Chapter 24 Jade
Ifollow Jake out of the dining room, but I’m not paying attention.
My mind’s still back with Spencer. He told me he would be okay, but I still hate the idea of leaving him with Randall.
Spencer calls me a demon, but if I’m a demon, Randall is the fucking devil, and something about this just doesn’t sit right with me.
“Jade.” Jake steps in front of me, waving his hand in front of my face to get my attention. It works, and I snap back to the here and now. Jake’s chest fills my vision for a moment before he steps back, and I look around, only to realize I’m standing in a room I haven’t been in before.
How the hell did we end up here?
Jake smiles at me when I look up at him. “There you are. Thought I lost you for a second there,” he says with a chuckle that sounds more nervous than amused.
Strange, this almost feels like a totally different person than the Jake I’d met before.
“Sorry,” I say out of habit, though I’m not really sure what I’m apologizing for.
Was it for spacing out or for judging him too harshly?
I don’t know, and I don’t let myself linger on the thought.
I have more important things to worry about right now, like the reason I willingly came to this dinner in the first place.
“It’s fine.” He waves off my apology. “My father has that effect on a lot of people. I’m just happy this night is almost over. Your guys have been blowing up my phone for updates,” he says, turning away from me and continuing into the large room, leaving me to follow.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him they aren’t my guys, but before I can, my eyes take in the space around me, leaving me speechless.
Various instruments fill the entire room and line most of the walls; some are hung on the wall, others on shelves or stands, and a huge black piano sits in the center.
I probably couldn’t name half the instruments here, but that doesn’t stop the shock I feel at seeing them.
They’re beautiful, and I can’t stop myself from looking over each one as I make my way around the room.
Who knew there were so many instruments?
Some are made of metal, while others are made of wood; some have strings, and others have buttons and holes, but each one is amazing in its own way.
While the shiny metal ones are pretty, I find myself drawn more to the dark wooden ones.
I stop before a small, dark wooden instrument with four strings.
It’s one of the smaller instruments so far, but it’s no less cared for.
In fact, the wood is so well polished that I feel I could almost see my reflection in it.
There are other makes of this exact instrument, but this one hangs alone on the wall and is a much darker color.
“That was my mother's violin.” Jake's voice pulls my attention from the violin and over to him, where he stands by the piano, watching me.
It’s strange. The Jake I knew before that night at Hopper’s has all but vanished. He was still kind of an ass when the guys took him to talk to Kratos, but not to me, and right now…
Well, if you’d told me last week that I was going to spend some one-on-one time with him, I would have told you I’d rather stab myself again. Not to mention the fact that his gaze is giving me goosebumps of a very different kind right now.
“It’s beautiful.”
I might know nothing about instruments, but I know it’s the best one in this room, and given the fact that we're in Randall’s house, I assume that also makes it the best of the best.
He nods. “Yes, it is. It was one of her most prized possessions, other than Amanda and me,” he says, a small, sad smile pulling at his lips.
“Or so she always said. I’m not so sure about that, though.
” He shrugs, and while his words say one thing, the smile on his face and his easygoing nature say the opposite.
I don’t think he questions his mother's love even the slightest bit.
“Was?” I ask because I know nothing about Jake or Amanda other than what I’ve learned from being around them.
Which isn’t much considering I’ve tried to steer clear of them.
But while I still think Amanda is a spoiled brat who could use being taken down a few notches, I’m starting to think I might’ve had the wrong idea about Jake.
I still think he’s an ass, but I think he might want people to think that.
Just as I use a mask, he might as well.
“She died a few years ago,” he says, his voice low, and I can see the pain on his face.
I turn back to look at the violin. “I’m sorry,” I tell him because I am, but I also don’t know what else to say. While I've never had parents to mourn, I know how hard losing Ashlynn was. Nothing anyone said could’ve helped me deal with that pain.
“Have you ever played?” he asks after a moment, and I can’t help the laugh that falls from my lips. It sounds hollow even to me.
“No. Before today, I’d never even seen one. Hell, I didn’t even know what it was until you told me.”
“Do you want to hear what it sounds like?” he asks as he steps up beside me, and I turn to look at him. Excitement dances in his eyes, changing his whole appearance.
“You can play it?” I ask, trying to keep the sense of wonder from my voice. I don’t think I do very well, though, when he shoots me a smirk.
I’m grateful when he turns his attention back to the instruments, though I continue to watch him, unable to look away.
“I can play every instrument in this room,” he says, throwing his arms wide as if to gesture to the room as a whole. “Some better than others, but like I said, the violin was my mother's favorite, so I often played with her.”
“What’s your favorite?” I ask him, and I don’t know why I care, but some part of me wants to know. With so many instruments, I feel like he has to like one above the others.
He pauses, dropping his arms back to his sides before his gaze falls back to me.
“Nobody’s ever asked me that before.” He’s quiet for a moment, as if considering my words while we stand and watch each other.
“Probably the piano or the drums.” He says, pointing to each in turn.
While I knew what the piano was, I didn’t know the drums.
I take a moment to look them over from where I stand.
The drums aren’t like any of the other instruments in the room.
They appear chaotic, with pieces of varying sizes, shapes, and colors, all mixed together with a variety of metals.
The differences between the two instruments he just pointed out are vast, but as I look between him and the instruments, I find they’re somehow fitting.
Jake walks over and pulls the violin off the wall.
The care in his movement is apparent as he handles it.
He moves back to the center of the room near the piano, and I stay glued to the floor as he places the base under his chin and lets it sit along the length of his outstretched arm.
He pulls the little accessory across the strings, and the sound that comes from the small instrument fills the room.
I have no idea what he’s playing. It could be something he’s just made up, a famous piece, or just a bunch of nothing, but the sound is hauntingly beautiful.
I could close my eyes and get lost in it as the sound carries around the room, bouncing off every wall and moving through me.
I would’ve if I weren’t so entranced by the look on his face.
I’d never seen him look so relaxed.
Granted, I hadn’t seen much of him outside of school, but he always seemed on edge, even when he was smiling. Not that I could blame him; knowing who his father is puts a lot into perspective. Now he stands before me as if there were nothing in the whole world that could bother him.
He’s almost a different person.
I don’t know how long he plays before he stops, but it feels like coming out of a trance. He slowly removes the violin from under his chin, his shoulders sagging slightly before he opens his eyes and looks back up at me.
A smile curves his lips up ever so slightly. It has since the first note he played, trapping me. The violin is a beautiful instrument, but the music he made with it was breathtaking.
He holds my gaze briefly before he ducks his head and moves back to the wall to replace the instrument, seeming almost unsure.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get carried away,” he says with his back to me, sounding sheepish.
“No, it was beautiful. I could listen to you play all day,” I assure him, the words coming out without much thought. The moment I say them aloud, I realize how embarrassing they sound and feel the telltale sign of heat rising in my cheeks.
He turns slowly to face me once the violin is secure on the wall, and it’s suddenly as if neither of us knows what to say or do. We stand just a handful of feet apart. I watch him, and he watches me, but neither of us speaks. My mind whirls for something to say, but nothing makes it past my lips.
A throat clearing causes us both to startle as we turn to look toward the door where the sound came from.
An older man stands in the doorway, his hands clasped behind his back.
Wrinkles line his face, and age has grayed his hair, but he wears a warm smile.
Judging by his outfit, I’d say he’s one of the many people who work for Randall.
“Master Jacob, you have a guest at the door,” he says, nodding in my direction, which I return with a polite smile.
Jake nods. “Thank you, Samson. I’ll be right down,” he tells the older man with a smile of his own. Samson turns and disappears back down the hall as if he had never been there.
Jake is coming towards me when I look back up. I straighten, lifting my chin on instinct. We might have had a moment where we got along, but that doesn’t change anything, and Jake is still very much an unknown in my eyes.