by Lee Strauss

#1 Sun & Moon is FREE!

ROMANCE. REGRET. MUSIC. FORGIVENESS. HOT EUROPEAN ROCK STAR

She can’t remember. He can’t forget.

Eva Baumann is invisible. Sebastian Weiss is famous. In a perfect world Eva would be fearless and Sebastian would be guiltless.
It’s not a perfect world.

Singer songwriter Eva Baumann has a celebrity crush on Sebastian Weiss. He’s perfect to love because there was no way they could ever be a thing. She’s a nobody. He’s a heartthrob. Hiding an infatuation is easy for her because, since her accident, hiding is what she did best.

Sebastian Weiss’s band climbed the charts, seemingly overnight, and he’s finally living the dream. All he has to do is write enough songs to produce a second album. The bad news is he hasn’t written a new song in over a year.

Sebastian stumbles into the Blue Note Pub in time to hear Eva Baumann perform a hauntingly beautiful song. Could this girl be the answer to defeating his writer’s block?

Eva and Sebastian begin a complicated writing relationship that leads to more. But Sebastian has a secret that will devastate them both.

**Includes MP3 links to four original songs produced by Norm Strauss and performed by Canadian music artists Trisha Robins and Bryan Steeksma.

The Minstrel Series is a collection of contemporary romance novels set in the singer/songwriter world. The books are companion novels, with shared settings and characters, but each is a complete stand-alone story with a HEA (happily ever after) and no cliffhangers!

The Minstrel Series books can be read in any order, but are best enjoyed in sequence. #1 Sun & Moon (Katja and Micah), #2 Flesh & Bone (Eva and Sebastian), #3 Heart & Soul (Gabriele and Callum) – coming soon!

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  And here, for your reading pleasure, is our free romance excerpt:

The Scars They See

Eva

Gabriele had dared her to do this. “Just walk in, sign your name, and play a song for heaven’s sake.” It was easy for her to say. Eva Baumann’s sister didn’t understand what it was like to be afraid. What it was like to be invisible. Gabriele oozed confidence, tall and lithe like a runway model, lighting up every room she entered. She was pretty, talented, smart.

And not handicapped.

Eva eyed the graffiti-marred entrance of the Blue Note Pub and watched as other musicians and-patrons strolled into the darkened room. Music pumping from the sound system escaped into the narrow corridor of four-story stone buildings every time the heavy wooden door opened and closed. Eva carefully set down her guitar case and rested her hand over her chest willing her heartbeat to slow. The muscle pulsed erratically, and her stomach wanted to dry heave.

Eva gripped her cane with white knuckles. She’d learned to master the uneven sidewalks with careful steps, but the cobblestones were still a nemesis, especially in colder months like March. The rubber knob on the tip of her cane had to center on a stone, otherwise she could lose her balance and fall. It was necessary to wait for a break in traffic or to continue to the corner for a walk light before daring to cross the street.

She took a deep breath. She could do this. This was just an irrational fear—not real. Nothing bad would happen to her in that room. It was filled with people who loved music as much as she did. It was loud and crowded and dark, and no one would expect her to talk. When they called her name, she’d focus on the small stage, blocking out everyone in the room out until she safely stepped up. Then she’d just close her eyes and pretend she was at the street church playing to the people who came for the soup they provided.

She could do this.

A cold wind blew hair across Eva’s face and she snapped to attention just as the little green man flashed on to indicate it was safe to walk. She lumbered across with a guitar in her left hand and her cane in her right. The weight of her instrument pulled her shoulders forward, her back arching slightly under her winter jacket. She caught her reflection in a store window and frowned. She looked like a crazy, old lady, not a nineteen-year-old girl.

Eva tucked her cane under her left armpit and reached for the door. It swung open sharply, a patron had exited at the same moment, and she was shoved against the wall, nearly losing her balance.

“Excuse me,” the guy said. He held the door open, waiting for her to go in. She wanted to turn around and head straight home, but the guy’s eyes stayed on her, waiting. The cold air whooshed inside.

It would be impolite not to pass through. “Thank you,” she said softly. She leaned on her cane and entered. She’d been to the Blue Note before. Gabriele and her British boyfriend Lennon Smith had dragged her out one night, so she knew what to expect. There was a bar to the right and table seating to the left. A poster on the wall read: “If you want to chat with your pals while the band is playing, take your conversation outside.” The air smelled of beer and cigarette smoke clinging to damp wool jackets. At the back of the midsized room was a small stage lit by two lights hanging from the ceiling.

Her stomach churned, and once again she questioned herself. Why had she come? What did she have to prove? Why did she care so much what Gabriele thought? She stared back at the door.

“Hello, ma Cherie. Would you like to sign your name?”

The gruff yet friendly voice stopped Eva before she could leave. She knew the manager, Herr Maurice Leduc, by reputation, but had never spoken to him before. “I don’t know,” she answered.

“Well—” His eyes darted to the guitar in her hand. “I just thought since you lugged that thing in with you.” He pushed the sign-up sheet closer.

Eva didn’t have the heart to deny the man. She took the pen and scribbled her name.

“Wonderful,” Herr Leduc said with a sincere grin that filled a round face. “I look forward to hearing you play…” he glanced down at his sheet, “Eva Baumann.”

The room consisted of a lot of wood. Tables, chairs, benches and floors—all darkly stained, old wood. Even the ceiling had rough, open wood beams. Eva claimed a nearby empty chair and breathed in and out, long and slow. She was here. She’d done it. Wait until she told Gabriele. Wouldn’t she be surprised?

A server arrived, and Eva ordered a cola. The other people who shared the long table gave her sideways glances at her childish drink and cheered each other as they lifted their beer glasses.

Herr Leduc walked on stage and welcomed everyone. He called the first act, a girl with long, golden hair, he introduced as Katja Stoltz.

Eva listened intently impressed with the girl’s talent and the way she took over the stage like she owned it. That was what Eva needed to do. Own it.

The girl finished her song, and after much-deserved applause, she joined her friends at a table across the room. A guy in his early twenties with a peacock tattoo along one arm stood to give Katja Stoltz a hug. He had messy, dark brown hair and bristles on his face, like he hadn’t shaven in a few days. He laughed and high-fived her before sitting and draping the peacock around a thin girl with spiky hair.

A shiver ran up Eva’s back. She recognized that guy. Last summer, when she was playing guitar for the homeless, many of them had raised their hands to God in praise. The outside metal blinds had been raised, they always were when the church was open, and a group of guys had stopped to watch from across the street. They began to laugh and then threw their arms in the air, mocking the people worshiping inside.

That was the first time Eva had seen that peacock tattoo, and she’d never forget the laughing face of the handsome boy who went with it.

Her short-lived confidence shriveled at the thought of being the guy’s next target. Oh, why did she come? She’d leave right now if she thought she could do it without making a scene. The room had filled, and there was no way she could slip out unnoticed with her guitar and her cane.

She sipped her cola and kept her eyes focused on each act as it was called. Every time Herr Leduc stepped to the mic to call a name, Eva’s heart filled with nervous dread and emptied with a flush of relief when she didn’t hear hers.

“Sebastian Weiss,” Herr Leduc said.

The guy with the peacock tattoo hooted, shifted out from behind his table and grabbed his guitar.

So that was his name.

He hopped onto the stage and strapped on a guitar with an over-confidence Eva envied. She wanted him to be terrible so that she could add self-delusion to his other obvious traits of conceit and insensitivity, but unfortunately he wasn’t. His voice was smooth and strong, and he had great range.

She also happened to notice the flex in his biceps that poked out of the short sleeves of his dark T-shirt and how his jeans fit nicely on slender hips.

He finished his song and fisted the air like he just won a boxing match. The audience went crazy. Eva couldn’t help but join in the applause. Something about Sebastian was electric. His aura and competence, his popularity—she couldn’t peel her eyes off him. His arm returned to its position around the girl beside him who hadn’t smiled once. Such a contrast to Sebastian who couldn’t stop smiling. He seemed quite taken by the pixie girl and kissed her excitedly on the cheek.

“Eva Baumann.”

What? Eva had been so busy watching the table of cool people, she hadn’t been paying attention.

Herr Leduc’s accented German bellowed again. “Eva Baumann.”

Eva’s heart stopped. Then raced. Her hands broke out into a sweat, and she blinked back the tears welling up behind her eyes, which were opened far too wide. Her head prickled hotly, and she swallowed hard. She could sense the attention of the room, necks craning, everyone searching, waiting for the next act to stand.

Herr Leduc stared at her, and all she could do was shake her head. He gave her a gracious nod and called the next name.

A girl with short, dark hair bounced out of her seat, and within seconds Eva was forgotten. She took advantage of the swirl of commotion that occurred between acts, grabbing her guitar and cane, and limped to the entrance.

It was a terrible mistake to come, she thought as she hobbled down the crusty street. She kept her head bowed low against the cold, and gripped her guitar case and her cane. If she’d had a third hand, she’d swipe at the bitter tear that slid down her cheek.

One Year Later

Sebastian Weiss wrapped the oversized pillow around his ears in a vain effort to block out the pounding on his locked hotel room door. His head throbbed and his mouth felt like sandpaper. He released a slow, low groan. “Go away!”

“Sebastian!” Karl called from the hallway. “The bus is waiting. Get your ass in gear!”

Sebastian tossed the silky pillow across the room and worked the sleep out of his eyes. The bright light that seeped in from the crack in the curtains was like a torch to his eyeballs. He blindly grasped for the hotel phone on the nightstand and somehow managed to punch the numbers for room service.

“Orange juice and coffee. A whole carton of juice and a full carafe of coffee.” He’d learned he had to be specific. The first time they’d arrived with a tiny glass and cup of each, and he had to suffer needlessly for another twenty minutes before the service returned with what he needed.

He popped a couple pills and downed them with the stale water in a glass by the phone. He gave them two minutes to kick in then stumbled to the shower. The coffee and orange juice would be waiting in the hall when he was finished.

He dug the last clean T-shirt out of his suitcase and pulled on the jeans he’d worn for the last two days. His room service order waited for him in the hall, and he pushed it inside. He downed the juice in several gulps, breaking once or twice to breathe. This was followed by a swig of coffee; he poured the rest into his travel mug.

At this point in his routine, Sebastian started to feel normal again. Like a computer reboot. He’d come alive on the bus, and by the time they hit the next city, he would be high again—on adrenaline and other things—ramping up for their next concert.

Dirk, their manager, was in the lobby checking out the band when Sebastian arrived. He raised a brow over black plastic-rimmed glasses. “Just in time,” he said. “The others are already on the bus.”

Sebastian pushed his sunglasses on his face. The brightness of the sun streaming through the windows shot pain to the back of his head. He winced as he exited the hotel and quickly handed his bags over to Florian, the bus driver.

“Next stop, Hamburg!” Florian shouted, and Sebastian winced again as the driver’s booming voice made his head feel like someone was trying to rip it off. He climbed on board and took a seat near the front. Karl spotted him and moved up to the empty seat behind him.

“Three more dates, Sebastian, and this tour’s over. Time flies.”

Sebastian nodded. “I still can’t believe we’re actually doing this.” Touring with his band, Hollow Fellows, had been a dream for so long that he’d lost heart in the pursuit. Funny how things tended to take off once you’d given up the chase.

Karl raked a hand through long, stringy hair. “The gig in Hamburg is being televised! A year ago, I never would’ve imagined this could happen. But here we are, on our own tour bus, giggin’ in front of the cameras. On freakin’ TV!” He patted Sebastian on the shoulder. “We’re doing it, Seb. We’re actually doing it!”

Hollow Fellows’ hit song, “What Drives Me,” had catapulted up the German radio charts over the past half year surprising everyone. It was the song he’d co-written with Katja Stoltz-Sturm. That was a lucky impromptu decision on his part, agreeing to do the songwriting session with Katja. Both of them were unknowns then. Sebastian rubbed his eyes and sighed. He hadn’t written a song since.

Maybe when the tour ended, and he saw Yvonne again… maybe she’d inspire him.

A nagging truth stirred his gut. He wanted to blame life on the road and the alcohol and the ongoing fight he and Yvonne seemed to be engaged in for his writer’s block. But he knew the truth.

He chugged back a sip of coffee and shook his head forcing himself to push those old, black memories away. Nothing good could come from dredging that up.

Nothing good.

A Shadow and an Echo

Eva ran a finger along a thick, pink scar that zipped up her right leg from just above her knee to the top of her thigh. Normally, she never paid it any attention. It was just a part of who she was, who she had been for the last five years. But now, as she got ready for bed, she stood in front of the mirror and examined it.

It was ugly.

She stopped asking God why this had happened to her long ago. There was no satisfying answer. No answer at all, actually.

The bedroom door flew open and Eva quickly tugged her nightdress down as Gabriele breezed into the room they shared. Gabriele kept promising to move out, but she still hadn’t. She had to finish her studies at the university first. Eva felt guilty for wishing her sister gone.

Instead of her usual nightshirt, Gabriele stepped into a tiny little blue and white dress.

“Where are you going?” Eva asked as she watched Gabriele struggle with the zipper at the back.

“Can you get this?”

Eva stood and waited for Gabriele to scoot over to her. It was just faster that way, and Gabriele was always in a hurry. It was a habit they’d formed since the accident. Gabriele always came to Eva.

“Lennon’s taking me out for a late dinner. It’s our one year anniversary!”

“Already?” Or should she say, Is that all? Lennon had been hanging around so much the last few months, he’d become part of the furnishings.

“Yes, and we’re going to a really fancy place in the Altstadt.” Gabriele floated to the spot in front of the mirror Eva had just vacated and applied hair product to her short bleach-blond hair. Her natural color was the same as Eva’s, an ordinary brown, and up until a year ago, just before Lennon, Eva recalled, she wore it long, too.

Gabriele started in on her makeup attacking green eyes (another trait she shared with Eva) with several layers of mascara, and then her full lips with a tube of red. She smacked them together and said with a little squeal, “I think he wants to talk about marriage.”

“What? Really?” Yay! Gabriele just got that much closer to leaving home. “That’s terrific!”

“Yeah, I’m really nervous.” Gabriele selected a pair of white, patent leather stilettos and slipped them on. She spread her arms wide and faced Eva. “What do you think?”

“You’re beautiful.” It was the truth. Gabriele had a tall, waif-like, fashion model look and the exuberance to go with it. Eva could barely believe they were sisters. Nobody could, really. Apart from their identical green eyes, they were nothing alike.

Eva put on her robe, collected her cane and followed Gabriele out into the living room where their parents joined in with her sister’s excitement.

“You look wonderful,” their mama said.

Papa sat on the chair facing the TV, and his eyes narrowed as he stared at Gabriele. “Isn’t that dress a little short?”

Gabriele laughed. “Oh, Papa. You’re so old-fashioned.” She bent down and kissed him on the cheek, and Papa’s faux frown broke into a smile.

The door ringer buzzed, and Gabriele danced over to let Lennon in. They could hear his footsteps as he made his way to the second floor. He barely had a chance to tap on the door of the flat when Gabriele flung it open.

Lennon wore fashionable jeans and a form-fitting button-down shirt. He wore his dark hair combed back behind his ears, and he had a slight shadow on his chin. He was average height standing eye to eye with Gabriele when she wore high heels. Eva always considered Lennon to be handsome, the only kind of guy that would fit beside her sister, but tonight he was really handsome. And he’d brought her flowers.

Gabriele accepted them, and then they spent long moments taking each other in, their eyes bright with affection. Eva couldn’t keep from staring. What must it be like to be in love like that?

“Wow.” Lennon shook his head subtly like he couldn’t believe his good fortune. “You look gorgeous.”

Gabriele blushed and giggled. Papa cleared his throat.

“Herr Baumann,” Lennon said, looking up. “Good evening. And to you, too, Frau Baumann.”

They engaged in polite banter while Gabriele put her flowers in a vase. Then the pretty couple left, and it was like a vacuum had sucked the sunshine out of the room.

“So, Eva,” Papa finally said. “You can do the music for the lunch service on Sunday?”

Eva sighed. “I always do it. Why can’t Gabriele?” Her sister was also an accomplished guitar player and a great singer. Unfortunately. For a while, Eva thought she might have one thing that set her apart from the sister who had everything, but soon after Eva started playing the guitar seriously, Gabriele decided she would, too, and quickly demonstrated that they had both inherited musical genes from their mother’s side.

“Ah, Schatz,” Papa started. “You know Gabriele.”

That was all he said. Gabriele had made it clear that, though she respected their parents’ call into the ministry, she had no interest in the street church. Mama could play the keyboard and sing like an angel, but she spent her time overseeing the kitchen, so the task of providing music had landed on Eva. There were others who could do it, and sometimes Eva asked for help, but the truth was, she didn’t really mind. It just bothered her that Gabriele had so much, and yet so little was required of her.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

Papa grunted as he lifted himself from his chair. “I’m going to review my sermon notes,” he said as he left for his office. Mama had already retreated to her room where she liked to spend the evenings reading. Eva turned on the TV, flipped through the channels, then yelped.

Sebastian Weiss was on TV! She pulled her robe tighter and leaned forward. He was with his band, Hollow Fellows, playing live in Hamburg.

Eva’s heart rattled in her chest as the camera zoomed in on Sebastian’s face. His eyes were closed and he belted out the words with such emotion and intensity. Then he opened them and stared into the camera. It was like his warm hazel eyes were looking right at her!

She couldn’t believe she’d once sat in the same room as him. A year ago at the Blue Note before he was famous. She’d been fascinated with him ever since, nursing a schoolgirl-type crush that only she and God knew about, and she had followed his rise to stardom with dedication.

He lived here, in the Neustadt area of Dresden. They were practically neighbors! It’d become a habit for her to stay alert to a possible Sebastian Weiss sighting when he was off tour. She hadn’t seen him since that fateful open mic night, though she had spotted the girl he was with once. Eva wondered if they were still together.

Not that it mattered. In real life Eva didn’t exist. She was a shadow. An echo.

But in her dreams she was… well, she was Gabriele. And Lennon was Sebastian Weiss.

Falling Too Deeply

The Hamburg gig was a hit, and Hollow Fellows’ first televised concert sent the station’s ratings soaring. They partied long into the night afterward, celebrating. Sebastian indulged in one too many beers, but he stayed clear of the women. This was one of the many things he and Yvonne argued over. She was convinced his fame would go to his head and he’d cheat on her. Successful guys were renowned for justifying themselves, rationalizing their behavior—rules didn’t apply to them. That was what Yvonne believed, but Sebastian didn’t think she was being fair.

He didn’t know how to reassure her except to do exactly what he promised and keep clear of the girls. It was a tough job these days. Groupies, usually young, pretty girls, were coming out of the woodwork. Fortunately, the other guys in the band pulled up the slack. Karl, and their drummer Markus had a pretty girl on each arm all night.

Now, after allowing for a late sleep in, they gathered for brunch in the hotel restaurant. They had to request a private room at the back because of those very groupies. There was a collection of them waiting in the hotel lobby ready to pounce.

Sebastian sat across from Karl who sat beside Markus and Dirk. Florian held his grey head in two hands and moaned.

“One too many last night?” Sebastian chided.

“I didn’t drink anything,” Florian replied with a dry voice. “Didn’t feel good yesterday either.”

“You don’t look that good,” Karl added. “A little green around the gills.”

“Guys, I don’t think I can drive, and I can’t eat.” Florian stood to leave, holding an arm around his belly. “I gotta get back to my room.”

“Ah man,” Markus said. “Do you think he has the flu?”

Karl grunted. “He better not get the rest of us sick.”

Dirk had ordered for the band earlier and a small buffet of breakfast and lunch food was wheeled in. Buns, croissants, a collection of meats and cheeses, toast, cereal, fruit and yogurt along with coffee and a selection of juices.

Now that Sebastian’s hangover had ebbed a little, his appetite kicked in and he filled his plate.

“Someone else has to drive the bus now,” Dirk said after a few bites. “Any takers?”

Karl shook his head. “Not me. I plan on sleeping all the way back to Dresden.”

“Sebastian?” Dirk asked.

Sebastian pushed back a wave of panic, plastered a phony smile on his face and shook his head. “I would, but I don’t drive.”

Dirk scoffed. “You don’t drive? You mean you didn’t get your license?”

Sebastian shrugged. “Never got around to it.”

That wasn’t true. His parents had coughed up the money to pay for the expensive lessons, and he had a barely pubescent photo on a German license to prove it.

“Fine,” Dirk said. He turned to Markus. “I guess that means you and I have to do it. I’ll do the first half.”

They finished eating, leaving a big mess in their wake, and snuck out the back way to the lobby to escape the groupies who had yet to leave. This was part of Sebastian’s new life he didn’t like. He missed being able to walk about freely without photographers snapping photos and girls throwing themselves at him. It was worse when they were on tour. He worried about going home and hoped that the Neustadt hadn’t changed as much as he had.

Their covert maneuver didn’t work this time. The elevator was in the process of slowly returning from the top floor, and they had to wait precious minutes for it to arrive at ground level. Before the doors opened, one of the groupies spotted them. A chorus of calls followed.

“Sebastian!”

“Karl, Markus!”

“Hollow Fellows!”

Before the guys could escape, one of the girls jumped Sebastian and kissed him on the mouth. A flash from a camera blinded him. He knew he’d just gotten photographed in a compromising position and could only hope that Yvonne wouldn’t see it. He pushed the girl off him as gently and forcibly as he could. It was bad press to be rude to fans.

He autographed a handful of CDs and one bare, feminine shoulder before the elevator doors opened and Dirk dragged him inside.

Karl laughed out loud. “I love being famous!” Sebastian high-fived him and smiled back. His best friend was having the time of his life. Sebastian just wished he could say the same thing.

He slept on the bus with just a few interruptions when the bus stopped for petrol and bathroom breaks. He found sleeping on the bus easier than sleeping alone in a dark, quiet room. The rumble lulled him to sleep and there was just enough light and motion to keep him from falling too deeply. It was in deep sleep that the bad dreams came.

Sebastian worried about Yvonne. Though she was cute, she wasn’t sweet by nature. He didn’t mind that. He was just grateful that she had stood by him through all the crap he went through at home when his parents disowned him for pursuing his foolish dream. She was there for him when they weren’t. She was his first real girlfriend and he loved her.

He wasn’t so sure she loved him in return. Not really. Lately, she’d grown distant, her demeanor cooler than usual.

They often argued, bickered really, not bonafide fighting. It was their way of communicating. Right? They’d fight and then have great make-up sex. He could do this thing as long as she supported him. He’d bring her on the next tour. He’d sleep better if she were by his side.

Sebastian had wanted to bring her this time, but the guys had insisted—no girlfriends. But, he was the leader of this band, right? He would put his foot down next time. Yvonne would be with him snuggling through the long hours on the road. Then fame wouldn’t be so bad. The unwanted attention from groupies would wane if they saw he already had a girl on his arm.

It would be okay so long as Yvonne would agree to come. She was fuming mad when he told her she couldn’t come on this one. It would be just like her to refuse his offer when he invited her next time. Dig her heels in stubbornly. She was like that. Spiteful, sometimes. He’d have to woo her over again, but he was a pro at that.

It was dark when they pulled into Dresden. Sebastian texted Yvonne. Home in fifteen. Meet me at my place?

She was there when the bus dropped him off in front of his building, and he breathed out in relief. The worries he’d had concerning her were unmerited. He dropped his guitar case and suitcase by his feet and swooped her up, twirling her in a circle.

“Oh, I missed you, babe!”

She smiled a rare smile. “Missed you too, Basti.”

He kissed her lips, and pressed her thin, little body against his. He was home, and she was here.

Everything would be fine.

Scars that Define

Summer was Eva’s favorite season. Not just because it was warm and sunny most of the time, which of course she did like, but because it was safe. Or at least, safer. The walkways and cobblestone streets were dry and easy to grip with the rubber end of her cane. She left the house in the winter only when necessary because of the ice and snow, so summer was a time of freedom for Eva as well. She moved slowly, but she was mobile and she often visited Luther Square to sit on the wooden benches and stare up at the Gothic steeple of the ancient church.

Or, if she felt braver and stronger, she’d walk to the end of Alaunestrasse toward the park on the other side of Bischofsweg. Crossing the street there was hazardous and she had to walk an extra couple blocks to get to the crosswalk with stoplights, but it was worth it. Especially on a warm, floral-scented day like today.

The park was full of people: families with young children playing on the playground, teens and young adults gathering in groups to smoke and drink beer and colas and laugh, cyclists cutting through them on the bike paths.

Eva wistfully watched one girl pass by on her bike. That used to be her, always on her bike, loving how the wind blew her hair and how her lungs expanded taking in the fresh air. How her leg muscles burned in a way that made her feel strong and athletic.

But that was before.

Eva spotted Gabriele and Lennon, the happy soon-to-be-married couple sitting on a blanket with a few of their friends and she watched them from a distance. Gabriele sat cross-legged with her guitar propped over her knees and began to play. Soon a crowd gathered to listen. She feigned embarrassment and put the guitar back in its case.

It was a typical Gabriele move. She was a big tease, and she basked in the praise that followed her “retirement” until she reluctantly agreed to play again. Eva found herself drawing nearer. Despite her desire to avoid being entranced by her sister’s charisma, she couldn’t help getting caught in her snare. There was something about Gabriele that was magnetic, irresistible.

Lennon watched her with unabashed admiration as she played. He practically threw himself at her when she finished her next song, kissing her in a way that made Eva blush. Gabriele’s laughter rang out as she managed to dislodge herself, and in that moment she spotted Eva staring from outside the circle.

“Eva,” she called and lifted the guitar. “Your turn!” She turned to her friends. “My sister is really talented. The true star of the family.”

She gushed and waved Eva over. Eva was stunned. Had her sister been drinking? Eva couldn’t play in front of these people. She’d melt into a smelly puddle under their watchful, judgmental eyes. She couldn’t compete with her sister and Gabriele knew this. She just wanted to reaffirm that she was the better, prettier, more talented sister.

Why did Gabriele have to continually embarrass her like this? Eva spun on her heels and limped away. Gabriele had just ruined another perfect day.

“Eva!” Her sister chased after her and grabbed hold of Eva’s elbow forcing her to stop. “What’s the matter with you?”

Eva glared at her. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Do what? Play in front of people? You do it all the time at the kitchen.”

“That’s different.”

“How so?”

“They don’t care if you’re good. Most of them can’t even tell if you’re good. It’s…”

“Safe?” Gabriele challenged.

“Yeah. It’s safe. Is there something wrong with that?”

“Eva, I know the accident changed things for you. It changed you. But you can’t let your scars define you. You still have to live.”

Eva blinked back tears and shook her head. “You just don’t know what it’s like.”

“Not personally, no. But I live it every day through you.” Her voice softened, “I just want you to be happy. I want you to be fearless, again.”

Eva forced a smile. She’d forgive her sister. That was a given. She could never stay angry with Gabriele. “Thanks. I have to go now.”

She heard Gabriele huff out her frustration behind her as she turned back to her friends.

I want you to be fearless again.

Eva would like that, too. She just didn’t see how that was possible.