“Good to hear.” I chuckle without turning around, trying to ignore the way my heart reacts to her every word. “See you in a sec.”
I’m only gone about five minutes and when I return, Jenna’s half dressed in an oversized shirt and a lacy black G-string, making mealmostforget what I’m doing.
Not that she’ll let me.
With her arms folded over her chest, she raises a brow and smirks. “I’m waiting.”
“And you’re doing it beautifully.”
Blood rushes in my ears as I riffle through my bag until my fingers brush over the hard case of my harmonica. Then, with as straight a face as I can muster, I spin to face Jenna again, holding out my hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Her eyes widen as they dart from my face to the instrument in my palm. “I thought you played guitar?”
“I do. And piano. And drums and…”
“Harmonica?”
“We’ll see.” I cringe subtly because I have no idea how this is going to go. I haven’t played anything since my parents died. But I want to. For Jenna.
“We’ll see?” she questions, rightfully so, because who the fuck tries to woo a girl with an instrument they’ve never played before?
“This was my grandfather's.” I wave the harmonica around, huffing out a half laugh. “I never learned to play. But I taught myself two songs in the lounge while waiting for my flight.”
“You taught yourself?” She gapes, studying my face for a beat, likely waiting for me to laugh. Only I’m not joking.
“I did. So…apologies if it sounds awful. I haven’t actually played it out loud.”
My chest tightens with uncertainty, and I chuckle to hide it, shaking my head. After a deep breath, I raise the harmonica to my mouth.
Glancing away, I blow a few times, testing the sound, wincing when it’s too high or off-key, taking a few beats until I relax into it. Music used to be my life. I wanted to make waves. Travel the world. And I lost that for a while. Until now. I can do this. It’s not going to be anything life-changing, but if it makes her smile, it’s worth the pain.
Closing my eyes, the notes flow naturally for “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” the bittersweet melody filling the room, the wistful sounds seeping into my bones.
My heart races as I pour my soul into the music, my brows drawn, my body so tense that I’m aching.
I don’t move. I can’t. It’s been too long since I allowed music to fuel me, and it’s impossible to stop.
Jenna’s quiet as I play, but I feel her energy radiating around me, feel her eyes locked on my face, and it lights me up inside.
The final note permeates the air and I pause, catching Jenna’s eyes on my lips, her awed smile making my chest tight.
“Wow. That was…” She trails off, her wavering voice matching the emotion in her eyes.
“A Christmas song?” I finish for her, though I’m certain that’s not what she was going to say. “The plan was that I’d play it and you’d understand the deeper meaning.”
“That I need to remember the magic of Christmas?” A smile softens her lips.
“No. That I’m here to bring the magic back. That you won’t have to spend Christmas alone anymore. That you’ll always have me. If that’s what you want.”
Jenna’s smile drops and she sucks in a breath, a glint of wonder in her misty eyes. “I want that. It sounds perfect. What was the other song?” she asks, subtly wiping her eyes.
“Ah.” A light chuckle escapes me as I scratch the back of my neck. “‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’ by Guns N’—”
“Bullshit. There’s no way you taught yourself that song.”
“I never said I was good.”
“You never said you weren’t either. Are you some kind of musical genius?” Jenna appears awestruck but I shake it all off.
