Bree’s eyes were glued on the door as she impatiently waited for Trent’s arrival. Since she’d woken up, they’d transferred her out of the ICU and given her a larger, private room, which she was thankful for because the intensive care units were so small and scary. She wasn’t sure how long she’d have to stay in the hospital, but if she was going to be there, she wanted it to be with her family in such a way that they would be comfortable. This new room had a couch and a few cozy chairs, as well as a wide window she could see out of from her bed. It was a hundred times better than her ICU room, but until Trent got there, none of that would matter.

The strings felt odd in her hand. The familiar feel of them, like an extension of herself as her fingers glided along them, was gone, replaced with numbness, a constant dull ache, and the occasional sharp pain that radiated from a few inches below her elbow all the way to the tips of her fingers. Determined to get her fingers in the right position to play a C chord, one of the easiest, Bree Matthews gritted her teeth and tried again. This time, her first finger screamed at her while her second finger may as well have been detached from her body. It just wasn’t working.Frustrated, Bree let out a sigh and set her guitar down on the floor next to her, it’s neck resting

Her fingers were sore from practicing so long, the strings cutting into the tender flesh of her fingertips, but that didn’t prevent Bree from making dinner. Most of the time since the fire, they ordered out, or Trent would make something when he got home, but since she’d done so well practicing earlier, her spirits had lifted. It wasn’t anything fancy, but her mother had taught her to make a mean eggplant parmesan. She’d just popped it in the oven to bake when she heard Trent’s keys in the lock.Setting the timer, Bree went off to greet him, a smile on her face. “Hey, babe!” she called, anticipation of showing him later how well she&rsqu

Sitting in one of her favorite restaurants, sipping a glass of wine, Bree waited for Trent to meet her. He’d texted a few minutes ago to let her know he was running just a few minutes behind, thanks to traffic, but she was so glad they’d decided to meet right after work, rather than having him go all the way home and then come back downtown. She was so excited to tell him about the tour, she couldn’t help but smile. After rehearsal, she’d gone home and put on one of her favorite dresses, a red number Trent really liked. Her hair was up in a twist with loose curls framing her face, and she’d put on some diamond earrings Trent had gotten her a few months ago. She knew she looked great, and with everything finally going her way again, she felt great, too.

Picking out an outfit to wear for her big show was harder than Bree would’ve thought. Even after hiring a personal stylist to take her shopping a week or so before the show, she still wasn’t sure what to wear. It made sense to her now why so many famous people had a team of people that dressed them, did their makeup, and always had them looking on point. Standing in front of her full-length mirror in the bedroom, Bree wasn’t sure if she looked edgy in the new outfit she’d put on or just out-of-sorts.“That’s a different outfit,” Trent remarked, coming into the room and looking her over before he headed to the closet to start getting read