Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100202 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“I don’t know how,” Sutton said, poking at one of the keys.
“I’m not sure I remember,” I admitted, but then my hands moved over the keys, and before I could warn my heart not to let it happen, the keys gave way under my fingers, and a song I’d had memorized since childhood drifted through the upright. A note here and there was off, but I played anyway, reaching across Sutton to strike the lower keys.
The G was hopelessly out of key.
“Moonlight Sonata” echoed through the house, filling the cavernous space of the chalet in a way nothing else could have, filling it with her, even though she wasn’t here. She’d never hear it again, never ask me to play it just one more time.
I stared at where the music would have been during the days she taught me, the ghost of her memory turning the pages as I played on, going through the motions with pure muscle memory. How many times had I played this for her after she’d taught me? Hundreds? Thousands?
The last chord sounded, reverberating through every bone in my body, and I sat there, letting it work its way through me, like it would magically make everything better.
“Mozart?” Sutton asked.
“Beethoven,” I answered.
“Jesus, Weston.” Reed’s voice snapped me out of whatever trance I’d been in, and I jerked my head toward him, yanking my fingers off the keys like they’d burned me. “I didn’t know you could still play.” He was at the foot of the staircase, disbelief etched into every line of his face.
I got up as quickly as I could, moving away from the bench. What the hell had come over me?
Ava and Callie stood by the dining room table, and while Ava smiled, Callie stared at me with wide eyes and something like awe shaping her features.
I ripped my eyes from hers, from the unspoken praise I didn’t deserve, and looked back at Reed. “The piano is out of tune.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Been a little busy saving this place from being sold and getting the whole expansion thing up and going. And besides, I don’t think anyone has touched it since you.”
“It’s her piano,” I bit out. “Have. It. Tuned.”
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t fight me on it. He just nodded.
“That was beautiful,” Callie said as I walked toward her. “I didn’t know you played piano.”
“I don’t.” The words came out clipped.
Her brow puckered, and I immediately felt a pang of guilt. This place brought out the absolute worst in me and she didn’t deserve it. The sooner we were out of here, the better.
Ava cleared her throat. “So, dinner is ready, if you guys want to eat.”
“Let’s get it over with,” I muttered.
We sat down to the table, Ava and Reed at one corner, and Callie on the end, with Sutton in between us. It was weird as hell seeing Reed in Dad’s seat, but whatever. This wasn’t my table anymore.
Ava apologized for not cooking, saying she’d had everything but the potatoes brought up from the resort.
“Trust me, after a couple Thanksgivings in Afghanistan, you don’t really care where the food comes from,” I said, heaping potatoes onto my plate and then helping Sutton.
I should have accepted Theo’s offer. No doubt he, Jeanine, the kids, Maria, and Scott were having a blast, not silently fighting for the self-control not to burn down the place they swore they’d never go to again.
Callie and Ava made small talk as we tucked in, and I did my best to focus on the food and include Sutton in the conversation whenever she chimed in. I’d been in forward operating bases with less tension, but that didn’t stop me from eating.
I kept my gaze away from the empty shelf, the one high up on the wall Dad had built to display Mom’s pottery. The one he’d ransacked, fracturing almost every piece in a drunken fit of…assholery.
“It’s been nice having the place to ourselves,” Ava said. “But they’re due back pretty soon, so we’ll have to decide if we’re going to live here or find somewhere on our own.”
Which meant pretty soon I’d have to deal with Dad. Fucking awesome. My throat tightened and another thread of the control I’d carefully constructed over the last decade frayed. I started tapping my foot beneath the table, needing some kind of outlet.
“It’s a beautiful house,” Callie said with a little sigh, her gaze taking it in with the kind of unbiased eye I’d never had.
“It’s our mother’s,” Reed said in explanation. “Pretty much everything about it is Mom.”
“Except all the stuff that isn’t.” I took a drink. “She would hate that couch.” Mom had always chosen comfort over style. Always. That thing looked like it slid right off the pages of a magazine.
Reed sighed. “You can hardly expect them to keep it as a mausoleum.”