After I dropped off Felicity, I had nowhere to go. I’d cut ties from all of my Baltimore properties when I left. A shitbox apartment I’d been sharing with our drummer wasn’t worth paying to keep up. Especially since neither of us had any designs to come back to Baltimore.

All I had was the house.

And it wasn’t even officially mine.

The paperwork was done, just in the hands of banks and lawyers. I had more than enough to buy it outright, but banks actually tended to steer you clear of that. Investment, blah, blah, credit, blah.

So I had a mortgage.

Insurance.

Paperwork out my ass and phone calls to make.

What was I doing?

Sitting in the middle of my empty living room with my battered keyboard case sitting in front of me on the carpeting. Stickers and decals from dozens of different cities were layered over each other on the pebbly black surface. The handle had two chips on it from falling out of our bus numerous times.

I traced my thumb over the faded sticker in the corner. Shady’s. The first gig I’d ever had with my band. Felicity had been front and center the whole time. Always right there for me and my music.

Leaving her behind had nearly killed me, but the road and music had beckoned in a way I still couldn’t define. When had that gone silent?

Both of my first loves were tied up in a yin-yang of silence and passion. No matter how much I’d loved Felicity, I’d been too afraid to go after her. I’d poured all my passion into my music.

Without Fee, the passion had waned under the pressure of the studios, interpersonal drama in the band, and my own restrictions as part of a group. My ideas hadn’t meshed with my friends’ ideas anymore. The more successful we got, the narrower the focus had become in the band itself.

I flicked open the locks on my ancient keyboard. I’d hocked everything I’d owned and borrowed money from my parents to buy it. It might not be as high end as the keyboards I could buy now, but it had heart. And it had been a damn long time since I’d allowed myself to open it.

When I’d left the band, it was the only thing I’d actually taken with me. The rest of my equipment had been shipped and stored, but I couldn’t leave this behind.

I teased the edges of the keys. Places where the first layer of plastic had worn away under my fingers played hopscotch across the white in a pattern of my past. A few of the black keys were just as battered.

I stroked down a series of notes and heard the melody in my head. For the first time in too many months, I needed to hear music. My music. I actually craved it. I fished out the plug and crawled across the hardwood to an outlet. I folded my legs cross-legged under me and flicked switches and settings until an arrow of blue lights flared over the top.

With a gentle brush of my fingers, I picked out notes that had been following me since I’d left Felicity that very first time. I’d never been able to get the melody right. The lyrics had been jumbled up and spit out in a number of versions.

Nothing worked.

A knot between my shoulder blades loosened as I allowed songs I’d loved since I was young to trip out and into the vaulted ceilings of the living room and foyer. The music echoed in the near emptiness of the house.

A few staging pieces of furniture were clustered here and there, but nothing that could fill a space.

And music sounded so very different in an empty room.

I needed to work harder to make it shine. To let it breathe and build.

The sun slipped behind the trees, leaving me in darkness, save for one lamp in the corner. I didn’t even notice. I couldn’t chase the notes fast enough.

My fingers cramped and still I played. Mumford, Frank Turner, the Eagles, even freaking Elvis songs. It didn’t matter. Whatever came into my head, I let it out. And when the purge finally came, my shoulders were sore from playing hunched over for hours.

I dropped onto my back on the hardwood floor, my head cushioned on the edge of an area rug. My heart was racing and my head felt blissfully empty for a moment. The ceiling was a spindly design of shadows from the trees and the rising moon. I reached around for my phone. I’d tossed it aside during my mad piano tirade.

Fuck. It was well after dinnertime. I’d been at it for hours. My gut growled and the empty head turned into a dull throb from hunger. I rolled up to a seated position and groaned on my way to my feet.

Too old to be sitting on the floor like a damn teenager.

I wandered into the kitchen and drank three glasses of water before unearthing my phone again. My thumb hovered over the number for the pub.

She wouldn’t be there, but the food was good and hot. I ordered their chili in a bread bowl as well as a few desserts then hopped into my truck. The ride back into Baltimore and Pat’s gave me time to pick apart what Felicity had said.

The anger and hurt had time to gestate and multiply while I’d been playing my damn pain out. But the fact that I’d immediately gone for the keys to get it out told me she’d had a lot of truth in her words.

I would die without music.

I’d just been withering in a different way with the band. And I hated to pick that apart. I’d always been part of a band. I never wanted to be in the front lines. I didn’t have the lead singer disease that almost every one of them did.

At least I didn’t think I did.

The more I unpacked why I was so miserable, the more I had to own up to the fact that maybe it wasn’t the band. Maybe it was just me. Maybe I needed to go my own way, not retire.

And I really didn’t know what that meant.

I pulled into the busy parking lot for the pub and found a spot on the fringes. The place was rocking, with people littering the street and inside the vestibule. I fought my way in and aimed for the bar where the to-go orders would be. A friendly bartender smiled at me when I approached.

Tristan stepped up behind her. “Hey there.”

“Wow, popping’ tonight.”

Tristan rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, watch party for one of those music shows and ladies’ night, all in one go.”

I glanced over my shoulder at the stage with the trio of huge televisions. Usually they were broadcasting current sports games, but now celebrity judges filled the screens with screaming crowds. Sweet Jesus, I couldn’t figure that out. No one sang their own songs. How would they know if they actually had talent if they were just mimicking another artist?

Then again, I’d been doing the same. Mimicking what the band needed me to be.

I turned back to Tristan. “Looks like people are having a good time.”

“Sky hates it, but it’s good business. And whatever gets the beer taps flowing.” He placed a brown bag in front of me. “Tell Felicity we miss her.”

“What makes you think she’s with me?” I wished, but she so was not.

“Oh. Guess she couldn’t shake that train idea, huh?”

I frowned. “You know about that?”

“Yeah. She’s been planning it for months. She was going to go travel the states on her way to meet up with you guys, actually.” He frowned. “Did the tour change dates?”

I shook my head. “Just me.” I gripped the edge of the bar. “Wait, did you say meet up with me?”

“Yeah, she was going to go find you in one of the Midwest states. See if she could steal you away during your break in dates. You should have seen her at the counter with printouts for train stations and your tour schedule. It would help if you guys didn’t hopscotch around to different states. Finally, she figured out two months for her to travel and explore before…” Tristan trailed off. “I guess maybe that’s not going to work now, huh?”

She was going to find me?

Fuck.

That was what she’d meant by ruining her plans. And now I’d ruined them double time, by trying to hold her down here when all she wanted to do was fly.

With me.

Fuck, I was so damn stupid.

I backed away from the bar and headed for the door.

“Hey! You forgot your food.”

I weaved my way back to the bar. “Sorry. Thanks. Thanks for everything.”

“Just food, dude.”

“You have no idea.” I laughed and clutched the bag against my chest as I fought my way through the women of all ages vying for a spot near the televisions. One of them recognized me, and I was able to slip out the door before she got to me.

I ran for my truck and slammed it into gear.

All this time, she’d been planning to come to me. I didn’t even know how to process that. She’d been willing to take a chance and come for me. There was still hope. She couldn’t feel that differently now.

I just needed to alter my course a little.

Thanks to my familiarity with my hometown, I knew just what to do. A few exits away was a chain music store. I only needed a few things. I’d spent hours at the various music stores in the area, but those places had normal hours and I only had tonight to get my shit together.

An idea pollenated in my brain.

I bought a stand for my keyboard and a small amp.

The very helpful clerk at the store tried to get my attention three times, but I couldn’t concentrate on mundane conversation. Between the lyrics bombarding my head and the knowledge that maybe Felicity might not be completely out of my life, I couldn’t really handle the public niceties tonight.

Finally, with the gear in the back of my truck, I headed back to the house.

The house that wasn’t really mine, but could be with a little more work. With a little more love and attention, it might be a good part-time residence, perhaps.

But this time, I’d make sure I had the girl before I made any more plans.