A Light in the Dark Page 14

  I lowered myself to a stool and picked up my old Hummingbird acoustic. I didn’t want to go in there with them; the space felt too close this afternoon. Strumming a few chords, I began to sing a song I’d been working on over the last few weeks, something I’d written loosely inspired by my mixed feelings about Tom.

  In these lonely halls I hear an echo of the way things used to be

  In these empty rooms, the song of laughter is only a memory

  I close my eyes and drift away on wings of shattered glass

  But the darkness feeds on loneliness, on love that cannot last.

  So is this how it is then?

  Is this is how it has to be?

  Two souls divided for eternity?

  So this is how it happens?

  Now and forever?

  We go our separate ways

  Happily ever… never

  Happily ever never

  I stumble through the shadows calling out your name

  Through all the might haves and the could haves and the what if one days

  But it’s time for me to leave these four walls and move on

  Cuz they won’t guarantee tomorrow when today is already gone.

  I fall asleep to a single heartbeat

  I lie awake to the pain of the heartbreak

  I’ll try to move on now that you’re gone

  My strumming quieted as the emotions of the song washed over me. I barely croaked out the rest of it, repeating the last part of the chorus almost a cappella, my voice fading into silence.

  So this is how it has to be.

  From now until forever.

  We’ll go our separate ways

  Happily ever, happily ever… never.

  “Tish?” Tom’s quiet voice pulled me from my reverie. Both guys were standing on the other side of the window, arms crossed, watching me. The intercom crackled again. “Something new, huh?” Or maybe it was Tom’s voice that crackled. He was clearly moved by the song I’d just played, and knowing me the way he did, I figured he knew exactly what it was about. “You want to put that down?”

  My throat tightened and I just shook my head. I did love my friend, sometimes so much it hurt. And I wished I could believe I’d grow to love him the same way he loved me. I wished for it with every fiber of my being.

  “What’s it called?” Tom asked.

  “‘I’m not sure. ‘Happily Ever Never,’’” I said a little hesitantly. “Silly, I know. Maybe ‘Empty Rooms.’” I would not cry in front of them, so help me. I returned my acoustic to its case and joined them. “I think I need a break, guys.”

  Sebastian still hadn’t said a word, but I could see by the way his heavy brows were lowered that there was some serious pondering going on behind those eyes.

  Those pretty, pretty eyes.

  I crossed my arms over the fluttering in my stomach, took a deep steadying breath, and met his unwavering gaze. I needed to say something, to acknowledge the fallout of the day in some way. “Thanks for sticking it out with us, Sebastian. I’m glad—we’re glad—all the Marauders are glad to have you.”

  It was a mistake to look at him when I did. Something went soft and deep in his eyes as he watched me fumble for words. He, too, still had his arms crossed, and I sensed in him the same effort to hold something at bay.

  Tom cleared his throat, not rudely. “So, are we done for the day? Or do you want to come back later this evening since there’s no gig? I can call the guys, too, if you want to do a full band practice.”

  I shrugged and looked down at the toes of my Toms. “I’m not sure about me, Tom. You two are welcome to hang out and play without me, though. You know that.” I reached up and slid the bandanna off my head, ruffling my hair with the other hand. “Don’t leave before you get a key from me, though, okay?” I caught Sebastian’s eye quickly so he’d know I was talking to him.

  “Me? A key?” He obviously needed more clarification than that.

  “Yes. You. A key. Everyone in the band has a key to the studio. That way, you can just come in the side door if no one is home.” I nodded toward the far end of the studio where the exterior door was camouflaged by a life-sized Bigfoot poster. Sly was arguably the creature’s most devoted believer.

  “You don’t know me,” Sebastian stated flatly. It almost sounded like he was offended by my trust.

  It was my turn to furrow my brow at him. “I know you well enough, especially after today. And I’ve heard you play. You’re the one who wanted to join the band. If you’re going to steal our gear, you won’t get to be a poopdeck swabber, okay?” I turned to go, feeling unexpectedly saddened by the way he’d said those words. “Just come inside and find me before you leave. I’ll have your key ready.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I’d had ten keys made for the studio. Each of the band members had one, my dad had one, and Jordan had one, although I wasn’t sure why. Ani had one, mainly because she was my best friend and it just seemed like she should. Mom kept hers in a box of spare keys in the kitchen junk drawer, and there was one more in my jewelry box upstairs in my room, just in case someone lost theirs. Although we’d probably change the locks if anyone actually did lose a key, rather than leave the possibility open that someone had access to the thousands of dollars’ worth of equipment we’d worked so hard to collect over the years. So the final key was more of a memento to me, and the thought of giving it to Sebastian made me a little sad. But there was really no help for it.

  Not unless I made Tom give up his key. And that didn’t feel right at all.

  I could always ask Jordan for his key.

  “Jordan?” I called out as I crossed the living room and headed toward the stairs. “Mom? Dad? Anyone home?”

  Jordan strode out of his room, his hair messy like he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly, his eyes tired. “I’m here. Ben and Marilyn came over with the kids and they all headed off to the botanical garden to see Mom’s latest project again, and to walk off some of Gina’s energy. Apparently, she ate a whole bag of red licorice by herself today, and between the red dye and the sugar, she was bouncing off the walls. They didn’t like my duct tape suggestion.”

  “Your duct tape suggestion?” I eyed him dubiously from where I stood at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Yeah. Remember when we taped you to the wall? Easiest babysitting job in the world.” He ruffled the hair on top of my head as he passed. “I offered to demonstrate with you, but Ben gave me the evil eye when I started explaining how it worked. He’s afraid Gina might try it on Little Ben so he told me to nip it. The guy’s gone all domesticated on us, Squeak.”

  He dropped into an easy chair and glanced at his phone before setting it on the end table beside him.

  “Maybe you should find yourself a nice girl and settle down, too,” I suggested, thinking of how content Ben seemed since he’d met and married Marilyn. “Maybe being domesticated isn’t so bad.”

  “Yeah, right.” He took another peek at his phone where it lay face up, but the screen remained dark.

  “Why not?” I asked. “Why not a girlfriend, at least?” I was half-joking, half-serious, because I was also half-worried about Jordan. Not only did he look like he didn’t get enough sleep a lot these days, but the lack of a girlfriend seemed to be a legit concern for someone so likable, someone with so much to offer.

  “Don’t need a girlfriend. And since I don’t need one, I can wait until the right one comes along.” He picked up his phone, swiped his finger across the screen, stared at it for a few moments, and then set it back down again.

  “Well, just make sure you don’t let the right one pass you up while you’re playing bachelor party.” I jutted my chin toward his phone as he reached for it yet again. “Expecting a phone call?” I teased.

  He frowned up at me. “Nope,” he responded rather abruptly. “I’m just keeping track of the time. I’m going to The Falconer with some of the drama students later tonight. Don’t want to be late.”

  I could
frown with the best of them. “Um, Jordan? It’s what? Four o’clock? I think you can relax a little. You have time.” A thought popped into my head. “Oh! Unless…” I drew the word out. “Perhaps one of these drama students might just happen to be a girl? Are you hiding a secret romance, big brother?” I lunged for his phone, the table only a few steps from where I stood. He was too quick, though, and my hand wrapped around his just as he snatched the device up.

  I wasn’t about to let go. And it had nothing to do with who might be calling him. I didn’t care if he had a date with a thousand women tonight; this was all about sibling rivalry.

  Based on his reaction, however, there was clearly something on his phone that I could hold over his head. If I could get it away from him first.

  I launched myself in a half-cannonball-half-spread-eagle across Jordan’s lap, forcing a pained grunt out of him. I held on doggedly with both hands, laughter bubbling up inside me at this too-rough game that had gone on in our house as long as I could remember. Especially when Mom wasn’t around to step in. With his free hand, he started tickling me in the ribs, and I squealed like a stuck pig, as close to his ear as I could get, bringing one knee up and thrusting it into his chest.

  Jordan’s maniacal taunt, “Pipsqueak, Pipsqueak, Pipsqueak,” spurred me on to a higher frenzy, and just as I pushed against him hard with my knee, he jerked his hand away from my grasp, and I went tumbling to the floor. He dropped to his knees, straddling me, the phone abandoned on the couch. Grabbing my wrists, he crossed them over my chest and pinned them there with one hand, the other, he raised high in a claw.

  I closed my eyes and screamed bloody murder, knowing what was coming next. Holding me down, he would tickle me until I peed myself, threw up, or told him whatever he wanted to hear, usually something along the lines of how handsome and charming he was and how stupid I was.

  Suddenly, I was free.

  My eyes flew open to see Sebastian bodily lifting Jordan off me, his hands clenched in the fabric of the shirt at my brother’s neck. Sebastian’s eyes were wild with something that looked pretty lethal.

  “Sebastian! Stop! What are you doing?” I scrambled to my feet, my blood pounding in my ears. I threw myself against him, my mind registering the darkening shade of Jordan’s face. “Stop! Let go of him!”

  Sebastian turned at the sound of my voice, his gaze honing in on me, his own face blanched and tight. And suddenly, his expression went blank and he released his hold on Jordan’s shirt. He brought both hands up in a universal sign of surrender, and looked from Jordan, who stood bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for air, to me. I scuttled around to stand directly in front of him, between him and Jordan, both palms on Sebastian’s chest. My hands rose and fell rapidly with his harsh breathing.

  “Dude,” Jordan ground out from behind me, his voice raspy. “She’s my sister. I wasn’t going to hurt her.”

  Sebastian lowered his hands to his sides, his eyes searching my face. For what? Did he think I’d tell him something different?

  “We were just wrestling, Sebastian.” I slowly withdrew my hands and stepped back. “He wasn’t hurting me.”

  Jordan hacked several times, still trying to catch his breath. I was pretty sure Sebastian was safe, so I raced into the kitchen to get each of them a glass of water, my mind reeling with questions. I held each glass under the water dispenser on the fridge. “He was trying to tickle me until I wet myself,” I called over my shoulder. Right. That didn’t sound weird or wrong at all, did it? “Or until I told him how studly he is.” I hurried back to them, a glass in each hand, giving one to Jordan first, then to Sebastian. “He wasn’t hurting me,” I assured him once more as Jordan took a long, loud gulp of the water behind me.

  Sebastian’s shoulders relaxed visibly. His face went from pale to red. I turned away, acutely aware of how embarrassed he must be.

  Jordan lowered himself to one of the easy chairs in the room. He drained his glass and set it on the floor by his feet.

  “Do you need more?” I asked, not sure what to do next.

  “No.” Jordan lifted his eyes to Sebastian, who still stood, one arm dangling loosely at his side, the other hand clutching the glass I’d given him so tightly his knuckles were turning white. “Sit, Sebastian.” It was Jordan’s instructor voice, the one he used to bring order back to a set-design project-turned-paint fight. “Now.”

  Sebastian sat down on one end of the sofa, but stayed perched near the edge of the cushion.

  I followed suit at the other end.

  Covertly, I studied him with my head tilted just enough so it wasn’t obvious I was looking. Tucking my hands under my thighs, I hunched forward a little, rocking slightly in my nervousness. I had no idea how to respond to any of this, but figured there was more going on here than the obvious. Could this day get any worse?

  Sebastian leaned forward, too, elbows on his knees, holding his glass with both hands out in front of him. As tightly as he gripped it, though, I could still see it vibrating, the surface of the water rippling. His hands were shaking now, and I couldn’t help myself. I reached out and rested my fingers on his forearm in an attempt to reassure him. But I felt the muscles bunch and tighten beneath my touch.

  He pulled away quickly, set the glass on the coffee table in front of him, and stood.

  “Excuse me,” he said, his voice sounding almost as strangled as Jordan’s had a few moments ago. Then he crossed to the front door and jerked it open. He glanced once more over his shoulder, his eyes dark as shadows.

  I rose, but didn’t follow, completely at a loss.

  Sebastian pulled the door closed softly behind him.

  ***

  “Let him go, Tish,” Jordan ordered. “More likely than not, he’s embarrassed. Worst case scenario, he might be a little ticked at us.”

  “But—but what happened? I mean, what was that all about?” I was still in a bit of shock over Sebastian’s actions. For a few moments, I’d been really scared of what he meant to do. And when he stormed out like that, pulling the door closed so firmly behind him, he’d made it clear he wasn’t happy.

  Jordan sighed, leaned forward, and braced his elbows on his knees, the same position Sebastian had been in only moments before. He rubbed at his throat thoughtfully with one hand, and I wondered if it hurt. My brother must have seen my concern, because he waved dismissively. “It’s all right; he didn’t hurt me. Just surprised me.” He chuckled softly, not looking at me. “And made it hard to breathe for a minute.”

  “But why? I mean, I don’t get it.” I felt like I was missing something. Jordan seemed so calm in light of what had just happened, but I was starting to panic a little.

  “Tish. Stop. He was trying to protect you.”

  “Protect me? You were tickling me, Jordan.”

  “And you were screaming. Like a wild animal.”

  “So?”

  “Like I was hurting you.”

  “Right out here in the open?” I waved a hand at the floor where we’d been making a royal rumpus a few minutes ago. “You’re my brother.”

  “And you’re not stupid, Squeak. Think about it. Put yourself in a guy’s head. You walk into a room to hear a girl screaming at the top of her lungs and a dude—brother, father, boyfriend, stranger—on top of her, holding her down.” Jordan shrugged. “In our family, that’s a normal, everyday scenario. And in our house, it usually just means you’ve pushed one of us too far and we’re going to tickle you, put mud—or worse—in your hair, or shove a cricket down your shirt.”

  I shuddered at the last thought. Mud in my hair? No biggie. But I did not appreciate crickets; they were too unpredictable. And my brothers knew and loved that fact.

  Jordan continued. “Maybe in his house, a scene like that isn’t so common. Or it means something else altogether.”

  “You think he really thought you were hurting me?” The notion that we’d scared him enough to react the way he did unsettled me in a whole new way.

  Jordan shrugge
d. “I know I would have been on the alert if I’d walked in on that scene anywhere else.” He eyed me, his expression serious. “Granted, I may not have interfered so quickly; might’ve asked questions first. But I can understand him reacting the way he did if he thought I was actually assaulting you. What do you know about this guy? About his personal life?”

  I shook my head slowly, wishing now that I’d taken at least one of the opportunities handed me in the last two weeks to find out more. “Not much. Just that he was in my class before he joined the band. But now, according to you, that’s not even the actual truth. With Tom here, I haven’t had the chance to ask Sebastian anything. What did you find out through school?”

  “Right. Well, he was never registered at Mid-U, but the way Jeffries explained it to us, the class was a stipulation. I guess a mentor of his made some kind of a deal between Jeffries and your Mr. Hyde, something to do with one of his guitars. I don’t remember all the details.” My brother rubbed absentmindedly at his throat as he spoke, but he didn’t seem in pain. “Again, I think it was all pretty above board, so if you want the details, just ask him. But other than that, he has a full time job at Stodders Tack and Feed over off Birch Avenue. Been there for almost five years now.”

  “That would indicate that he’s stable, at any rate.” I released a slightly hysterical snicker at my unintentional pun. “Get it? Stable? Tack and Feed?” I poked Jordan in the shoulder.

  “Funny, yeah.” He didn’t laugh. “But apparently a good work ethic,” Jordan added. “He’s a store manager.”

  And that would explain the calloused hands. The lean muscles. The strength to haul Jordan completely off his feet. Sure, Jordan wasn’t a big guy, especially compared to Sebastian, but he wasn’t a lightweight, either.

  “We only posted the flier in Mr. Hyde’s class because we didn’t want a bunch of crazies showing up here at the house to audition.” I grimaced at the irony of the situation. Sebastian’s behavior was a little on the crazy side of things, in my opinion. On the other hand, what Jordan had said about appearances did make sense, but his reaction still seemed kind of extreme to me, considering how casually he’d called us all out this morning. In one set of circumstances, he saw in stark clarity. In this instance, if Jordan was right, Sebastian had been completely blind to the truth.