Space (Laws of Physics #2)(46)

If he doesn’t care, then it doesn’t matter.

Clearing my throat, and squeezing Allyn’s fingers, I lifted my voice above the hubbub and said calmly, “I’d like to hear your song, if you don’t mind playing it for me.”





I sat on the periphery of the main floor living room with Lila, slightly separating myself from the larger group on the other side so that, once the song was over, I could make a hasty getaway. Tomorrow, it would begin again, the turbulent rocket ride orbiting Abram. But as of right now, I’d had enough of turbulence, anguish, and making memories.

After Abram had agreed to my request with a nonchalant shrug and a neutral sounding, sure, the entire room fell into rapturous excitement, forgetting about me (to my relief). Well, everyone but Kaitlyn forgot about me. While the rest of her companions celebrated, she continued to examine me as though forming various and sundry theories behind her intelligent gray eyes.

Under the guise of helping Lila with the dishes, I quickly excused myself. Allyn followed and wrapped me in a hug once we reached the hallway, which I accepted, telling myself to enjoy the contact. It wasn’t uncomfortable, I didn’t hate it, and that felt like a win.

Once the hug was over, we helped Lila and Melvin with the dishes, and then Allyn sent me and Lila into the living room to scope out a seat. “I’ll be right there, I just want to make the winter tea first. I feel like you’re going to need it.”

By the time Lila and I arrived, everything had been settled but Abram was nowhere in sight. Jenny Vee informed us that the members of Redburn would be playing “Hold A Grudge” for everyone. But first, Melvin was helping them bring up the drum set from the basement studio, which they were almost finished assembling.

It would be an unplugged, acoustic performance. Nicole Mac from Fin would play Abram’s acoustic bass guitar so he could just sing, and everyone present had to agree not to film it or talk about it on social media. In fact, Ruthie went around and confiscated everyone’s phones, including mine.

Not that it mattered. Reception up here was always spotty at best, which was why I hadn’t called Lisa back to whisper-yell at her yet. Abram had told my sister that he loved me, and she never communicated that fact? UNACCEPTABLE!!

Never mind that you never gave her a chance, did you?

Go away, reason. You can’t sit here.

“How are you doing?” Allyn handed me a mug from a tray of three, her eyes full of sympathy. I gave my friend a grateful smile, though it was of a small diameter.

“No, thank you.” Lila shook her head when Allyn tried to hand her one of the mugs. “I’m not much of a tea person. But thank you, honey! Here, just leave the extra one right there on the coffee table, in case one of you wants another cup.”

“Are you sure?” Allyn sat on my other side, warming her hands on her mug.

Lila stood to take the now empty tray. “I’m not much of a tea person, but I think I will have a glass of wine. Can I get either of you anything while I’m up?”

We both shook our heads, saying, “No, thank you,” in unison.

Lila turned to leave, and I brought the tea to my nose, sniffing.

“Thank you for the tea.” It smelled like peppermint and . . . I lifted an eyebrow at my friend. “Is that whiskey?”

“Yes. It’s whiskey.” She gave me a pointed look and leaned forward to whisper, “How are you? Are you okay? You were weird around Kaitlyn, and you’ve been really quiet since everyone pressured you into asking the Captain to play his song.”

I shrugged, wanting to be honest, but honestly not knowing how I was feeling. Terrified? Anxious? Cold? Hot? Confused? All of the above.

The song title, “Hold A Grudge” had struck me as strangely familiar when Allyn told me about it a few days ago. If memory served, I’d said those exact words to Abram while we were in Chicago. But I’d quickly dismissed the notion that the song might’ve been about me. I couldn’t contemplate it. How conceited would that make me? Thinking Abram had written a song about me, and that song was now number one on billboard charts everywhere.

So I’d said, Get over yourself, Mona, and then I had (gotten over myself) and ignored the lingering, nagging suspicion.

However, after Abram’s harsh words in the study, I was now terrified to hear the song. Given everything he’d said, the chances of the song being about me—about us—felt more like fifty percent than zero percent. Did that make me conceited?

I had no idea.

These days, I felt like I didn’t know much about anything.

Sniffing the tea again, I endeavored to clear my mind of these chaotic thoughts and just enjoy the marriage-aroma of whiskey and peppermint. I decided it was a superior combination of smells. Then I took a sip and tried not to cough.

Allyn’s eyes widened, her sympathy for my emotional well-being replaced with concern for my physical. “Are you okay? Did I add too much whiskey?”

Swallowing tea and air and half of my tongue, I shook my head. “No. No, it’s perfect.” My voice was raspy. She looked unconvinced, so I took another sip—more of a gulp—and smiled. It still burned, but the second swallow had been considerably easier.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure. I feel . . . steadier already.”

Her worried eyes conducted another pass of my face. “Let’s talk about something else. I asked you earlier, about Charlie. He hasn’t come up to you tonight. He backed off, huh?”