Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“Follow you, now that’s intriguing.”
Her cheeks turned a bright red, no doubt sordid memories of the wicked things we did around the house, playing through her mind.
“No, we’re not going to the maze.” Her lip pulled up ever so slightly when she thought I was no longer looking; she’d allowed herself a smile.
I wanted to laugh, and the feeling was still foreign to me. But I was starting to learn when I was with Anya, I was prone to feelings I wasn’t used to. She had a way of bringing them out in me.
Together, we walked through the house, and I let her lead the way. When she stopped in front of my music room, I hesitated. Memories were flashing through my mind after what had once transpired in there. I’d almost brought down the fucking house last time.
“I’m going with no thank you.” I went to pull away.
“Just go in.” She tsked at me.
I grunted, not wanting to go back in and see all that destruction, but I followed her anyway. I was learning that as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I would probably follow her anywhere.
The space was now clean.
Still, I couldn’t understand why she’d want to come in here so soon after I lost my shit. Then again, if she was using the same logic as I had been, we would make a new memory.
This was me getting a taste of my own medicine, and it was sweet and daring yet bitter to swallow. “What are we doing here?” My mood was tainted from a guilty residue that clung, nevertheless.
Anya had a way of working herself inside you. Getting into the darkest parts and bravely throwing in light. She was an untamed fire, and I desired the feel of the heat.
Finally breaking our eye contact, I scanned the room.
Then I saw it. A brand-new Gibson custom guitar.
“What’s this?” Not the smartest question ever poised.
“You need me to tell you what a guitar is?”
I lifted my hands and scrubbed at my eyes. “That’s not what I meant. And you know it.”
“So, then what did you mean?”
“Goddammit, Anya! You know exactly what I meant. Why?”
“Why did I do this?”
Because I’d sworn never to pick up another instrument again after what I’d done to the last—in front of her.
She stepped up to me. Placing her hands on my chest, she rose up and placed a kiss on my lips. “I want you to play.”
“Why?”
“I know what it means to you . . .”
“And what is that?”
“It’s your escape. Your happiness. Your peace.”
That last word made me shudder, and no reply was worthy after that. I merely pulled her closer, sealing my mouth over hers and saying everything I wanted to say like this, showing her everything I wanted to express but couldn’t.
Our kiss was cut short when my phone rang in my pocket.
A sudden start as I recalled who I’d invited over for dinner. My sister, because having her meet Anya felt like the beginning of normality. The kind I’d not known I’d secretly craved and never believed possible.
I tucked my phone back into my pocket. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
“Here?”
“I invited my sister over.”
She paused, worrying her lip. “You want me to meet her?”
“I do.”
“She knows about me?” She looked nervous. “Why . . . after what my father did?”
“Because unlike me, she never judged you for the actions of your father. Come on. Let’s go, she’s waiting.”
My voice came out more forceful than I’d wanted. The truth was, the more we spoke about it, the longer I thought of my original plan to harm Anya, and the more I felt like an asshole. More than this, I felt remorse like it had been encased in my DNA.
“The guitar’s incredible,” I told her.
“Ridley might have helped.”
“I kind of guessed.” I tried to suppress a frown. “When did you two talk?”
“Yesterday.”
I took her hand in mine and pulled her down the hallway.
“I should change,” Anya said, looking nervous, “before I meet her.”
“You’re perfect,” I told her.
“You sure?”
“Very.” I arched a playful brow. “Never been surer in my life.”
We found Sofia in the parlor facing the vastness of the property behind the house—the view of the maze clear from here. Their green hedges neatly trimmed. The structure preserved after all these years yet it had taken on a new meaning.
To Sofia, the way her shoulders remained tight with tension as she stared off at it in a worrisome trance, it still represented her worst days. She’d run from the pain and I, well I’d run directly into it and made a home from the debris of our lives.
However, Sofia had handled it differently, doing everything in her power to never be here more than she had to. Only when necessary. When she turned eighteen, she’d insisted on getting an apartment in the city, and that was where she lived until she met the man who’d become her husband. She was happy now, and that had meant everything.