by C J Burright
“I was sort of…stuck.” Adara didn’t bother adding that she was still slightly wedged, but a year, a month, a week ago, she wouldn’t have been able to even talk about Joey, and she suspected Garret was to blame.
Blue-diamond tears sparkled in Gia’s eyes. “I think I’m going to be stuck for a while longer.”
“Without random dudes, right? Because they won’t help unstick you, and you deserve better. Settling for anything less than the love you deserve is a betrayal to Joey. If I have to, I’ll glue the lyrics to Glitter Girl on your forehead.”
Gia’s pale eyebrows shot up. “Oh, really? Garret didn’t unstick you with his stick?”
Her face went insta-fire. “That’s a shameless quest for dirty details.”
“So he didn’t stick you?” She giggled and rolled off the bed as Adara hit her with a pillow. “Violence speaks louder than any words, Dar.”
Adara peered over the edge of the bed at Gia, who lay on her back, still smiling. Gia didn’t need to know that all sticks had been placed on standby through a lack of commitment on her part. She loosed a long breath. “I love him.”
Once the words were out, there was no going back. Maybe that’s why she’d blurted them without fully considering the consequences. Maybe she didn’t want any excuse to go back, even if she wasn’t sure what to do about the confession.
Gia scrambled to a sit, her eyes wide. “And? Does he love you too?”
Adara shrugged one shoulder. “Since day one, I’ve pushed him away. Yesterday, I shoved hard. I thought it was the right thing to do. Now I’m not so sure.”
She nodded slowly. “Because he got to you.” Obviously sensing Adara’s doubt, she continued. “He knew what he was up against. I made sure of it. I used it to try to discourage him from chasing you, before I was convinced otherwise.” A faint flush invaded her cheeks, whether from the wine or something else, Adara couldn’t tell.
“I hurt him.” Her stomach rolled in affirmation. “I told him I needed space because I did. I do. Garret deserves one hundred percent. I don’t know if I can give him that.”
Gia leaned an elbow on the bed and squarely met her gaze. “I’d trade anything, anything for another day with Joey.” Her smile wobbled. “There are always a zillion ‘what ifs’ floating around, and some of them you’ll never be prepared for. We both know that. If you love him, that’s enough. Don’t trade slivers of happiness for slices of fear.”
“Wow.” Adara smiled crookedly. “You sound like a counselor.”
“And that’s all the guidance I’ll offer without a fee.” She grabbed her wine glass from the nightstand and drained it.
Adara gazed out of the window into the night, rain pelting the glass in a gentle, soothing rhythm, and her eyelids drooped. She still wasn’t sure what to do about Garret, but with Gia near, wrapped in Joey’s presence, the fear felt far away. “I think he’s some sort of musical soul guru.”
“No way.” Gia flopped on her stomach, crosswise at the foot of the bed, making the mattress bounce. “If I’d gotten a hippie vibe, I would’ve sent him packing.”
Adara halfheartedly poked her in the shoulder with a toe. “I thought I was supposed to be the one watching out for you.”
“We’re supposed to watch out for each other.” Gia laid her head on her arms and closed her eyes. “Idjit.”
“Can’t argue that one. Diva.”
“Stark princess.”
“I’d totally be okay with that if it hadn’t come from Ian.” She curled onto her side and nestled into the pillow. “Want to tell me what’s going on between you two?”
Gia’s eyes popped open. “What? No.” The response might’ve sounded innocent if not for the squeak in her voice. “Nothing. He’s off-limits, remember? ‘A rotten, scum-sucking lawyer-type’, to repeat the precise titles you gave him last year.”
“Liar.” Adara yawned and closed her eyes. “Staying the night?”
“Is that okay?” Gia’s voice sounded small, so hopeful.
“You’re the closest thing to Joey I have left,” she said softly, repeating the same words Gia had told her weeks ago.
Gia gave a tiny, shuddering sob and squeezed Adara’s foot. “I’m so glad you’re back.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Tuesday night, wedged between Gia and Principal Austin in the back row of plastic chairs filling the school gym, Adara clasped her hands together and tried not to twitch. Today had been hell. A large part of the day had involved a stern discussion on stranger danger. Tatum had been resilient, showing up to school and having no problem being the center of attention. Definitely a family trait.
Garret had shown up exactly on time, politely taken the kids for a final rehearsal and herded them back after an extra-long practice session. He didn’t even set foot in the classroom. She’d asked for space and he’d obliged.
But space didn’t fit anymore—too loose in some spots, too tight in others.
“Since you survived the torture of supervising a free music mentor, what are your thoughts on the music program…or lack thereof?” Austin pushed up his glasses and blinked at her. “Or to be more precise, am I going to regret sitting through this next hour and will my eardrums survive?”
Leave it to Austin to kill two fish with one rock and include his own well-being. “I still wouldn’t trade my job for the music program, but it’s a tragedy we can’t have both. Mr. Ambrose figured out how to include even the kids who have zero musical inclination.” Her voice scratched, warped by her closing throat. “And even while he gloriously failed in the child control department, he inspired every one of them to be part of the symphony.” An ache thrummed in her chest and the air seemed to thin, making it hard to breathe. “He’s a musical genius.”
“And all this time I thought you didn’t think too much of the guy.” Austin stroked his mustache, his gaze on the fluttering stage curtain where the random chime of a bell struck too soon and was quickly silenced. “I need to brush up on my body language interpretation skills.”
She went still. Had she been that frigid toward Garret in public, enough that the casual observer thought she didn’t even respect him, let alone like him? The thought slithered inside, a cold and trembling awareness. Garret surely knew how she felt.
Doesn’t he?
“I should have brought a snack.” Austin huffed an impatient breath.
She snorted. “What happened to the cupcakes Olivia left in the breakroom?”
He suddenly pretended to find something in the crowd extremely interesting while absently rubbing his paunch.
“Here we go.” Gia nudged her arm, facing the stage.
The curtains parted, and there he was. Maybe she should’ve taken stock of her kids, made sure they were all accounted for, no bloody noses or bruises, but she couldn’t tear her attention from Garret. She’d missed him…a lot. She hadn’t realized how much until his gravity drew her back in.
“Parents and families, teachers and friends, thank you for coming.” His voice washed over her, a soothing lullaby, and she tuned out his introductory speech, content to ogle from afar.
He’d foregone the pirate vibe and gone for clean-cut. She wasn’t sure which version she liked more. The stubble she loved was gone, but the absence took nothing away from his handsome face. His soft hair was combed neatly back and secured, and he’d traded his faded jeans for no-holes black ones, a white button-down shirt and black rocker boots. Barely three days had passed since the Bella saga, yet it felt like a chapter from someone else’s biography. And it felt like years since she’d looked, really looked at Garret. That fluttering in her heart yawned awake.
“To Miss Dumont—”
She jerked straight at the combination of her name and Gia’s elbow nudge.
“For loaning me her classroom, students and generous time.” His smile seemed forced, less brilliant, and for once, it wasn’t aimed at her. He stepped to the side and turned halfway toward the fidgeting students. “There was some disagreement as to
themes and songs.” He huffed a little laugh. “I learned that ‘unanimous’ is a term not to be used with third-graders.”
Laughter rippled across the crowd, and Adara smiled too. He was finally catching on.
“So, in a celebration of individuality, I now present to you Chaos Harmonified.”
Austin mumbled what sounded to be a desperate prayer.
Sinking to his knees to be at the third-graders’ eye level, Garret played the part of conductor. He nodded at Ava who, for once, looked serious. She hit the xylophone with her mallet and clear notes rang through the air.
By the fifth note, Adara bit her lip to hide a ridiculous smile. A Whole New World. Her favorite animated film song, something all her students knew. Riley joined in with the Irish whistle, soft, not overpowering the xylophone, and the two recorders picked up the melody. With only a point from Garret, Zachary on autoharp and Haley’s finger cymbals hit their marks perfectly. Finally, the percussion and bells joined in, Dalaynee picking up with the kazoo. Tatum clanged her cowbell, and the xylophone subtly changed tunes. Song melding, Garret Ambrose style. Only Garret would have thought to blend Disney and AC/DC. Back in Black had never sounded so cute.
Adara furiously blinked back tears as applause thundered in surround sound. She couldn’t be more proud, both of her kids and Garret for getting them there. No matter what Gia said, he was truly a musical guru. He was—she swallowed hard—life-changing.
As the noise died, Ashton separated from the line and sat in the middle of the stage, gripping her Irish whistle. Garret sat beside her, cross-legged, with his violin.
Adara gripped the edge of her seat. This was going to be bad. She could feel it.
The bongo started up and Garret joined with the violin…soft, so soft. Ashton’s hands shook, but the simplified melody didn’t require steadiness. Poignant and haunting, it held an undeniable Celtic flavor. The finger cymbals and crow sounder added volume, surprisingly not drowning out the Irish whistle, and soon the other instruments joined in.
She clamped her lips together and dug her fingernails into the chair, anything to keep the tears in check. So that’s what Garret had been doing when she’d caught him late at school with Ashton and her brother. He’d personally given Ashton a step up in overcoming her shyness.
A rusted lock clicked inside her, sharp and shattering. Without even trying, he’d ripped her apart and patched her up. In the months spent in her classroom, he’d noticed the intricacies in her kids, awakened the beauty most others couldn’t see and carefully championed it.
Just as he’d done with her.
Her heart compressed into a hard, throbbing ball, so tight she couldn’t breathe, and the intuition that had prevented her from truly pushing Garret away crystallized in desperate recognition. Returning to merely existing would be like pretending he didn’t exist. Rejecting inspiration he offered the world, specifically to her, would be a complete disregard for something altogether priceless. No matter the potential pain, she didn’t want to backtrack or remain shackled to a life safe, empty and illusory. She wanted a life full and real—and definitely with Garret.
Peace washed through her in a cleansing tide, eroding the heaviness in her soul, and she took her first full breath in what felt an eternity.
As if in response to her epiphany, between one beat and the next, Adam tripped, right into his drum. The instrument crashed into Ava in the row ahead, knocking her into her music stand. Almost in slow motion, the stands collapsed into one another, a domino game gone rogue. The music ended in a dissonant screech as children scrambled over each other in a tangle of limbs and instruments, and the crying began. Through it all, Garret froze, his expression utterly lost.
Adara wanted to throw up. This was her fault. She’d insisted that Adam and Sammy be separated, and Garret had caved to her. If the drum had stayed to the side, separate, it would have been a single casualty, not a natural musical disaster.
Someone had the good sense to close the stage curtain. As Principal Austin fumbled with a regretful speech to the crowd on the other side, Adara gently touched the red mark on Haley’s finger. “This is what we call a music recital war wound.” She met Haley’s tear-filled eyes. “Think you’ll survive to play finger cymbals another day?”
Haley sniffled, looking thoughtful and finally nodded. “But next time, I want a solo.” She skipped off to join the sullen huddle of Ava and Dalaynee. At least one student wasn’t scarred by music.
Garret knelt beside Adam, who hadn’t stopped crying, and her heart twisted at his haunted expression. He clearly blamed himself and took the recital disaster as a personal failure. Once order was restored, she would assure him it was all on her. Tell him…everything.
Austin poked his face through the curtain slit. “Everything copacetic?”
“The only casualties were a drum, two music stands and a xylophone mallet.” Adara ruffled Riley’s curls and took the whistle from her little fingers, giving her an encouraging smile. “All small humans survived with only minor scrapes and bruises.”
He heaved a sigh of relief. “Parents are waiting, so whenever the kids are ready to go.” He vanished behind the curtain.
“Wait here, Riley.” Adara headed for the back corner of the stage to Garret and Adam and crouched beside them. Garret flashed her a helpless look. “In a few days, no one else will be thinking about tonight, Adam.” She dabbed at his wet cheeks with a tissue. “And the only thing you should remember about tonight is how awesomely you played your drum.” She wanted more than anything to grab Garret’s hand, to let him know her words were meant for him too.
Adam sucked in a few shaky breaths. “But I d-dropped it.”
“True, but until then, you rocked it, and I’m so proud of you.” She met Garret’s gaze, the shadows in his dark eyes killing her. “Parents are waiting. Would you mind waiting by the curtain and guiding the kids out?”
His throat worked and he nodded. Without a word, he obeyed.
“Third-graders gather.” In less than ten seconds, all her students circled her and Adam. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “When I say so, line up single file behind Riley to go find your parents. Before you leave, I want each of you to shake Mr. Ambrose’s hand and thank him for sharing the gift of his music.” She gave them all a stern look. “Got it?”
Lots of nods, only a few remaining tears.
Adara let her smile fly free. “Move.”
One by one, the kids shook Garret’s hand with words of appreciation only third-graders could manage, but his expression never changed. If anything, he looked even more miserable by the time Adam slipped past the curtain, leaving them alone at last. Slumping, he shoved his hands in his pockets and briefly closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry.” She touched his arm, unable to ignore the tension trembling there. “If I hadn’t insisted that you to move Sammy—”
“I’m to blame.” He opened his eyes but kept his attention on the curtain, as if he couldn’t wait to escape. “This was my project, not yours. I’m responsible for the decisions made.” He briefly met her gaze. “Thank you for sharing your students with me.”
“Garret, I—”
“I have to go.” He cut between the curtains, and he was gone.
Chilled, she stared at the rippling curtains. I’m sorry for pushing you away. I’m ready now. I love you. All the things she wanted to tell him remained trapped, unsaid. The curt dismissal was unexpected, and no matter how much it stung, she got it. She’d needed the same privacy when she’d failed to collect enough signatures to save her job.
She’d give him tonight. Tomorrow, she’d tell him everything.
Maybe then the barb suddenly stuck in her throat would be gone.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Screw giving Garret a night to sulk. Adara grabbed her phone. The need to make things right with him burned like coals in her chest.
Have time to talk?
The screen went dark, no response. He might be with the Sullivans—or mayb
e he’d turned his phone off for the concert and forgot to turn it back on. Maybe his battery had died. Or maybe it was payback. There were a dozen reasons for him not responding, but none of them eased the knot in her neck.
She leaped from the couch and barreled toward the door. Digital communication was overrated anyway. She needed to see him, touch him, put her hand on his heart and memorize his rhythm when she told him she wanted life with him, that she was all in. Midnight might be when the magic ended according to some sources, but sometimes you had to make your own magic.
Half an hour later, Adara pulled up to the Sullivan’s two-story residence and ignored her roaring pulse and shaking hands. Rain ricocheted on her roof like dropped bullet casings, blurring the view. Garret hadn’t been home, so here she was.
Despite the late hour, lights glared inside, defiantly pushing into the black night. She’d feel better if there was a neon ‘Welcome Adara’ sign flashing in the window. Since Tatum’s kidnapping, she hadn’t spoken to Bob or London. Garret wouldn’t hide their breakup from his family, proving they were right about her.
One by one, she uncurled her fingers from the steering wheel. All in.
Adara lifted her hood and sprinted across the glistening sidewalk to the porch. She hit the doorbell and waited, her heart climbing her throat with each passing second.
Footsteps thumped inside the house, paused long enough for someone to look through the peephole. Paused longer, as if deciding whether or not to allow her entry. At last, the door squeaked open. London filled the doorway in yoga pants and a Gymnasts Do It Better T-shirt. A pitbull preparing to attack looked friendlier.
Not promising at all. Adara cleared her throat and tried for a smile. It probably resembled more of a grimace, so she gave it up and went for real. “Sorry to bother you so late. I’m trying to reach Garret. He hasn’t answered my texts and he wasn’t home. I hoped he was here.”
London folded her arms. “He’s not.”