“Hey, Aud,” a voice behind me interrupted my train of thought. When I turned around, Greg stood in the doorway, his hands stuffed into his skinny-jean pockets.

“Greg,” I said. His presence was a complete surprise.

“Can I?” He nodded toward the threshold.

“Yeah, of course, come on in,” I said, glancing at Kristen. She just shrugged.

“I came to apologize for being such a jerk.” Greg was slow, almost cautious, like he was trying not to wake a baby. Then he stumbled over a can of paint sitting on the floor, and I laughed.

“Sorry.” I held my fist in front of my mouth.

“I totally planned that,” he said, nodding to the paint can. He chuckled before continuing. “I’m sorry for everything, Aud. I’m sorry I was such a dick about Aleksandr. I’m sorry I’ve been too stubborn to accept your apology. I’m sorry I kicked you out of the band.”

Despite acting like a jealous jerk, Greg was a genuine, positive guy. Until his jealousy of Aleksandr reared its ugly head, he’d never said anything hurtful about anyone when I was around him, and he always wanted to help me get better. In that regard, I knew his apologies were sincere, and I appreciated it, but hearing Aleksandr’s name reminded me of the heartache I’d been trying to suppress for almost two months.

He continued, “I’ve been a total dick, and I don’t—”

“Everything About You” by Ugly Kid Joe filled the air. I looked around, creeped out by whatever weird-ass theater ghost would choose that particular one-hit wonder to spook us. I didn’t realize it was a ringtone until Greg reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone.

“Who has that song as their ringtone?” Kristen asked.

“Who even knows that song anymore?” Jason agreed.

“It’s not,” Greg started to defend himself, and then shook his head. “I gotta get this.” He turned his back to me. “Yeah?”

I glanced over my shoulder at Jason and Kristen, lifting my palms and shrugging my shoulders in total confusion. Kristen rolled her eyes and shook her head, her disgust for Greg’s disrespectful actions apparent. Jason just shrugged.

Suddenly Greg spun around and held his phone out to me. “It’s for you.”

“Aaron?” I asked. What did he want to razz me about now?

Greg didn’t answer. He just thrust the phone at me. When I looked at the screen expecting to see the name or number of the caller, I realized it was a video call. A girl I’d never seen in my life smiled brightly from Greg’s smartphone screen.

“Hi, Auden!” she said. Then her head turned sideways for a split second and I realized she’d adjusted the phone. It looked as if she was standing among a large crowd of people. A guitar strummed in the background.

“Hey.” I returned the girl an über-excited fake smile, before lifting my questioning eyes to Greg.

“Just watch. You might learn some stage presence.” He winked before I could pout.

I’d gotten better with stage presence over the last three months. He’d know I’d been practicing if he would’ve let me back in the band earlier.

The video scanned the crowd quickly before settling on a stage. While trying my hardest to get a glimpse of the band, the phone swung back around to the girl, and I huffed.

“I’m Greg’s sister, by the way.” She still had the perma-grin on her face.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, but I was unsure if she caught it because she swung the phone back toward the stage.

Greg’s sister’s shaky camera skills had my stomach on edge. Puking was a possibility if she didn’t quit whipping the phone around.

“Hello, Charlotte!” the lead singer yelled. Though his head wasn’t in the camera’s view, I could make out his outfit. A long-sleeved black shirt hugged every curve of his muscular upper body, and narrowed into the waistband of classic rock and roll leather pants that fit him just right. He looked familiar, and I wondered if I’d previously seen this band in concert. Why couldn’t I figure out who it was? If only Greg’s sister could fix the angle and zoom in on the singer’s face a little.

“I fucked up with my girl, Charlotte. And I had to do something big to get her back because she is my sun, and I revolve around her,” the singer told the crowd. I still couldn’t see him, but I recognized the thick Slavic accent that made my legs sway like a palm tree in a hurricane.

Aleksandr appeared larger and larger as he approached the spot where Greg’s sister was standing. He knelt down and grabbed the phone. His gorgeous face filled the screen as he spoke directly to me, “I love you, Audushka. You’re all I have.”

He must have passed the phone back to Greg’s sister because I heard a shrill shriek of, “Ohmygod! Ohmygod!”

The next image I caught was of my hot Russian hockey god’s leather-clad backside retreating from the edge of the stage toward the microphone. Just then, the opening riffs and “Whooooo ooo ooo” of “You’re All I Have” by Snow Patrol roared through the phone’s speaker.

Unable to fully wrap my head around what was going on, I kept my eyes glued to the screen. Kristen and Jason had moved closer, pressing against my back as they peered over my shoulder to catch the show on the phone’s tiny screen.

When the first verse started, Aleksandr was singing. And it wasn’t karaoke-style singing, either. He was backed by a full band behind him.

And my man looked damn sexy behind the microphone. Though he told me he’d never sung karaoke before, his confident demeanor drew the same response as it did on the ice, a hoard of fans screaming and bouncing at his feet.

“That looks like Wreckage,” Kristen said.

I shook my head. “He said ‘Hello, Charlotte.’ So he must be at a bar there.”

“Why would a bar in Charlotte have a Central State poster on their wall?” Kristen pointed to the screen. She was right. The bold maroon text on the poster-sized Central State men’s basketball schedule loomed behind Aleksandr. How had I not noticed that he was standing on the same stage I’d performed on for almost three months?

I lifted my eyes, expecting to see Greg, but he wasn’t there. I hadn’t even noticed his exit.

Hiding behind a coward’s mantra of nothing (and no one) is permanent, I’d run away from countless important people in my twenty years on earth. Supportive friends who’d saved my sanity through elementary and high school, amazing teammates on Central State’s soccer team, and even a few nice guys who may have wanted something more than I’d ever dared to give.

Though giving up on those relationships may have been a mistake, I never looked back with regret.

Only one relationship would haunt me for eternity if I ran away.

So I sprinted toward it, pushing through the front door of the Central Club and racing to Wreckage. I elbowed my way from the back of the room to the stage, refusing to stop for anyone, even the bouncer. I knew he wouldn’t mind, because he knew me, but I’d still buy him a couple of lottery tickets tomorrow as an apology gesture.

Greg’s sister was at the front, still holding up the phone, mesmerized by Aleksandr’s performance. I wondered if she even noticed the screen that had just been filled with my face had turned black as I clutched Greg’s phone in my hand.

Aleksandr stood behind the microphone belting out the song as if he performed every night. Granted, he didn’t have the greatest vocals, but he wasn’t bad, either. Behind him was my band. Josh on the drums, Aaron at the bass, and Greg on his guitar.

I was dumbstruck. I couldn’t believe my ex-boyfriend was on stage with my band singing a song about finally realizing I was all he had.

How it was possible to feel my heart beating so ferociously, yet still wonder if I was breathing? The two had to go hand in hand, right? As Aleksandr sang, I felt the words seep into me like penetrating lotion on cracked and weathered skin.

Aleksandr took a step back from the microphone after he’d finished the last words of the song. I climbed onto the stage and launched myself into his arms. He caught me easily, squeezing my waist in his vise grip. When our mouths collided, the comforting taste of cloves mingled with the salty tears cascading down my cheeks and onto my lips.