewhere, severely sleep-deprived, looking for flowers.

"He didn't say what store he was going to?" I tried to put a little pressure on my aunt. The sooner I saw Lincoln, the better. I needed him to know I was okay. That we were okay.

"Girl, why would I ask that?" My aunt pinched my cheek before going back to the front desk to answer the ringing phone.

My cheeks burned, but I smiled anyway because maybe this would all work out. Maybe I hadn't ruined what Lincoln and I had.

I got busy helping my aunt with any last-minute things she had to do to prepare for the matinee. Once cars started filling the parking lot and my performers came through the door, my attention swung backstage.

"Hey," I greeted Halle, who sat in the dressing room, working on her makeup. "How are you?"

She smiled at me while keeping her hand steady to create a perfect black line across her eyelid. Halle made the other one match with little to no effort. "I'm perfect. Ready."

"Do you need anything?" I asked. "Water? A warm towel? Something to eat?"

She shook her head and exchanged eyeliner for blush. "I'm all set. Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm good."

She gave me a sympathetic smile. "Your hands are shaking."

I tucked my hands behind my back and moved close enough so I could lean against the wall behind her mirror. “They tend to do that.”

"Big night for you," she said, understanding.

"For you, too."

"Yeah, but I'm used to performing."

"You don't get nervous anymore?"

She laughed. "Oh, I feel like I'm going to faint. I always feel like I'm going to faint."

My eyes widened. "You don't look it."

She didn’t have a hair out of place or a wrinkle in her outfit. Her voice was as steady and soothing as ever. "It's because my belief that I'm going to crush it is stronger than the need to rid my stomach of breakfast."

"Wow, any tips?" I asked.

"She'll keep the best ones to herself," Jack warned from where he stood in the doorway with his gym bag slung over his shoulder.

"You're late," Halle noted, losing her smile.

"And whose fault is that?" he asked.

She bit the inside of her cheek, something unspoken settled between them. I knew in an instant I was intruding, so I pushed off the wall to make my exit.

"Lincoln said he'll be a little late," Jack told me. We switched places. I lingered in the doorway while he went next to Halle.

"You saw him today?" I asked, my heart jumped in my chest.

"Yeah, I came in early this morning," Jack said. "He'd forgotten to seal his paint job, so he called me to finish it. "

Halle and I exchanged looks of surprise.

"What?" he asked.

"You two aren't exactly buddy-buddy," Halle said. "I'm not sure what's more surprising: him calling you or you showing up. "

"You don't know the ins and outs of all my relationships," he countered.

"How was he?" I interrupted before they got too deep into bickering. "How is he?"

"Running on fumes. And guilt." It looked like hard work for Jack to pull his gaze away from Halle, but he eventually managed.

"Don't worry about him, though," he said. "He's fine. And he really wants to see you."

I nodded numbly. Grateful for the assurance.