Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 98823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
And I knew exactly what I wanted to share. I headed to the piano in the front room. On stage, I usually played guitar or sang without an instrument, but here, I always ended up with my old friend, the same piano I’d learned on and written all my early music with. My stomach felt weirdly hollow despite the giant breakfast. I licked my lips, suddenly unable to look at the three of them.
Breathing shallowly, I stared at the white living room wall, the ridiculous painting of some golf course my parents wanted to visit. The nostalgia of the art and the room itself was grounding. The house might be different, but this was still my home, my favorite piano that Mom kept tuned for me, and these were my favorite people.
Playing for them was natural. I shoved away nerves about what Duncan might think of the song I’d been toying with and let my fingers take over. I warmed up with a song I’d been working on before Duncan, the sort of usual lusting after some faceless person ballad the band was famous for. Funny how my life was now divided into before and after Duncan, even my music showing the shift.
“More.” The pride on Mom’s face gave me the courage to launch into what I really wanted to share. I’d written the lyrics on the tour bus from Saint Louis to Chicago because I hadn’t been able to shake my conversation with Duncan, where he’d told me about his drive to help other vets and how often the system failed them. I’d been frustrated with Duncan acting cool toward me, and like always, the frustration had led me to my music.
The song tried to capture how often we walked by without knowing someone’s inner struggles and how humbled I was by each glimpse of Duncan’s complicated feelings surrounding his military service. I’d invented characters for the song, but he was behind every note, his sacrifices and losses. And after all that he’d been through, he hadn’t lost his moral compass, was still compelled to reach a hand out to help others up.
Mom had called us heroes for the rescue yesterday, but it was Duncan’s inherent goodness in the face of so much adversity that truly made him a superhero to me.
As the song ended, the three of them clapped, but it was Duncan’s reaction that truly mattered to me. Our gazes met, and the emotion I saw there mattered far more than any words he might speak. I wanted to go right to him, but I held back, knowing I’d reveal far more than he was comfortable with. So I let his look sustain me through my parents complimenting the music and waiting for them to head back to the kitchen before we were alone.
As soon as my parents were out of earshot, Duncan crossed the living room to stand next to the piano. His gaze softened further, the affection in his eyes more potent than any praise.
“That was…” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“Rough. It’s not really done yet.”
“It’s amazing.” He laid his hand on my shoulder, massaging lightly. “Your best work.”
“You think so?” I dropped my eyes to the keyboard, strangely shy.
“I know so.” He tipped my head back so I had to look at him, and his expression was so serious that my throat tightened.
I forced out a laugh. “You have listened to enough of my stuff…”
“I have.” Rubbing his thumb along my jaw, Duncan didn’t let me hide behind my joke. “Ezra, that was incredible. I don’t have the right words. I’m not a poet like you. But thank you.”
I’d been praised thousands of times, awarded, paid, raved over, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever been thanked. Turning my head, I pressed a kiss to his hand.
“You deserve far more than a song. But if you say it’s good, maybe I’ll play more with the arrangement, get it ready to show the others.”
“Oh.” Dropping his hand, he sucked in a breath.
“What?” I spun on the piano bench so I could see him more clearly. He’d turned pale, and his body was stiff, almost brittle with tension.
“They’ll guess who it’s about,” he whispered. “I’m sure your parents did. But like you said, they don’t talk. Your bandmates are another story. They’ll guess what inspired the song. And then it won’t be a huge leap to…other deductions.”
“Oh.” He wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t like I knew a ton of other SEALs or even other military types. And I had made a huge deal of bragging about him being a SEAL multiple times. People would remember that, connect the dots. And I could argue the song was about friendship, not romance, but we both knew the truth.
“Yeah.” He swallowed audibly.
“It’s okay.” I touched his clenched hand. “I won’t share the song yet.”