Chapter 94
Chapter ninety-four
Christianna
Walking back to the house, I change direction and go looking for Meg. She’s in the studio.
There’s no music playing. She’s dancing to Erik’s piece filtering in from the other room.
I lean against the back wall and watch, completely still. I’ve always loved watching her move. I danced once. I was passable. Meg is impeccable. You don’t watch her so much as disappear into her, following the way she flows with the music.
I leave her there and drift into the sunroom. Erik is at the piano. This piece is new. His phone is propped beside the keys, recording.
Good idea. This room needs that. Something so you don’t lose a moment when inspiration hits.
I sit beside him on the bench and lean my head gently against his shoulder. He doesn’t pause, but the music shifts, softening, turning almost into a lullaby.
“I love this,” I murmur.
He starts to sing. By the time the last line fades, I realize tears are sliding down my face.
His arm comes around my shoulders, and I bury my face in his shirt.
“I wrote it at Angel’s grave,” he says quietly.
I nod, pressing closer. “It’s perfect.”
Another arm wraps around my waist, warm and steady, filling the last space on the bench.
“I realized something tonight,” I say softly. “Standing there, looking at the towel. This is nothing compared to what I’ve already survived.”
I lift my head, wiping at my face. “I lost everything that mattered once. I’m done hiding from the rest of my life. I want to fight for what I want now.”