Chapter 110 Aitor
Aitor
It had only been two days without Aslan, and I already missed him.
How crazy was that?
But hearing his voice last night had done something to me. It had settled me, making the noise in my head go quiet for a while. The second he said prince, I swear my whole chest had gone warm. Pathetic, yeah, but I really loved when he called me that...
I smiled to myself as I stood in front of the hotel mirror, adjusting the collar of my shirt and checking that my violin case was packed properly. My life had really turned into some kind of emotional roller coaster. Here I was in Canada, hours away from one of the biggest performances I'd had so far, about to rehearse with the girl I’d loved since, like, forever. The one I'd been dreaming of playing with, being with… for years. And somehow, somehow, I had been able to redirect all of my thoughts and emotions to Aslan.
I let out a breath and sat on the edge of the bed for a second. At the beginning, I genuinely thought I would never be able to close that chapter with Linnea. How could I? She was beautiful, loved music as much as I did, knew my history, my pains, my dreams…
But the moment I chose to give Aslan a real chance, I had meant it.
I hadn’t allowed myself a single romantic thought that didn’t involve him. Not one. Because I was with him, because he mattered, because what we had was real.
And because the best way to stay faithful and honest was to not put yourself in the middle of the temptation.
Still, I wasn’t gonna lie to myself. There was something stressful—no, let’s call it what it was—I was getting pretty jealous knowing Aslan was right in the center of his. Back at Crownwell with Garrett. Alone.
Well, maybe not alone-alone. Olivia was there, the staff was there, but emotionally, yeah, pretty much alone. And Garrett needed help. Physical, definitely. Mental and emotional? Probably even more.
The jealousy tried to rise anyway, a sharp little pang in my chest that I hated the second I felt it, because what kind of selfish asshole worries about emotional tension when his best friend is stuck on campus with broken bones and a concussion?
I rubbed a hand over my face.
No.
I trusted Aslan. And maybe, against all logic, I trusted Garrett too. People would probably call me delusional for that, but Garrett was my brother. Messed up, chaotic, emotionally constipated, and half-feral, sure—but still my brother.
If I had ever truly believed he and Aslan had something real between them before I got involved, I never would have stepped in. I never would have touched this.
That thought stung more than I wanted to admit. Still, I pushed it down. I trusted them.
Now I needed to trust myself. Just like them, I was also human and still subject to temptation.
A knock on the hotel door broke through the thought.
I opened the door, and Linnea stood there in a tailored cream coat, dark hair falling over one shoulder, sheet music tucked under one arm.
“Morning,” she said softly.
For one second, I forgot how to breathe. Then I forced myself to smile back.
“Morning.”
She lifted the music slightly. “Rehearsal in thirty minutes downstairs. Don’t tell me you forgot.”
A laugh slipped out of me.
“I could never forget when you’re involved.”
The second the words left my mouth, something in my chest shifted.
Fuck, that totally sounded like flirting, but it was mostly muscle memory.
This was going to be a difficult day.
A day of pressure. A day of press. A day of cameras and rehearsals, and music. A day of old feelings.
A day that was absolutely going to test every emotion I thought I had under control.
Linnea and I met downstairs in one of the hotel’s private music lounges, a beautiful room tucked away from the main hall where the staff had set up a grand piano, music stands, and a small seating area by the fireplace. The whole place looked like something out of a Christmas movie—warm golden lights, garlands wrapped around the mantel, the scent of pine and cinnamon in the air, and snow drifting past the tall windows outside.
For a moment, as I set my violin case down and watched her sit at the piano, I almost forgot the tension.
It all felt strangely natural.
The second we started playing, it was like no time had passed at all. Like we had simply picked up where we had left off years ago. The harmonies came effortlessly, her fingers moving over the keys with the same elegance I had always admired, my violin slipping into the melody as if it had always belonged there.
It was dangerous how easy it felt.
She ran through the opening piece first, the one she would perform alone, and then we moved into the duet we would be joining together by the end of my performance.
The music flowed, and so did everything else—the conversation, the jokes, the laughter...
The little trips down memory lane that somehow kept finding us between one rehearsal and the next.
At some point, one of the hotel staff brought in hot cocoa, and we took a break by the fire, cups warming our hands as snow continued to fall outside.
For a second, it almost felt like we were kids again.
Then the inevitable question came.
She looked at me over the rim of her cup, her expression softer than before.
“So,” she said lightly, “you and Aslan seem pretty close.”
I smiled despite myself. “We are.”
Her eyes stayed on mine. “Is it pretty serious?”
I took a breath, careful with my words.
“We’re taking it slow,” I said honestly. “But he’s… he’s a wonderful guy.”
That much was true.
Something unreadable flickered across her face before she nodded slowly.
“I’m happy for you.”
I wasn’t entirely sure why that made something tighten in my chest. Trying to keep the conversation balanced, I lifted my cup and asked, as casually as I could, “What about you? Anyone in your life these days? Some brilliant musician sweeping you off your feet?”
She laughed softly and shook her head.
“You know me better than that.”
I smiled. “Still married to the piano?”
“Always. I haven't had time for anyone.”
Then something in her expression shifted.
“Otherwise, you know I would've…” she started but stopped before saying the wrong thing. But she didn’t need to. The silence that followed said enough.
There wasn't anyone else.
I felt my heartbeat kick harder against my ribs. For one suspended second, we just looked at each other, and I understood, or at least I thought I did.
If there were anyone.
If there were ever time.
If music weren't everything.
It would have been me.
I had to take a slow breath before forcing myself to break eye contact. Clearing my throat, I changed the subject before my head went anywhere dangerous.
“So,” I said, “how are your studies going?”
The smile returned to her face.
“Good,” she said, setting her cup down. “Really good, actually.”
Linnea had left Crownwell two years earlier to pursue elite conservatory training in Boston, splitting her time between private performance coaching and one of the most prestigious classical music academies in the state. She still came back often for board events, galas, and major academy performances because of her family’s ties to Crownwell.
“I’ve been getting some offers,” she said carefully.
That got my attention.
“What kind of offers?”
She looked toward the fire, choosing her words.
“Europe. New York. A possible mentorship in Vienna.” She smiled faintly. “Some opportunities that could change everything.”
My chest tightened. “That’s huge, Lin. Are you considering any?”
She looked back at me. “It depends.”
“On what?”
Her eyes held mine for just a second too long. “On whether there’s anything here worth staying for.”
What?
I frowned slightly.
“I don’t understand. Your career has always come first. What could possibly tie you to this place?”
I tried to make it sound casual, almost encouraging, like I was helping her think out loud. But looking back, it sounded a hell of a lot like I was handing her the opening. The chance to say it was me.
Linnea’s fingers tightened slightly around her cup.
“For a long time, I thought the answer was simple,” she said quietly. “Music first. Always.”
That sounded more like her. Then her expression softened.
“But being here now, with the people I care about… sharing moments like this…” Her eyes flicked to mine. “…it made me stop and wonder.”
I felt my heartbeat pick up. “Wonder what?”
She let out a slow breath, looking toward the fire for a second before speaking again.
“If I’ve had my priorities wrong from the start.”