Of course there fucking is. Fuck my life.
“Show me?” I ask, and the guy nods. They lead me over to the hidden entry, and I curse under my breath. It isn’t big—they had to have squeezed through—but it’s big enough. I mean, it wouldn’t be the end of the world usually; but with Lincoln having a party, it’s a problem. They head through the gap, and I follow them through, coming face-to-face with the man in question.
“What are you doing?” he sneers as I come through the trees with the disheveled group. They scurry away at the sound of his voice, leaving me alone with him. Cowards.
“Coming to find you. I found them up against the house, starting a private party of their own. They showed me a weak spot between the properties,” I explain, and I can tell he doesn’t believe me from the sneer on his face. “I’ll get it sorted out, but if you can keep your drunken rabble of friends away from here, that’d be awesome.”
“Where were you? The house was dark. It’s never dark,” he asks, completely ignoring my request. I don’t know why I’m shocked, but I can’t tell if I’m more shocked that he ignored me or that he noticed I was gone.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I was away with Indi for her birthday.”
“The girl with rainbow hair?” he asks, and I nod. “Where’s Smithy?”
I sigh, exasperated. “With his family, there was an emergency. Can you keep people away from here, or do I need to call someone out tonight to sort it out?”
“I’ll keep people off your property.” He scans the front of his house. The party is in full swing and spills out here. There are people everywhere, so good luck to him with that.
“Thanks,” I say before turning my back on him and heading home through the gap in the fence. He doesn’t say anything else, and I don’t expect him to.
I pull out my phone and set a reminder to call someone about the fence tomorrow, then remember to text Indi as I head back into the kitchen. I make sure all the doors are locked and the alarm is set on my way.
Me: I’m home, party next door. All the fun
Indi: Assholes. Earplugs?
Me: Nah, I’m going to fuck around in the music room for a bit, just exhaust myself so I don’t care about the noise.
Indi: Sounds like a plan. I’m going to pass out. Good luck with the noise!
I pour a mug of coffee and pad downstairs to the music room. The quiet is such joy after an intense few days. I sit down at the piano, flicking through the sheet music I started writing when I was down here last.
I twinkle my fingers on the ivory, falling back into the place of utter peace at the feel of it at my fingertips. Emotion swells in my chest as everything I shoved down last night wells up. Being back there, with the people who loved my dad almost as much as I did, hurt me. But they’re the only people who seem to miss him like I do. Nobody else knew him like we did, not really. They didn’t see the highs and lows that came with tour life, with the success and the fame, or with the crazy fans and people who only seemed to want things from him.
I won’t lie and say it was easy, but his love for music made it all worth it to him. I can’t say that I agree with those decisions, but they weren’t mine to make for him. Even if I think the toll of it all is part of why he isn’t with me anymore.
I let my emotions flow out through my fingertips and onto the ivory as tears stream down my face. I find myself playing the song I wrote with him at the beginning of summer, and I sing through my tears. My voice breaks as I sing, but I keep going. Music’s the best therapy I’m going to get. I play and cry until my shoulders shake and until my tears blur my vision so much that I can’t see anymore. I close the lid on the piano and fall apart in the one place that I can feel my dad in this entire house.
I curl up in a ball in the corner, my heart in a million pieces in my chest, until the tears won’t come any more. I miss him more than I can express, but music makes me feel so close to him. Being at that stadium last night with everyone made everything so raw.
Once I’ve gotten a hold of myself, I trudge up the stairs to my room, too broken to care about the noise anymore. I crawl into bed still in my hoodie and leggings. I close my eyes and let sleep take me to a place of peace that I can’t seem to find when I’m awake.
* * *
Something startles me awake. The room is still dark and silent, but it feels wrong somehow. An icy drop of dread runs down my spine and my hair stands on end as I spot something moving in the darkness of my room. My heart races, and I can hear the blood rushing through my veins, like white noise in my ears as I become hyperaware of my surroundings.
Someone is in here with me. I don’t know how I know, but I just do.
I move to try to grab my phone from the bedside table, but a hand clasps around my ankle and pulls. I scream, and another hand clamps over my mouth.
Everything Mac ever taught me about self-defense goes right out the window as I try to fight off my attacker. More hands cover me, and I suddenly realize there isn’t one person here.
There are at least three.
Fear floods my system with icy dread, and my blood feels like it’s on fire as I try to kick and wriggle out of their hold as I’m ripped from my bed.
They don’t say a word as they manhandle me. I lash out with my hands when one of them captures my wrists in one hand, and it would be silent if not for my grunts of protest.
I try to bite the one who has their hand on my mouth. I just barely manage it, and the attacker lets go, hissing. The top half of my body starts to fall, and I think I might have a chance, so I flail. They drop me, and the breath leaves my body as I crash to the floor.