Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 124135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Mama led me to what was once my papa’s office. I smiled on seeing my electric piano in the corner. I absently noticed the lilac color of the walls and the carpet at the end of the bed. But I was moving to my piano and sitting on its stool before I’d even blinked.
I lifted the lid and started playing. I felt all the tension leave me as the music filled the room. I didn’t even know what I was playing at first; I just played whatever was in my heart. My fingers were clumsy, the agility in them fading. But I kept playing. I wouldn’t stop until I had no choice.
As the last note faded out, I smiled. Opening my eyes, I noticed my mama standing in the doorway. “What was that? It was beautiful.”
I felt my cheeks burning. “It was something Cromwell wrote.” I had memorized the few bars he had composed in the coffee house. It was my new favorite.
“Cromwell composed that?”
“He’s a genius, Mama. And I’m not just saying that or exaggerating. He can pretty much play any instrument. It’s why he’s at Jefferson. Lewis invited him and gave him a scholarship. He was something of a child prodigy. Some say he’s a modern-day Mozart.”
“Then now I see it.” She joined me on the stool.
“What?”
“Why you’ve fallen for him.” Her arm linked in mine. “The way you love music. You were always going to find someone who loves it too.”
A smile crept on my lips, but it quickly fell. “He’s kinda damaged, Mama. He has all this talent, but he doesn’t like to play or compose. Something holds him back.”
“Then maybe you should help him find the love he’s lost.”
I blew out a breath. “I can’t believe you’re approving of him.” I thought of his tattoos and piercings, his permanently dour expression. “He’s not exactly the typical boy next door most mamas want for their baby girl.”
“No, he’s not.” She bumped my arm. “But the way he was fighting for you, didn’t want to leave you, tells me everything I need to know. Obstacles in life sometimes make you look at the world in ways you never did before.”
“And what did it tell you?”
“That he’s fallen for you.”
I stared at my mama and shook my head. “I’m not sure that’s quite true. He can be cold and rude, even cruel at times…” But then I thought of how he held me last night. How he was so gentle. How he checked that I was okay. And I wondered…
“Yet despite it all, you’ve fallen for him.” Mama got up and kissed me on the head, leaving me sitting in silence on the piano stool. “Your papa is bringing your things in now.”
“Okay,” I said, as if by rote.
“Bonnie?” Mama asked. I looked up. “Do you want me to tell Easton?”
Fear of telling him left me paralyzed. But I shook my head, knowing it had to come from my lips. “I’ll tell him,” I said and felt the weight of the world bear down on me. Because the thought of Easton’s reaction scared me more than the heart failure itself.
* * *
“Bonn?” Easton walked into the office that was now my bedroom with a look of confusion on his face. He saw my piano and my bed. The walls, the carpet. He stopped dead. He was still wearing his clothes from last night. He must have come straight from Charleston. “What’s going on?”
I could tell by the look of apprehension on his face that he already had an idea. “Come and sit by me,” I said, patting the bed.
“No,” he said, his voice tight. He started breathing deeply. “Just tell me, Bonn. Please…” The fear in his voice almost destroyed me.
I stared at him. At his long blond hair and bright blue eyes. “I wasn’t in England this summer for a music seminar, East.” He stood still and listened. “I was there seeing a team of doctors about my heart.” His nose flared. I needed to just tell him quickly. “There’s nothing more to be done, East.” I inhaled, forcing myself not to break. “My heart is failing.”
It was slow, but second by strained second, Easton’s face contorted into one that was racked with pain. “No,” Easton said.
“I’m on the transplant list. But I’ve had to move home. My body is getting weak, East. I’m deteriorating fast. It made sense to come home so I’m safe.” I didn’t add the list of possible threats that came with heart failure. He knew them as well as I did. Both of us were too terrified to say them aloud.
“How long?” he asked, voice hoarse, thick with emotion.
“I don’t know. The doctors don’t give a specific time frame, but—”
“How long?” he asked, more panicked.
“Maybe three months. Two at the least, four if I’m lucky. Though it could be sooner.” I got off the bed. Easton stayed where he was, like he was soldered to the floor. I stood before my twin, my best friend, and put my hands on his arms. “But a heart might turn up, East. We have to pray that one comes.”