Page 63 of The Keeper

By the time I cleared the traffic, parked, and rushed into the recital hall, sweaty and breathless, the program was nearing its fifty-minute mark.

My gut twisted. Evie had been practicing for the recital all year. If I missed her turn, I’d never forgive myself.

I should’ve asked Coach if I could leave training early today. Or I should’ve taken a different route. Or…

Should’ve, should’ve, should’ve. The word beat a merciless drum in my head, along with my last texts from Carina. She’d sent it when the recital started.

Carina

I saved you a seat in the front row. Left side, two seats down

Carina

No rush. See you soon :)

I scanned the hall and recognized the back of her head immediately, which would’ve been concerning on any other day except today. Today, my embarrassing awareness of her was a godsend.

I ignored the other parents’ dirty looks as I made my way to the front. Carina’s shoulders visibly relaxed when she saw me.

“You made it,” she whispered, removing her purse from the chair next to hers. She sounded relieved.

“Did I miss it?” I slipped into the now-empty seat.

She shook her head. “You’re just in time. Evie’s next after Karlie.” She nodded at the stage, where one of Evie’s classmates was taking her seat at the piano.

Thank God. The fist around my gut loosened, though a twinge of guilt remained. That had been too close. I needed to do better.

“There was horrible traffic.” I didn’t know why I felt the need to explain myself to her, but I did. “Roads were closed, and I⁠—”

“It’s okay,” Carina said with a small smile. “You made it. That’s what matters.”

Before I had a chance to respond, the woman on her other side shushed us with a glare that could’ve melted steel.

I clamped my mouth shut and tried to relax, but it was stifling in here. Too many bodies, too little space. The air was redolent with the scent of floor polish, paper programs, and a dozen different perfumes, but my senses homed in on Carina’s scent with unerring precision. Clean and citrusy. A breath of fresh air in the otherwise stale hall.

I shifted. There wasn’t much space between the seats, and her presence burned into my side. Although I was careful not to look directly at her, she filled my peripheral vision. Pink dress, dangly earrings, glowing skin. When I turned to investigate a small commotion on her other side, I couldn’t stop my eyes from tracing the curve of her semi-bare shoulders—or my imagination from wandering down paths it had no business exploring.

I dragged my gaze forward again, my jaw clenching and unclenching. My pulse refused to settle.

How was Karlie still playing? She’d been up there forever.

I bounced my leg, too restless to stay still. The seconds stretched into eternity, and right when I was on the verge of exploding, Carina placed a gentle hand on my knee.

I stilled. She was staring straight ahead, seemingly engrossed in the performance, but the heat from her touch seared through my pants and into my skin.

I swallowed. My pulse ratcheted up another notch.

Onstage, Karlie finally finished her solo. The crowd broke into applause, and twin waves of relief and disappointment surged through me when Carina removed her hand to clap alongside everyone else. The imprint of her palm lingered like a phantom touch.

“This is it,” she whispered when the emcee announced Evie’s name.

I straightened, instantly focused on the rustle of velvet drapes in the wings. My chest swelled with pride as Evie walked out, wearing the dress we’d bought the day we ran into Carina at the boutique.

She looked nervous, but when she was partway across the stage, she looked over. Her eyes found us immediately, and her whole face brightened.

I gave her an encouraging smile and a discreet thumbs-up. Beside me, Carina was practically vibrating with excitement. She made a heart with her hands and mouthed something. Evie’s grin widened.

She walked the rest of the way to the piano with noticeably more confidence. She took a seat and hesitated, her fingers hovering over the keys.