The phoenix song played so fast, Adeline had to keep hitting pause and backing up the recording. It was hard to hear if she hit the right note at the right time because the bass guitar played through an amp, but the song played through her laptop.
She had ducked out of the home theater, leaving Tegan, John, Matt, and Tim watching a movie. Equipment more sophisticated than anything they’d had back in high school packed the studio. There must be a way to play Gannon’s recording through the speakers, but she’d barely been able to get the bass plugged in and working.
Then again, her inability to use the equipment was an excuse. The truth? She’d dreamed up an advanced part too complex for a beginner.
She could feel it—what the song could be, what she intended to play—like a desperate need, the way a person hungry for air felt pressure in their lungs. But her fingers on the strings brought dissonance, not satisfaction. She replayed the first ten seconds of the recording and hit pause. As she fit her fingers back on the strings of the bass, the studio door cracked open.
She hadn’t seen Harper or Gannon since the two had fought on the lawn. Had Gannon returned from his ride? If so, he would be disappointed at how poorly she played. It’d be one more step toward an answer from God that didn’t result in them being together.
Matt entered instead. His forehead furrowed when he saw her, and he seemed to assess her setup—the computer, the bass. “You lost?”
She bit her lip. “Gannon said this would be all right.”
“You think you have a right to be here?” He stepped in, shut the door, and leaned against it. “Prove it.”
He was going to stand there and watch? He wasn’t this confrontational or challenging to Gannon, but Gannon also had a confident presence she couldn’t muster while holding a bass she couldn’t play right.
She replayed Gannon’s recording again, delaying the embarrassment a little longer. When it ended, all she could imagine was flubbing up the notes. She pressed the play button one more time.
The song ended all too soon. Matt crossed his arms, blue eyes icy with interest.
Maybe she could nail it. Maybe the music she felt would come out this time. After all, she’d once been good at this. The knowledge had to be there somewhere. She hit replay and tackled a few notes.
One of them hit where she’d meant it to. The others fumbled and fell.
Matt pushed away from the door, took a cable from somewhere in the maze of cords, and plugged it into her laptop. He leaned over the jumble of equipment that crowded the desk and pressed a few buttons.
“Try that.” When she didn’t, he came around behind her and tapped the touch pad to play the recording again. This time, Gannon’s voice and guitar sounded steady and clear through the speakers.
Her wrong notes grated against the melody.
“I can see why they left you behind.”
Gannon wouldn’t allow him to speak to her like that, but Gannon wasn’t here. No arguments about her former skill would help when none of it remained.
Matt extended his hand, demanding the bass.
She handed it over, praying he’d do even worse than she had.
He fit the strap over his head and shrugged, settling the instrument where he wanted it before he gave a nod to start the recording. What he played varied from what she’d envisioned—the notes were simple and repetitive, but they fit the music, grounding the song. And this was the first attempt of a drug addict. If she let him keep working, he could probably build from there, elaborating. Or maybe such a thing wasn’t necessary—bass lines didn’t have to be complicated.
That was her problem. She made everything complicated.
The song ended, and Matt set the bass in its stand. “You’ll never replace me.”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
“Great.” He smirked as he opened the door. “’Cause you couldn’t if you wanted to.”
Shortly after eleven, Gannon pulled through the gate at Havenridge. Halfway down the drive, he spotted headlights through the trees, moving fast. He swerved to the inside of the curve just as Matt’s car roared past, taking the turn wide. Gannon’s headlight flashed through the windshield, revealing Matt in the passenger seat. The driver seemed to have trouble straightening out after the curve, and then the lights disappeared down the road.
Gannon pulled to a full stop. John was an expert driver, and Tim a good one. Adeline and Tegan wouldn’t have experience handling a supercar, but they’d also never team up with Matt for a joyride.
That ruled out everyone but Harper, who wasn’t as good of a driver as she thought she was. If she was out with Matt, she probably planned to come back to the cabin afterward, but that wasn’t happening. He’d already told her to leave and had given her space to do so. She was out of chances.
He texted security and asked them to pack her bags and have those and her rental waiting for her at the gate when she returned. If she wasn’t in shape to drive herself, a team member could deliver her to a hotel, but he wouldn’t allow her to terrorize his relationship with Adeline a moment longer.
Harper English was not coming back on this property.
Gannon proceeded down the drive. The cabin’s exterior lights glowed, but the windows were dark and blank. He parked and pulled off the helmet and jacket as he let himself into the house. Moonlight fell through the windows into the great room. Along the balcony, Matt and Harper’s bedroom doors stood open, black rectangles.
He climbed to the third floor and resisted turning toward Adeline’s room to see if she was still awake and had anything to say about the songs. Instead, he made his way toward John’s. Before he got close enough to knock, one of the dogs sniffed loudly from the other side of the door. Must’ve sensed him coming. Shortly after, John opened the door, the light of a lamp and TV casting shadows around him.
John backed up and settled against the headboard, his arm behind his head, eyes focused on the television, where a documentary about migrating birds played. “Feel better?”
“Not really.” Gannon sat at the desk and scratched Trigger’s gray fur while the other dog jumped up next to his master.
John leaned out of the range of Camo’s tail as the dog circled twice before dropping into a curled-up ball. “Addie holed up in the studio most of the evening.”
“I gave her recordings of some of the songs to work with. I wasn’t sure she would.” But she had. Would she let him hear her, or was accepting his music separate from accepting him?
“Matt’s losing points fast. I went down to check on him about twenty minutes ago. He was already wasted. When I asked what happened to straightening out, he said, ‘False alarm.’ They got a good laugh out of that.”
“Was she drinking too?”
“Looked that way.”
“Now she’s driving. They were leaving when I pulled in. Maybe we should try to catch up with them before they do real damage. Or land in jail.” If security hadn’t packed Harper’s things already, Gannon could throw it all in her luggage, take it with, and deliver her to a hotel himself, then bring Matt home before he made more trouble for himself or Awestruck. He stood and moved to the door.
John scoffed and shook his head, eyes still on the TV screen. “You want to go there? Playing Harper’s hero last night meant not being Adeline’s.”
“Isn’t she sleeping?”
“That’s exactly what she was doing when her house lit up.” He switched which arm was behind his head without looking Gannon’s direction. “Every time you try to save Harper, you’re telling Adeline another woman has a hold on you. You’re going to have to choose whose hero you want to be. Let the others fend for themselves.”
“It’s not just about Harper. She could hurt anyone they meet on the street, not to mention the fact that Matt’s risking a lot of bad press—or imprisonment. Or worse.”
“We’ve given him chance after chance. We agreed we might need to replace him.”
“And what? Let him kill himself like Fitz did?”
That drew John’s attention away from the screen. “Matt isn’t Fitz.”
Though the door was open, Gannon twisted the knob one way and the other. Matt and Fitz struggled with different problems, but both were life-threatening.
“Fitz didn’t deserve to be fired,” John said, “but Matt’s only hope of changing is in experiencing consequences for his addiction. And Harper needs to be let go more than anyone.”
“And if something happens?”
“This is a stunt to get your attention. Intervening will reinforce that she gets her way by being reckless. You’ve got to cut her off. Sit this one out.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“She’s a drunk driver. Call the cops. Let them handle it.”
Objections swelled in his chest. Each of these episodes brought her closer to the point of changing. Everything he’d put up with before now would be useless if he missed the moment when she was finally ready.
But a drunk Harper wouldn’t be ready to make any changes or commitments, and he couldn’t knowingly let her endanger the public.
Fine. He’d sit it out. Call the police.
But even once he’d made the call, a sick ache permeated his chest. He lingered at the patio doors in the great room. Once Harper went back to LA, he’d feel a lot less responsible.
Lord, keep her safe. Break through to her. Matt too.
He shifted, and the lighthouse beacon came into view. Only then did he realize something on the lower patio by the cliff had blocked the light a second ago. He leaned his head, trying to discern the shape outlined by the dim lighting out along the wall. Was that a person?
The figure lifted a hand and moved as if to pull long hair over a shoulder. He’d seen Adeline do that exact thing. It had to be her out there, gazing at the lake.
Gannon pushed open the patio door and stepped outside.