I peeked around the corner just in time to see Simon scan the room, his eyes roving hungrily before he bowed his head in disappointment.

“Now for my last song. It’s brand-new. Not one I intended to play, but . . .” He trailed off. “Sometimes life changes. Sometimes you fall down.” He blew out a breath. “And sometimes, you take down the people you care about most in the process.”

The chords were more complex—a testament to his growth as a musician. The minor chords settled over me. Simon liked to play with them—push them as far as he could go while remaining upbeat. This melody teetered on the edge of complete heartbreak.

And then he began to sing.

A cloud passed before the sun,

On that day when we fell down

Now, I miss your eyes and your smile

I want to ask you just to sit awhile

But the dark consumes me as the clouds rolled in

On the day when we fell down.

I didn’t catch the rest of the words. My heart hammered too loud.

His face . . . the way his lips twisted and his eyes beseeched . . . he hurt, too.

As much as I did.

Why hadn’t I seen that?

I didn’t want to see it.

The last note faded, the crowd hooted and hollered, clearly unaware of how much of his soul Simon left in their ears tonight.

“Thanks for coming. Have a great holiday.”

Simon’s shoulders heaved and he lifted his left hand, standing fast enough to make his stool screech across the wooden stage. He strode forward, not even acknowledging the ear-splitting applause.

I stood, too. My legs wobbled a bit, and I blinked back the strange black globs floating through my vision.

“Simon.”

He kept walking. Almost to the door. His shoulders rose again, as if he was breaking down.

“Simon,” I cried, hurrying forward. I scuttled around a rowdy group of university boys and another older set of men who hooted as I bounded past.

He reached the door. His hand grasped the knob.

“Simon.”

He disappeared through the door.

It shut with a deep resonate thud.

Like he’d just sealed our fate.

No. No. He couldn’t be gone.

18

Simon

I finished the set.

I said some final words and waved. I strode off the stage and didn’t look back. I shoved my guitar into its case and snapped the locks before grabbing my coat. Shoving my arms into the sleeves, I picked up my guitar case and snagged my car keys.

“Where are you running off to?” Angelica said, breathless, her eyes alight.

“Home.” I paused, my fingers going numb. Except I didn’t know where that was anymore. I’d given up the right to my house in Seattle when I visited my lawyer.

Shit. This was hard.

“Don’t you want to know how the simulcast was received?”

“No.”