* * *
Ezreal and Sarastood in the doorway of the music room, watching the last contractor’s truck pull onto the street.
“That was the one my dad recommended,” he said. “Do you feel like any of them are a fit? It’s not the money, you know. I want it to match your vision.”
“Wait.” Sara rubbed her temple. “Your dad?”
“Yeah. He owns a construction company, and I used to work for him when I wasn’t in school.”
“Where was that?”
“Seattle,” he said.
“Seattle. Wallach Construction?” Sara breathed, her face blanching.
All kinds of red flags went up for Ezreal. If she knew the name of his father’s business, she had to have lived in the Pacific Northwest. His father did work all over Oregon and Washington, but his biggest presence was in Seattle.
“Are you all right?” Ezreal asked, taking her arm.
“Seattle’s a big city. I— I didn’t connect your last name with Wallach Construction.”
“You’re from there too?”
The flash of fear that washed over her face made his hackles rise, and he stepped closer. All his instincts screamed that Sara needed to be protected, but he had no idea from what. Whatever it was came from Seattle.
“It’s all right,” he said, keeping his voice soft. For a second he had an image of her sneaking away at night with her children. She must not be forced to do something like that. He said, “You’re safe here.”
“You can’t know that. Did you mention anything about me to your father?” she asked, clutching her shaking hands to her chest. “Did you mention my name?”
“No.” Ezreal slowly put his arms around her, prepared to drop them if she resisted. When she didn’t, he pulled her against his chest. She rested her head against it. “My father’s too pushy, especially about women. All I said was that I was helping a friend with a construction project.”
He didn’t know how long they stood like that, with her in his arms, but it took a while before Sara stopped trembling. Finally, she took a deep breath and straightened.
“Thank you,” she whispered, stepping back.
“What happened to you?” Ezreal asked.
For a second he thought she might answer, but then she shook her head, her lips pinched. All right. She wasn’t ready. He wouldn’t push her to share; he understood.
“Like I mentioned earlier, Darius is excited about painting a mural in here,” Ezreal said to shift the conversation.
Sara shot Ezreal a thankful glance and faced the wall he was.
“He’s excited to help. If you already have some ideas, you should jot them down.” Ezreal continued. “He mentioned painting a flowing row of keyboards at kid height. They could practice on them.”
“That might be fun. It’d have to be washable paint though.” She faced him. “I want you to know how grateful I am for your help in this.”
“Yes, you’ve said that many times.” Ezreal shook his head and smiled. “What’s the point in having money if I can’t do something good with it? I’ve invested a little in my home, but I’ve never been into acquiring a bunch of stuff. I guess that’s something all four of us have in common. And I’ve never had much of a social life outside of my small circle of friends.”
“Didn’t your online school provide extracurricular activities for you?”
Ezreal snorted. “What, the absent-minded musician who stuttered going around strange people on purpose?” He hated how the bitterness bled through the comment. If she felt sorry for him, she kept it from her expression.
“Kids can be so impatient, and adults aren’t always much better. Brand already gets mad at himself for not being as fast or agile as the other children are. I’m worried he’ll develop anger issues like— I want to spare him being made fun of, but I can’t protect him from the world.”
“You can’t. My mom thought she could just throw doctors at me and that would fix everything” Ezreal gave her a droll look. “Obviously it hasn’t.”
“You’re too hard on yourself.”
