Page 46 of The Sound Between Us (Vinyl Hearts #1)

Harrison

The bell above Vespa Records’ door chimes. Still the same tinny sound Vinny probably pinched off eBay, but now it feels like home.

“You’re humming again,” Seren says without looking up, catalogue spreadsheet glowing back at her. She’s cross-legged on a barstool behind the counter, glasses slipping down her nose, ink smeared across her wrist.

“Can’t help it. Song won’t fuck off.”

She snorts, distracted. “What’s it this time?”

I lean on the edge of the counter, frustrated. “New one. Started it yesterday. When you were making tea and murdering that Nina Simone record. But I can’t get the bridge right. It’s driving me mental.”

“I was not off-key.”

“You were. Beautifully.” I run my hands through my hair. “The melody’s there, but the words... they’re not coming together.”

She throws a pen at me. It ricochets off my chest. She still blushes, even now.

“Play it,” she says, chin-nod toward the old upright Vinny lugged in last month—“ambience,” he’d claimed, though we all knew it was just a thinly veiled attempt to keep Seren playing while she takes things slow.

I sit at the keys, fingers finding the opening notes. The verse flows easily enough—it’s about belonging somewhere, about finding home in unexpected places. But when I reach the bridge, my hands falter.

“See? It just... stops. Like hitting a wall.”

Seren moves behind me, her hands settling on my shoulders. “Play the verse again.”

I do, and this time she hums along, finding a harmony I hadn’t heard before. Her voice lifts over the melody, weaving something new.

“There,” she says softly. “Try that line, but pull it up a third.”

I adjust the chord progression, and suddenly the bridge opens up. Not complete, but possible.

“How do you do that?”

“Fresh ears. You’ve been too close to it.”

Before I can thank her properly, the door explodes open.

Jamie. Unexpected.

“What the actual fuck?” Seren and I both jump.

Charging in with wild eyes and what’s strapped to his chest is a red-faced baby shrieking. Bella.

“Thank Christ,” he pants. “I was banking on you being here.”

The baby’s losing it. Jamie’s bouncing frantically, panic written across his face. Dark circles under his eyes, stubble that suggests he’s forgotten what a razor looks like.

“You look like shit,” I tell him.

“Feel like it too.” He jiggles Bella harder, but she only screams louder. “This one’s broken.”

“No returns, mate.” I mean I love her and all that, but I can’t hold her making that noise. I glance a side eye at Seren and find her chewing on the side of her mouth .

“Pity.”

Seren steps around the counter, arms crossed, assessing. “She’s overstimulated. Too much stimulation, not enough sleep. How long has she been crying?”

“Three hours. Maybe four. Time’s become irrelevant.” Jamie’s voice cracks slightly. “I’ve tried everything. Feeding, changing, singing, walking, driving around London twice. Nothing works.”

“She’s not broken, Jamie. You’re just learning.”

“I’m failing, more like.” He looks down at Bella, his face a mixture of exhaustion and desperation. “I thought I could handle this. I mean, how hard could it be, right? But this...”

“Is completely different,” Seren finishes gently.

“I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. Everyone else seems to have some manual I never got, but I can’t even get her to stop crying.”

Seren disappears out the front door without warning. “Back in a mo.”

Jamie watches her go, eyebrows practically in his hairline. “How the hell did you land that?”

“Still unclear.”

He shifts Bella to the other arm, but it makes things worse.

She screams louder, her tiny fists batting at the air.

“Honestly,” he says, exhausted and raw, “this whole thing is mental. I thought I knew tired, right? Touring, no sleep, living on adrenaline and terrible catering. But this—this is drowning while someone screams in your face twenty hours a day.”

But even as he says it, I can see the way he looks at her. Despite the frustration and exhaustion, there’s something else there. Wonder. Love so fierce it’s almost frightening.

“You love it though,” I say.

“I love her. I’m just completely winging everything else and hoping I don’t break her.” He pauses, studying my face. “You happy? ”

I nod. For once, I don’t feel the need to lie or deflect. “Yeah. Stupidly.”

“Good.” He claps a hand on my shoulder, manly affection with a side of baby drool. “You look... different. Settled.”

“It’s the regular meals. Seren’s got me eating vegetables.”

“Scandalous. And you’re writing again?”

“Every day. Real stuff. Like that disaster you just heard me struggling with.”

“Not that label-crafted energy drink bullshit?”

I gesture toward the piano. “Mark’s been sending me tracks to work on. Solo artists, mostly. People who want something honest instead of manufactured.”

“Thank fuck. Fancy writing for me?”

Eyebrows up. “New band?”

“Solo.”

It hangs in the air. Jamie’s never talked about going solo before. Elementary was always the three of us, even after everything fell apart.

“Fucking hell. About time. You were never going to give it up, no matter how much a curveball Bella threw at you?”

“You reckon? This...” He looks down at Bella, who’s still crying but with less vigour. “Having her changes everything. I want to make music that means something. Music she can be proud of when she’s older.”

“Precisely.”

“Although, I guess it depends how much baby-screaming is involved in the creative process.”

Before he can answer, the door chimes again.

Seren’s back. And she’s brought Flick.

Flick’s all golden limbs and sunglasses and bright pink hair that’s faded to a softer rose. Jamie visibly short-circuits.

“Meet the baby whisperer,” Seren says with a smirk.

Flick approaches Jamie cautiously. “Can I?”

He nods desperately .

Flick takes Bella, but the screaming continues. She tries a gentle bouncing motion, then shifts to a swaying rhythm. Bella’s cries don’t stop, but they become less frantic.

“She’s knackered,” Flick says, analysing. “But she’s fighting sleep because she’s over-tired. Classic catch-22.”

“How do you know all this?” Jamie asks, hope creeping into his voice.

“Five younger siblings. Mum had us close together, and I basically raised the last three.” Flick continues the swaying motion, humming under her breath. “I spent my teens covered in sick and functioning on three hours sleep.”

I blink at her. I never knew she had siblings, let alone that she’d practically been a surrogate parent.

“The trick isn’t to stop them crying,” Flick continues, “it’s to help them feel safe while they’re upset. Sometimes they just need to get it out.”

“I’m a broken parent.” Jamie aims at a joke, but it’s clear he’s not actually finding anything funny at all.

Bella’s cries are definitely quieter now, though she’s still red-faced and hiccupping.

“You’re not broken,” Flick tells Jamie directly. “You’re just learning. And she’s learning too. It’s hard for both of you.”

“Everyone makes it look so easy.”

“Everyone’s lying. Or they’ve forgotten how hard it was.” Flick adjusts her hold on Bella. “With my baby brother, he cried for six hours straight. I thought I was the worst person alive. And I hated him. As far as I was concerned he’d arrived to ruin all out lives.”

I’m watching Jamie and catch the flicker across his face he tries to smooth away.

“What did you do?” he asks.

“Called my nan in tears and asked her to take him back to the hospital.” Flick grins. “She told me to put him in his pram and take him for a walk. Sometimes movement helps. ”

Jamie nods frantically. “I’ll try anything.”

“But also,” Flick adds seriously, “don’t be afraid to ask for help. There’s no medal for suffering alone.”

Before anyone can respond, the door chimes yet again.

Damon sweeps in, Vinny behind him clutching records and looking slightly harassed.

“My star!” Damon announces, presenting Seren with her own EP with a flourish.

She stares at it, stunned. Her name. Her voice. Real and in her hands. The cover is simple—just her name in understated font against a dark background. Professional but not flashy.

“Jesus, Dad,” she mutters, but her hands shake as she takes it. “Just sign me up for the Nepotism Netball Team.”

“Nepotism’s only a crime if you’re talentless,” I offer.

She tries not to cry. Fails a bit. Her fingers trace the edges of the case.

“It’s good, Seren,” Vinny says quietly. “Really good. Radio’s already interested in the second track.”

“Radio?” She looks panicked.

“Just interest,” Damon soothes. “Nothing you don’t want to do.”

I pluck the EP from her and file it under new releases near the front of the shop, right at eye level.

“That’ll be twenty quid,” Damon says with a grin.

“I’ll take five,” I reply. “Artist’s discount.”

Seren shakes her head at me. “Soppy git.”

The conversation flows around us—Vinny showing off rare pressings he’s found, Damon holding court about the music industry, Flick offering Jamie gentle advice about sleep schedules while Bella finally dozes against her shoulder.

But I find myself watching Seren, the way she keeps glancing at her EP, the mixture of pride and terror on her face. This is what she wanted, but it’s also everything she’s been afraid of.

Eventually, they all disperse. Jamie leaves with Bella still sleeping and Flick’s phone number for “emergency baby consultations.” Damon and Vinny head off to some industry dinner that apparently requires their presence.

It’s just us again. Late afternoon light spilling golden across the warped wood floors. Quiet. Still.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Terrified,” she admits. “What if people hate it? What if they love it for the wrong reasons? What if?—”

I kiss her, cutting off the spiral. “What if it’s exactly what it’s supposed to be?”

She leans into me, and we stand there for a moment, listening to London carry on outside the shop windows.

Then the bell goes. Again.

Three girls, barely eighteen, hover nervously near the door. They whisper among themselves before one steps forward, phone clutched in her hand.

But they don’t even glance at me. Instead, they approach Seren.

“Excuse me,” the brave one says, “what are you?”

Seren startles, blinking at them. “I am a person, yes.”

I snort loudly, making one of them glance over at me. Then her eyes go wide.

“Oh my God, you’re Harrison Carter!” She pops her bubble gum in excitement. “You two are so cute together! I saw the photos from that restaurant in LA.”

I can’t help but grin. “Thanks.”

“Although,” the girl adds casually, “my dad says you’re a has-been now that Elementary split up.”

The other two girls gasp and shush her, mortified.

“Emma!” one hisses.

Seren tries to hide her laugh behind her hand, but I catch her eye and wink.

“Your dad’s not wrong,” I tell Emma cheerfully. “I’m definitely past my prime. That’s why I’m dating up.”

“We heard your EP online,” the second girl jumps in quickly, clearly trying to change the subject. “It’s brilliant. Could we... could we get a photo?”

Seren looks genuinely surprised. “I... really? You want a photo with me?”

“Please? And maybe you could sign this?” Emma holds out a piece of paper—lyrics, handwritten. From one of Seren’s songs.

Seren obliges, awkward but kind. She signs their paper, poses for a selfie, answers their shy questions about songwriting. When they leave, giggling and clutching their signed lyrics, she returns to me looking dazed.

“That was weird.”

“Get used to it.”

“Not sure I want to.”

I pull her close. Her head fits under my chin. Her heartbeat feels steady and real against my chest.

“Remember what you told me about being brave?”

“Vaguely.”

“Sometimes brave looks like letting people love what you’ve made, even when it scares you.”

She tilts her face up to mine. “Know the weirdest bit?”

“What?”

“This. Us. Six months ago, I thought you were every music industry cliché I hated.”

“And now?”

She kisses me. Slow, certain. “Now I can’t imagine my life without you. Even when you get stuck on bridges and hum constantly and leave coffee cups everywhere.”

“Even when you’re famous and unbearable?”

“I’m already unbearable. That’s not going to change.”

She laughs, and it’s the only sound that’s ever rivalled music.

“I love you,” she says.

“I love you too.”

And this—her, me, this dusty record shop in the middle of London where we’re both still figuring things out—sounds like home. Like belonging. Like a song that’s never quite finished, always growing, always becoming something new.

The End: Follow Jamie, Bella and Flick in The Silence Between US. Out December 2025