The studio went quiet.

Then Thorold laughed.

You sat cross-legged on a stool, an electric guitar resting against your thigh, while Elmore Melberg pressed a hand to his chest.

Thorold raised his coffee in silent confirmation.

You grinned and adjusted the guitar’s volume. The band had been trying a stripped-back arrangement of

for an anniversary show, and the transition into the heavier section kept losing its impact.

Elmore leaned against the console, waving you on.

You played the opening softly, translating the familiar piano part onto the guitar. Each note had room to linger. When you began singing, the teasing stopped.

Your voice was quieter than Elmore’s, a little rough at the edges. You let the melody build slowly, holding something back even as your fingers pressed harder against the strings.

Behind you, the studio door opened.

You didn’t notice.

Zeb Melberg stepped inside with his phone in his hand and a complaint ready on his tongue.

Elmore lifted one finger.

Zeb stopped.

His gaze moved past his father and settled on you.

You were bent slightly over the guitar, watching your fretting hand. A pencil held your hair up badly, and a notebook covered in scratched-out verses lay open beside your boot.

Then you looked up as you sang.

Zeb forgot what he’d come to say.

You carried the song into its soaring refrain, your voice filling the room as the guitar finally opened up beneath it. Thorold reached for his own instrument and added a low, sustained note.

By the time you stopped, Zeb’s phone screen had gone dark in his hand.

You muted the strings with your palm.

you said, pointing at Elmore,

Elmore nodded thoughtfully.

Then he glanced toward the door.

Your head turned.

A tall blond stood just inside the studio, black streaks falling through his tousled hair. Tattoos disappeared beneath the sleeves of a faded black vest, and several silver rings caught the light as he slipped his phone into his pocket.

He looked at his father.

You laughed, and Zeb’s attention came back to you at once.

you said.

His answer came quickly enough to earn another interested look from Elmore.

Zeb ignored him and walked closer.

You gave him your name.

His eyebrows lifted.

Elmore snorted.

Zeb glanced at your notebook, then back at you.

Elmore supplied.

You nodded.

That pleased him. He tried to hide it by hooking his thumbs into his pockets.

Thorold coughed into his coffee.

Zeb tilted his head.

His grin arrived slowly.

Elmore pulled out a chair.

Zeb’s jaw shifted. For the first time since you’d noticed him, he looked uncomfortable.

You reached down and closed your notebook.

you offered.

His eyes met yours, the grin easing into something more sincere.

he said.

You stood and lifted the guitar strap over your head. Zeb stepped forward to take the instrument, waiting until you handed it to him before setting it carefully in its stand.

you told him, collecting your notebook,

You glanced at the phone he’d already pulled out.

Zeb laughed and opened the studio door for you.

As you passed, he nodded toward the guitar.

He held your gaze a moment longer.

Behind you, Elmore sighed.

You smiled without looking back.