Evolution by Lissa Kasey

Author:Lissa Kasey [Kasey, Lissa]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: DSP Publications
Published: 2015-07-27T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

OTHER THAN rising to feed Mikka, I didn’t stir for more than a few minutes the whole next day and neither did Kerstrande. The alarm clock eased me awake two days later with some quiet tunes from my favorite station. Seven in the morning, KC must have set it for me. I didn’t know how well I could sing, but I’d do some warm-ups and show up at the studio with my game face on.

Breakfast was fried eggs and coffee with an almond milk creamer. The creamer surprised me because I loved it but rarely had the money for it. Kerstrande used real cream in his, which meant he’d bought it just for me. All the food seemed to be meant for me. Cupboards full of ramen and boxed food, freezer full of microwave dinners. He never touched any of it. But I didn’t comment for fear it’d make him grumpy.

All the windows in the apartment huddled behind dark shades and blinds, keeping the light out. Still, something about the sun being up seemed to bother him. When he went in one of the rooms with a window, he scratched and fidgeted. So most of the time he sat in the kitchen, away from the light. Just like that morning.

Kerstrande sat in the darkest corner of the kitchen, near the fridge, chair pressed against the wall, a couple of sheets of paper in his hand. My orange notebook lay open beside the chair. Had he been looking through it? Damn. Talk about laying out a guy’s soul.

“Coffee? Eggs?” I offered.

He glanced up like he hadn’t seen me enter the kitchen twenty minutes ago. “Coffee, cream, no sugar today.”

I poured him a cup, then set it beside him on the counter and returned to my eggs. Today would be a good day. No more sickness. I was healing. My lungs felt better. I couldn’t run a marathon, but I could sing a little.

Kerstrande appeared next to me, nearly making me flip the plate. He steadied my wrist, then plopped papers on the marble island. Sheet music, handwritten.

“What’s this?” I skimmed the words, which sounded familiar. The melody reminded me—I glanced toward the orange notebook.

“Music, moron. You’d think being a singer you’d have that much figured out by now.” His snippy tone made me smile. At least he was back to normal.

“Midnight Rain” by Genesis Sage and Kerstrande Petterson, the title read. My rainy-night heartbreak song. The fleshed-out guitar line would make Rob drool. It poured across the page like the rain had washed the pain from my life that night. This version was better polished. The sad wail of the guitar, the quiet plinking of the keyboard—I could almost feel the song through the page. The vocal line ripped two and a half octave ranges, making my heart pound with excitement. If I could sing this, it would be better than “Red Rose.” Rob would have to help me get the pitch right, but the rest would just flow.

“How?” I pulled the orange notebook off the floor and flipped to the most recent entry.

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