Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Isaac practically jumped out of his skin. “What? Oh, um, I don’t mind. Keeps me busy. How’s your friend?”
“Asleep,” I murmured.
“That shit out there was real,” Isaac muttered. “Fucking cops,” he added under his breath.
Yep, he was definitely running from something.
I went to the island in the kitchen and trailed my fingers over the violin case sitting on it. I flipped the latches on the case and studied the instrument. I’d paid a small fortune for the instrument when I’d gotten my first job performing with an orchestra in New York. Losing it had been like losing a part of me, but strangely enough, its return wasn’t doing much for me. My gaze automatically shifted to the violin on the coffee table in the living room.
The one Dallas had gotten for me.
The one I played for Gentry every day, the one I played for Dallas every night.
It was a lower-quality instrument compared to the one Isaac had returned, but somehow, I played better on it than I had on any other violin I’d ever used. I had no doubt it was less about the instrument and more about the audience.
I felt Isaac’s gaze on me and turned to find him watching me. He dropped his eyes and then reached for a plastic container I hadn’t noticed on the counter. “Um, your mom asked me to bring this with me. It’s lasagna, I guess. Said you and your man would be hungry after such a long day.”
“You talked to my mom?” I asked, lifting a brow as I accepted the container.
“Um, yeah, I went to your house first and she said you’d be here. She told me how to get here.”
The container was heavy in my hand, indicating it was likely filled to the brim with food. I’d only seen my mother a few times since Dallas and I had returned to the center, but on the occasions I’d gone to the house to check on her, she hadn’t let me leave until my arms were laden down with plastic containers full of everything from full meals to cookies to soup. At first, I’d thought she’d just ended up making too much for herself because she hadn’t gotten used to cooking for one, but then I’d realized that there was way too much food for even two people.
Meaning she’d purposely cooked the food for me and Dallas.
“Thanks,” I said. “Are you hungry?” I asked, holding up the container.
The guy was super skinny so I figured even if he wasn’t hungry, he should eat anyway.
“No, that’s okay. Newt and I should go,” he said as he wiped his hands on his pants and then started heading toward the living room.
“Isaac, please, I’d like you to stay,” I said. “I have some questions for you.”
He stilled, then nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
I went and grabbed some plates and silverware and then motioned to the couch. Isaac grabbed the plastic container and followed me. He sat down to next to Newt and put his hand on the boy’s head. “Newt, are you hungry, buddy?”
Newt sighed and stretched a bit, then opened his eyes. He shook his head and then sat up and pressed against Isaac’s side so his head was on his chest. He promptly fell back asleep. Isaac lovingly ruffled the boy’s hair and then dropped a kiss to the top of his head.
“Is he your son?” I asked as I handed Isaac a plate full of lasagna.
“Um, no, he’s my brother.”
I nodded, though, in truth, the age gap surprised me. But I didn’t comment on it. I was in the process of scooping some lasagna on my own plate when it hit me.
“Isaac…Newton,” I said with a smile. “Seriously?”
Isaac smiled and rolled his eyes. “I’d like to say our mother had a weird sense of humor, but the truth is, she was just plain weird.”
The comment was made with a smile, leaving me to guess he hadn’t meant it as a criticism.
I let Isaac eat for a few minutes, but found it hard to get more than a few bites of the lasagna down myself. It tasted fine, but I was just too worried about Dallas and everything that had happened tonight to even think about something as simple as eating.
“Tell me how you ended up with my violin, Isaac,” I said softly.
He paused his chewing, then swallowed hard and set the nearly empty plate down on the couch cushion next to him, careful not to disturb Newt in the process. “Um, Trey, he gave it to me…as payment.”
“Payment? I don’t understand. Payment for what?”
Isaac refused to look at me. He glanced down to check that Newt was still out. “He had his kinks, you know? There’s only one sure way to find a guy who will agree to that shit and keep his mouth shut about it, especially for a guy like Trey.”