Page 21 of Sing For Me

“Wait—shewasa pretty big deal?”

Before she can answer, understanding dawns on Quinn’s face. “Hang on, she was in that fire, right?”

His words strike the shadow of a memory in me. I might have done everything I could possibly do to avoid the mere mention of the music industry over the last several years, but there are some stories big enough to filter through even to me.

“The Booker Club fire,” I mutter, barely noticing when Hannie nods. It had been all over the news last summer. Faulty wiring in the light system combined with outdated sound dampening materials had spelled disaster. The resulting stampede for too few exit doors in the dark club had only added to the panic.

People had died in that fire. More had been injured.

Evais injured.

The thought makes me want to puke. Was the fire where she’d gotten hurt?

“I’m pretty sure she hasn’t performed since then,” Hannie is saying, her voice sounding far away as my brain buzzes with this new information. “TMZ just did a feature, actually, wondering where she’s been the last year—”

“She’s a singer,” I mutter to myself, interrupting her. “Eva is a pop star.”

“Uh, dude, you doing okay?” Dave slaps a hand on my back. “You look a little pale.”

“Will?” Lulu asks, reaching for my arm, concern written all over her face.

I pull away, almost stumbling backwards. I have no intention of trying to explain it to them. Why finding out that Eva is a musician is such a gut punch to me.

“I have work to do,” I mutter, already turning to go. My brain is heading down that familiar path, relieving memories, dredging up all the old heartbreak.

I can’t do it again,I think as I half stumble back to the office. I won’t.

I made a promise to myself four years, two months, and twelve days ago. Never again will I let myself get caught up in someone likeher. No musicians. No singers, no song writers. No one with even a passing involvement in the industry that ruined so many of my dreams.

It’s the one promise I can’t let myself break.

Music killed the only woman I’ve loved in my entire life. And I refuse to ever make that mistake again.

* * *

I probably shouldn’t be here.

As much as I love my family, I should be as far away from this house as humanly possible right now. There are too many forbidden memories tied up in this place. Sitting on my dad’s lap while he and his brothers wrote songs. Hiding behind the furniture while they discussed plans for the label. Listening to Wyatt practice piano. My grandfather teaching me to play guitar.

Sitting withherin my bedroom, our backs propped against the end of the bed, strumming my acoustic Fender while she sings. Eric Clapton. Alicia Keys. Billie Holiday. Her sweet voice haunting and perfect.

Stop.

I grip the steering wheel harder. I shouldn’t be here.

Before I can do the smart thing—put the car in drive and go—someone knocks on the glass. I blink over at the window, still trapped in the haze that’s descended over my mind, and see my little brother grinning at me.

“Hey! You showed up.”

I shouldn’t be here.

But I can’t stand the thought of Silas’s expression if I take off right now. I haven’t seen the kid in more than a week—probably a record for us—and I know he’s starting to get bothered by it. So I take a deep breath and pull the keys from the ignition.

Go in and say hi,I tell myself. Be a decent brother.Then you can go home and crash.

Si is no longer smiling when I climb out of the car. Instead he’s looking at me with an expression similar to the one my friends at the shop had worn.

Stop thinking about it.