His Sweetest Song Read online

  I moved in. “But you said you don’t know anything about him?”

  “Not really. He lives on the outskirts of town,” she said. After slinging the beer mug she filled down the line, she placed her hands on the bar. “Like I said he keeps to himself.”

  “Do you know where exactly he lives on the outskirts?”

  I didn’t really know why I asked, but I was curious about him. Besides the brief, unusual interaction I had with him I found what she’d said about him being a loner completely contradictory. Loner people didn’t tend to make sudden appearances in peoples’ homes and honestly show genuine concern for the state of the homes’ well-being. He did, though.

  He definitely did.

  Ava dipped below the counter.

  “I don’t,” she said. Popping up, she retrieved a glass. “But he’s sitting just over there if you want to ask him.”

  Her chin jutted in the direction of her right and, sure enough, down the bar—I mean, the exact very bar I sat at—the man I’d been questioning her about resided. He had a glass of something clear in his hands, his tall body arched over the busy bar with steady traffic in and out from the counter.

  I froze, the man literally four barstools away from me. I had no idea when he came in or even if he had been in here the whole time I’d been, which reminded me of our initial encounter earlier today, the surprise of it all.

  Hugging my bag, I snuck a casual glance in his direction. He was sitting by himself, a loner like Ava said. He tipped his glass of whatever back and forth on the bar and the other bartender came over, speaking to him briefly.

  Gray simply lifted his glass in response, then went back to nursing it. He smoothed his hand over the short layer of scruff on his jaw and in the movement, he turned.

  Our gazes collided immediately.

  Gray’s body lifted, his eyes narrowing and the fact he knew exactly who I was and where I sat in position to him was evident.

  Turning on his stool, he faced me in much of the same way he’d done before, full on and unrelenting. I thought maybe he’d turn away or… something, but he didn’t. He simply picked up his glass, then came right to me.

  My purse’s strap slid under my slick hands. I had no idea why this man was making me nervous. Perhaps, it was how in my face he was. He talked right at me before, and was coming over here now.

  His glass clinked the bar when he set it down, only a barstool between us.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  The flare of blue that was his eyes only severed their gaze from me when Ava asked the question.

  He smiled at her, tight, but genuine.

  His dark hair tousled more when he shook his head, some of that brown curling over his eyes with the movement.

  Dismissed, she nodded, then tipped her chin at me. “I’ll be ready in five to take you home.”

  I thanked her with a wave, truly appreciating her generosity. Especially considering Gray was here now.

  “Can I uh,” he started, pushing a hand behind his neck. His eyes creased hard in the corners. “Can I take a seat here or are you meeting someone?”

  Like I knew anyone here. In fact, other than Ava, he was the only other person I’d associated with.

  I waved to the barstool next to me, but not before I stood. Ava said we’d be leaving soon.

  He watched me as I gathered my things.

  “Allie, right?”

  I closed my eyes slowly.

  “Actually, Alicia,” I said, facing him. “Grayden, right?”

  “Gray.”

  Well, now that we were acquainted again.

  Ava, where are you…

  “I see you’re leaving, but I wanted to catch you.”

  “Really?” I asked, more than sarcasm dripping from my voice when I tossed my gaze in his direction. I put an arm on the bar. “What exactly for?”

  “To apologize I guess,” he said, opening his hands. “If I scared you by being in the house—”

  “You didn’t.” And I did partially mean that. I wasn’t scared after a minute or so. He didn’t scare me or intimidate me.

  His lips went firm with his nod. “Not even a little? I was in your house, your aunt’s house.”

  “And what was that about anyway? Are you just a creepy lurker or—”

  “No,” he said seriously. He shook his head. “I was trying to help. I probably didn’t go about it the best way, but honestly didn’t expect you to be home.”

  “And that makes it right? You breaking in—”

  A key stamped down on the bar, his fingers slipping away from it when he pulled his hand back. The overall design and grooves looked eerily familiar to me.

  Because it looked exactly like the one my realtor gave to me.

  “Where did you get that?” I asked, glancing his way. “Is that a key to my house?”

  Broad shoulders lifted and dropped, but I doubted it was because he didn’t know the answer to my question. He put his hand back on the bar and his finger danced over the key.

  “I knew your aunt well,” he said, flashing dark lashes at me. “I did work for her before. Lots of work when she needed it. I checked up on her too sometimes, made sure she was okay and…”

  His words drifted off when I retook my seat. Silent, I didn’t exactly know what to say to that, to what he’d said. He helped my aunt. He checked up on her, which was more than her own family had ever done, me despite the fact of not knowing that I could. I’d been so young when I had last been here, the memories of the past and my times here faint.

  Those were crystal clear for Gray, this guy who’d only been in this town not even a year. He took a swig from his glass he’d been nursing.

  “You got something hard in there?” I gestured to his glass and he shook his messy locks again.

  His smile after he swallowed took me by surprise, the hike in his strong jaw playing out all over his face. He didn’t look so aged when he smiled.

  Sitting back, he put his arm on the bar. “Not tonight. I actually don’t drink a lot. It’s just seltzer water.”

  “Seltzer water? In a bar?”

  His head dipped once.

  Now, I’d seen it all.

  From over his shoulder, my ride came down the lane, Ava sliding on a jacket.

  I got off my stool again. “Apology accepted, Gray. But only if you don’t break into my aunt’s house again.”

  His lips lifted in the corner, his hand rising from the bar. “Is it considered breaking in when you use a key?”

  And since I didn’t have the answer to that, I didn’t respond. Instead, I got my bag and moved past him to meet Ava.

  “Wait, Allie— Alicia. You forgot your key. Your aunt’s—”

  “Are you as good at fixing things as you are at diagnosing them?” I asked facing him. He’d stood up, the key in his hand.

  He pushed the barstool behind himself with his leg. “Yes?”

  I nodded. “Good. Then you’ll need to keep that key for when you come back. I’ll need you to fix all the things you mentioned. You got time in the next few days? I’m here for less than a week.”

  Chapter Three

  Gray

  My boots crunched gravel when I left my pickup and I shut my door behind me to approach a house with deep-blue shutters, the property lights on and the house bright inside. The entire property was surrounded with a white picket fence, the temperate air of a summer evening breezing about the leaves of the two large oak trees planted in the front yard. White-walled with the brown porch wrapped around created a vision of security, a stable home and a steady life that no doubt went with it.

  My feet moving, I cracked the harmony of that home when I creaked the white gate open, closing it softly behind me. I looked up to find my presence already known despite how quiet I tried to be. I didn’t want to disrupt the flow of the environment more than I already had been doing as of late.

  Ms. Jolene Berry came with her smile, always with her smile no matter how early in the evening I tended to
be. I really tried today, took my time by going to the bar and everything.

  “Gray,” she said, waving, her pants cuffed at the ankles. She had her powder-blue blouse tied at the waist over her cotton t-shirt, the young school teacher casual in the final days of summer. Stepping from her doorframe, she met me midway onto her lit porch.

  “We actually just got done,” she said, not acknowledging the fact that I’d come early once again today. I could thank her for that.

  In the past I had.

  My smile small but always genuine, I nodded at her, then panned to her left a little. She was shy one person today, my little person.

  Laura could be quiet, but I never lost her. I always found her. Always.

  A head with a crooked ponytail bobbed and tilted not far behind Jolene, strands of deep, dark silk hiked high atop her head. I’d been getting better at doing her hair, but we’d been running late today. I had a repair job in the town over at an office building and could be mismanaged in regards to time sometimes. I always made sure we got where we needed to be in the end, though. That was my job.

  That was my honor.

  On her belly, Laura colored in Jolene’s living room with a colored pencil, her location within clear view of the school teacher’s foyer. She and Jolene must have gotten done early like the teacher said. She’d never let Laura color unless she was done with her schooling.

  My smile widening, I made moves forward, toward her, but stopped when Jolene flagged me down.

  “I wanted to speak with you about something quickly if we could,” she said, cutting my view off from Laura a little when she shut the door a bit. She didn’t do it much and I assumed so sound couldn’t travel.

  I guess that explained why they finished up early. She wanted to talk to me.

  “About?” I asked finding her eyes when I removed my gaze from Laura. “Everything all right? Did she—”

  “She was an angel as she always is,” she told me and I believed her. She’d only spoken highly of my daughter, honest about my daughter.

  Sometimes to the point of overstepping her boundaries.

  I felt she was on the cusp of that now, a change in the summer air I spoke about before.

  Her vision panned to Laura through the glass window on her door.

  “I’d like to see Laura join regular classes in the fall,” Jolene said, confirming my earlier thoughts. She faced me. “She’d do well in a traditional school environment. She’s smart. You’ve seen her work.”

  My daughter was smart. She was.

  But that wasn’t the problem.

  Moving my jaw, I faced that same girl through the window Jolene stared upon. She’d continue to color, keeping to herself as she always did. My daughter never bothered anyone. She’d never been trouble for me.

  Squeezing my fist, I stared at Jolene. “We’ve had this talk before.”

  In fact, too many times to count. The discussions had only gotten more frequent as the summer months dwindled down. I took Jolene on to teach my daughter all she could before the regular school year required more of her time. The tutoring would allow my daughter the best education possible as I took on repair and maintenance jobs.

  This had been a big step for me.

  I didn’t trust easy, but I gave this woman before me a chance. She came with questions and answers I never had, but she took on the job. She seemed happy to, especially after meeting Laura. Like I said, my girl didn’t get in trouble.

  I breathed. “My daughter won’t be starting school and I can go back to homeschooling her in the fall if you don’t have time—”

  “That’s not what this is about, Gray,” she said, her expression serious. “You know I enjoy teaching Laura. I just want her to have the best learning experience possible.”

  “Which is?” I asked, my face doing nothing to cool in the soft heat of the night.

  She shook her head. “Interaction. She needs friends, Gray. She needs something I can’t give her and people her own age.”

  “And you’d know exactly what she needs wouldn’t you, Jolene?” I told her, raising my head. “Because you’re a parent? You know how to parent my child?”

  Because she didn’t and last time I checked, she didn’t have children. She was a teacher, an educator and a damn good one judging by the work my daughter brought home.

  But that didn’t give her any right to parent.

  Having enough of this, I went to move around her. She did move out of my way. I gave her that, but that didn’t stop her words.

  “She’s getting… worse, Gray.”

  I closed my eyes, my hand sliding from her door.

  Worse…

  “Her withdrawal…”

  The woman’s eyes were cringing when I turned around, her face sad as strands of her red hair swept her face in the wind on her porch.

  She pulled it away, shrugging a little. “It’s like some days I don’t even know if she’s there. If she hears me at all when I’m teaching her.”

  My eyes cringing now, I faced my daughter, barely an expression on her face while she colored in her coloring book. I got so used to that, so much so that some days…

  My fists tightened at my sides, my head shaking when I faced Laura’s teacher again.

  Jolene came forward and the genuine concern on her face was evident. She’d had it that first day she met my daughter, but it got better. It got better.

  “She needs interaction with others, Gray.”

  “She has me,” I said, lifting my head.

  Jolene nodded. “She does and she’s blessed to have that.”

  Was she, though? Sometimes I did wonder.

  I wondered if I brought more hell than happiness into Laura’s life, but worse, I worried if I was the cause for her lack of happiness. She didn’t have fun like most children her age, didn’t laugh and barely played. Jolene was right. My child was withdrawn.

  And only one had been able to get through to her.

  I squeezed my eyes, hearing Jolene’s steps creak closer. Those slats on her wraparound porch were giving way under subtle movement.

  “Consider school,” she said, then made it worse when she said, “I think Jo would want that for her.”

  I watched my daughter in the dim evening of our drive home, her head leaning against the half-open window of my old truck. She had her fingers curled tight over the top of the glass, wisps of her chocolate-toned hair touching her cheek in the open wind. Flush and round, her cheek peeked beneath the strands, her dark-brown lashes framing eyes I knew to be just as brown. She looked like me in so many ways, but more so resembled her mom. Her skin toasted and tan, Laura held strongly to the Puerto Rican roots of her mother and I was proud of that. I was glad she had that, something if anything positive from her mom.

  She’d never have much, a reality I knew more than she might ever even as she grew into adulthood. I worried for those times, the days and years that passed for her.

  I worried who she’d end up becoming.

  Swallowing, I forced my eyes on the road, my thoughts taking me away as they always did. I was always thinking, my mind a web of anxiety and unease.

  “Ms. Berry said you did well today,” I told her, referring to what little good did come out of my conversation with her teacher.

  There hadn’t been much.

  I breathed, facing Laura. She reacted in no way to my words, her hand playing at the window. Some guys couldn’t get their kid to stop talking.

  I unfortunately never had that problem.

  Trying to get her out of herself, trying anything I moved her leg, forcing a smile at my little human.

  “How about we make your favorite tonight?” I asked her returning my hand to the wheel. “We got a bunch of mac and cheese last grocery trip.”

  I knew she liked it because she ate a lot of it, always going back for more and being assertive about it.

  I didn’t know what I hoped for by telling her I’d make her favorite dish, but in the end, I didn’t get much. I just got
Laura, Laura ignoring me and maybe listening. She only did when I was forceful about it, obedient when she needed to be and nothing more.

  We listened to the road a long time before I spoke again, and by then, I found myself grasping at straws. I told her about my day and all the work I’d done. I took on about three repair jobs today before settling in at that bar this evening and I told her details about every one of them.

  Which may have been the problem.

  I noticed her head lift when I mentioned Jo’s place, her fingers stopping entirely when I moved on to details about my time at the house.

  “It’s looking good,” I said to her, smiling when her hand returned to her lap. She rose up. She was listening.

  My smile widened. “It’s been cleaned up real nice and I got a job fixing the place up. I’ll get some of those things done that fell by the wayside a little.”

  The older woman had been maddeningly stubborn in her days. I couldn’t work on anything without her getting on me about it. She literally wouldn’t ask for help until things broke down.

  That’s how wonderful she’d been.

  She’d been so kind to Laura and me, and in the back of my mind, I knew that’s why my daughter was paying attention. She was listening about the woman and home she cared about and because she was, I kept on. I kept talking, kept pushing, and mentioning everything, which occurred today at the house outside of Josephine’s niece. I would have gotten to that. That came next.

  Until Laura.

  My daughter rarely looked at me when I spoke. Like I said, only when she knew she needed to. She did so in instances of urgency and because those occasions were so rare it was hard to know if she was paying attention like Jolene said.

  I damn sure knew when something was wrong, though.

  My daughter didn’t scream. She didn’t shout. She didn’t yell and sometimes… well, sometimes I wished she would. It’d let me know she was in there.

  It’d let me know my daughter existed.

  The smack of her hand on my truck’s dashboard rang in my ears, then reverberated in both the cabin and my head when she hit against the truck’s window. Laura wasn’t much for strength. Eight-year-olds really weren’t, but I heard those hits, those pounds against the glass and the door. Her other hand joined in, fists slamming and hands slapping and the violent sounds surged bile to chase up my throat.