That’s because I still haven’t perfected it, I think but don’t say. He’s right; I really could use the extra practice. Even Mrs. G made a comment along the lines of “Okay, that’s enough living life now, dear” at my last lesson, but I don’t want him stressing about it. He stresses about too much as it is.

“What about our mutual improvement plan?” I smirk. “Don’t you have more homework?”

And that’s another rule, my mom’s “mutual improvement plan.” It was part of the deal to have him over on school nights at all. We both have to do our homework either here or at the shop, and she checks it now like I’m back in elementary school. You get one C-plus and—

“I’ll do it after.”

“Fiiiiine,” I whine, but I’ve already turned to the page.

I pick up my bow and take a deep breath, looking right at him before I start. Just seeing him so expectant and calm settles the nerves inside me. He makes me feel like I can do anything.

He gives me a little nod that simultaneously melts my heart and steels my spine, and I slide the bow across my strings. For the first time, I don’t miss a single note.

For the first time, it’s perfect.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Ridley

I CAN TELL right away that Vera is pissed. I don’t even know why I stopped by the shop today, other than I just needed to get out of my dad’s way and had nowhere else to go. He’s been working from home more and more—the number of days he stays home directly proportional to the amount he drinks.

I’ve been doing a decent job of avoiding Vera lately. Every time she’s nice to me, it feels like a knife twisting in my belly. But it’s Friday morning, which means Peak’s in school, and it’s just Vera and me in the shop. Peak and I have plans to hang out later—a quick hot cocoa, and then it’s back to her house for homework and practice.

Which has actually been working, by the way. I’m three assignments ahead now, and my GPA is, well, passing. Peak is practicing more too. My phone is so full I have to keep deleting apps to make room for new recordings. I feel . . . not good exactly, but like the possibility of good. Like I’ve been tied in knots my whole life, and then Peak came along and undid one, and now I want to untangle all the rest of them.

I texted Frankie, which is a new thing that I definitely don’t mind, and he said it’s called hope.