Page 151 of Specters & Spotlights

Behind the bridge, hidden from the house, someone was huddled inside the taped star.

A woman, shaking, one hand pressed flat to the stage as if she did not trust the floor to stay beneath her.

Ellen.

Alive.

Elise’s knees nearly gave out.

Jen was already moving, headset abandoned, sliding into the shadows to reach her. Steve shifted a piece of scenery by an inch, just enough to shield them from the audience. Lark made a broken sound from the wing. Cici’s voice cut through the phone, no longer chanting, only whooping with joy.

Above the pentagram, hovering in rain-bright haze, was Kevin.

Whole.

Glorious.

A little singed around the edges.

Elise forgot the audience. Forgot the bridge. Forgot the song still waiting to be finished.

Kevin’s face softened when he saw her.

For one fragile second, all the jokes fell away.

He looked frightened—relieved.

Proud.

Then, because he was Kevin, he gathered himself into full spectral dignity, lifted his chin, and shouted, “Sing, Elise!”

A laugh broke through her before she could stop it.

It came out half-sob, half-breath.

Graham’s hand tightened at her waist.

Elise looked at him.

It’s done.

We did it.

His smile broke open, bright and disbelieving, and entirely his.

The orchestra swelled beneath them, rich and insistent, dragging the show toward its final notes.

So they finished it.

Rain-soaked. Shaking. Alive.

They sang the final refrain together, voices braided into something stronger than either of them alone, rising into the rafters like birds finally freed.

The last chord rose.

Her knees wavered.

Graham caught her smoothly, arm firm around her waist, making it look like blocking. Making it look like romance. Making it true.