Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Was there one that stood out?” I asked as I stroked his skin with my thumbs.
A deep breath rattled through Seth’s lungs and I felt him relax marginally. “When I was eight. We always opened presents on Christmas eve. My parents gave me this really elaborate racetrack with all these loops and stuff but they said it was too complicated to set up that night and I could play with it the next day. I was so excited that I couldn’t sleep, so I got up and came down here to try and put it together myself but I didn’t know how. Trace came down because he heard me messing around. He…he helped me set it up and we played on it for the rest of the night.” Seth managed a smile. “It was one of the best nights of my life.”
I smiled. “He was a good big brother, wasn’t he?”
Seth nodded.
And I realized it was true. Even though I hadn’t agreed with the choices Trace had made after his parents were killed and I hadn’t liked how he’d teased Seth over his crush on me when he was a kid, he’d loved Seth and he’d looked out for him.
“What else?” I asked as I gently turned Seth away from the couch.
“The piano,” Seth said with a nod at the baby grand piano near the window.
“Is that where your Mom taught you to play?”
Another nod. “But I liked listening to her play more than anything else.”
“I remember,” I said. “She was amazing. But you know what I remember about this room?”
“What?” Seth asked shakily.
“You at that piano with your mom. You did a duet…it was incredible.”
Seth nodded with a smile. “Handel’s Passacaglia. I kept messing up.”
“I couldn’t tell,” I said as I led Seth from the room. But as much as I would have liked to take him right out the front door, I knew he wasn’t done doing what he needed to do. We ended up in the kitchen which wasn’t as torn up.
“What about in here?”
“Mom cooking,” he said. “She was terrible at it,” he added.
I laughed. “I thought I was the only one who noticed.”
Seth shook his head. “None of us could bear to tell her because she always tried so hard. Dad actually bribed Bonita – that was our housekeeper – to cook some dishes in secret for us so we could hide them in the freezer and pop them into the microwave after Mom went to bed.”
“She never found out?” I said. We were nearing the dining room so I knew we’d be in view of the living room again.
“No. We had a close call once. Dad and I were standing over the sink eating some chicken casserole Bonita had made and when we heard Mom coming, he threw the food out the window. He had to get up early the next morning to clean it up because it landed on her rose bushes.”
I chuckled as we reached the dining room and was pleased when Seth started speaking on his own. “The night I told them I thought I was gay,” Seth said with a nod at the table. “I thought they’d try to convince me that I was confused because Trace was gay and I was just trying to be like him but they didn’t. They were amazing.”
I’d kept Seth moving as he spoke and was glad when he only spared the bloody mess on the floor a passing glance. We reached the front parlor and began going up the stairs. Seth kept up the stories on his own as we made our way to the second floor. The bedrooms were all a mess but he seemed to ignore all of them, his own included, and continued to talk about the various memories from his childhood. It wasn’t until we reached his parents’ room that he shut down again and I knew why as soon as I saw the blood-stained bed. It was the room his mother had been raped in…the rape he and his father had been forced to listen to.
I didn’t bother asking Seth to try to remember a memory from the room because I could tell he was drained.
“Did Trace ever tell you that your mom threatened me?”
That got Seth’s attention. “What? When?”
I led Seth back down the stairs. “I think it was the fourth time Trace and I came to visit…Christmas. She told me she thought I was a nice boy but if I hurt her son, I’d be sorry.”
“No she didn’t,” Seth scoffed.
“She did,” I said with a laugh. “Then she gave me a hug and asked me if I wanted pie.”
“Oh God, not her apple pie.”
I nodded. “Yep. I had to eat it right in front of her. I only got out of a second piece because you asked me to help you finish decorating the tree.”