Chapter 15 Willow
The soft notes of the piano fill the house on Wednesday afternoon.
I’ve been working on a new song. No lyrics yet, but I’m in love with the melody.
I didn’t set out to write something new today.
Not with Ellie coming home any minute, so I’ll need to switch to nanny mode.
I started with something familiar. A tune I’ve played in almost every set—just to get my fingers moving.
But somewhere along the way, the rhythm shifted. Like it’s taken on a life of its own.
I like it.
I pause for a moment to write down the notes the way they spilled out of me, grinning to myself as I try to come up with a name for this rendition.
But a prickle on the back of my neck tells me I’m no longer alone.
I smile without turning. “Hey, Slippers, when’d you get home?”
She pads across the room. “That was so pretty.”
I scrunch my nose since I don’t think I was going for pretty. “Thanks.” I slide over on the bench. “Want to try?”
She nods and settles beside me, her little hands hovering over the keys like she’s ready to pounce. But she doesn’t, she waits for me.
“Go ahead. It doesn’t bite if you don’t know the notes. Just press some keys and listen.”
Her eyes widen like I’ve just told her it’s OK to break some rules, but then light up with excitement. Ellie taps tentatively on one key, then a few others, speed picking up as if she’d just discovered a new power.
“It’s like . . . different voices.”
“Talking to each other,” I agree. “You don’t have to know what they’re saying to stay and listen.” I nudge her.
Her grin fades. “Grandma used to play.”
“I know. This was hers, wasn’t it?”
Ellie eyes it and nods.
I bite the corner of my lip. “Did she tell you she was going to teach you?”
She shrugs a shoulder. “That was a long time ago.”
My chest tightens and I flip through the pages toward the front of my songbook I’d brought with me. There was no way I was leaving it in storage with all the rest of my things. I turn to the first song I learned and wink. “This one’s special. And pretty.”
Resting my hands over the keys, I let them fall into the pattern that would never change. It comes as natural as breathing.
“This is the one that got me playing when I was a little older than you.”
Something in her expression hits me hard. Bright warmth lighting up her face as she listens to the notes. When my throat tightens with the threat of tears, I stop, releasing a sharp breath.
She stares up at me. “Was that the end?”
I shake my head, watching her. The glow in her eyes pulled me right back to that afternoon at Grandma’s. “No. I just . . . I remember the first time I heard it.”
She smiles. “And you liked it?”
I smooth her hair. “It was the prettiest thing I’d ever heard.” Straightening, I motion for her to mirror my posture and the position of my hands.
She does, bouncing into place.
“Let’s start. Copy what I do on your side. It’ll sound a little different, but that’s OK.” I press the first few keys a little sharper than usual, in slow succession.
Ellie waits a beat like she’s repeating it in her head, then tries on her side.
With each new note, her face is less twisted, and more like she’s discovering secrets to a superpower.
“That’s it.” My smile is wide and I can tell this girl grew up with an ear for music.
I can’t wait to hear her sing.
I’m about to move on to the second verse when I hear gentle footsteps—or as gentle as those cowboy boots can sound on wooden floorboards—behind us. I glance back, catching him lingering in the archway against the wall.
His jaw is soft, eyes warm. The usual rough lines of his face mostly faded.
I turn back almost too quickly. As if staring too long would ruin it.
It’s not often I catch him . . . unguarded and almost gentle.
A part of me wants to hold on to that look.
To the fullness it left in my chest. Because I know it won’t last.
There’s a soft knock on my bedroom door after my shower. Ellie’s been asleep for over an hour. I slip on a short cotton bathrobe over my pajamas and pull it open.
Even though I know it’s him on the other side of the door, my heart does some kind of somersault as I pull it open.
He’s standing there like James Dean in his black T-shirt and faded jeans.
His signature get-up, from what I can tell.
The dim light shadows him, catching the perfect cut of biceps I have to keep reminding myself to tear my eyes from.
Not that it matters . . . because Dallas’s deep blue eyes are raking over me, slowly. Sweeping over my damp hair, flushed cheeks, bare legs.
“Hey,” he starts on a gravelly breath.
I open my mouth but he cuts me off.
“The engagement announcement went out a few hours ago.”
My heart rate kicks up. “That was . . . quick.”
Even though Noah gave us until today, Dallas and I called him Tuesday morning together to confirm our agreement. And that Ellie’s on board—with the truth. After he reamed into us for taking such a “dumb risk,” he moved forward with his plans to take Glenda on in family court.
Then, not so gently, instructed us to move forward with our part—the public announcements. The bigger the better.
Dallas rubs the back of his neck. “It’s easy when you got the pros on it. Ginger drafted the ranch newsletter and Rose handled the social media stuff.”
I hold my breath. “You’re worried about something.” Is he worried about lying to so many people? I haven’t even considered what he’s risking if people find out.
“No. I just wanted to let you know things might be moving pretty fast from here—things I’m not even sure I can keep up with. I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed by it.”
I tilt my head. “Do you?”
He shakes his head, looking off to the side for a brief moment before meeting my eyes. “Not yet.”
I grin at him. “Let me know when you do, I’ll remind you.” It’s my way of telling him I know how important this is. And I’m not backing down. We’re in this together . . . for Ellie.
He nods, his eyes warmer than usual but not entirely convinced as he watches me like he doesn’t know if he should trust me—or if he could do this without me.
I hold his gaze because there’s more in them.
“You taught her your grandmother’s song.”
My lips part because he remembered the melody. But I don’t call attention to it. “She’s as eager as I was to learn it.”
He considers that for a moment. “I like that.” He takes a step inside my bedroom and freezes, head dropping like he’s crossed some invisible line. Then with one last sweep over me with his eyes, he takes a step back. “Thank you for that. Good night, Willow.”