Page 107 of The Sound Between Us

The honesty catches me off guard. I was expecting deflection, manipulation. Not this raw admission.

“What do you want to know?”

“If you’re really over him. If going back to LA is about the music or about trying to win him back.”

The question hits harder than it should. “Why does it matter to you?”

She’s quiet for a long moment, staring into her wine. “Because I care about you. Despite evidence to the contrary.”

“Since when?”

“Since always, maybe. Just because I’m shit at showing it doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

There’s something in her voice I’ve never heard before. Vulnerability, maybe. Or regret.

“The thing about Harrison,” she continues, “he has a type. Complicated brunettes with daddy issues.”

I smile bitterly. “So I’m just another variation.”

“No,” she says firmly, but then I can see her rebuilding her walls in real time. “If you’re going back... just be careful. That city has a way of making you forget who you are. And he’ll forget you the minute it becomes convenient.”

I want to defend him. Say she’s wrong. But I’ve already started to forget who I was with him. That’s the problem.

We talk about other things after that. Family dinner. Our narcissist father. The exhausting performance of pretending to be okay when neither of us is.

And when I leave, she hugs me. Real, not performative.

“You’re stronger than you think, Ser,” she says. “Don’t let LA shrink you.”

Her words follow me all the way home.

Because maybe she’s not the villain. Maybe she’s just another girl who got burned by the same industry, the same type of men, the same impossible choices.

Just another daughter trying to survive Damon Rogers’ legacy.

And maybe the people closest to us aren’t villains or heroes. Maybe they’re just the ones with the most power to break our hearts.

Maybe that’s what family is.

And maybe that’s the problem.