“I’m probably just … well, I mean, I’m just projecting or something. Right? Because what monsters would think that way? But …” I sigh, suddenly feeling weighed down by everything. By my whole goddamn life. “But I’ve always thought they were annoyed that I was still around. And I don’t know if that was because they thought it should’ve been me—wished it had been me—or because they regretted the fact that I was born in the first place or?—”
Then Jason’s arms are around me, and he’s pressing my face into his chest. “If that’s what they think, then yeah, they are monsters. Because even when you were Hunter’s annoying little sister, you were a cool kid. I’ve always liked you. And I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to keep up with you. I’m sorry that you’ve felt abandoned for years and that you think you have to do everything on your own. That’s not how it works, though. You’re not solely responsible for your own success. No one is. I wouldn’t be where I am if I hadn’t been massively helped by countless people along the way. The fact that I’m now in a position to substantially help other people? That makes it my duty to do so. And doubly so for you. I promised I’d look out for you. And I guarantee you that if Hunter were still here, he’d have done all this for you and more.”
“Well,” I mutter into the soft cotton of his shirt, “I don’t think he’d insist on marrying me.”
Laughter bursts out of Jason, and he pulls back, releasing me when I raise the tissue to my face once more, though he doesn’t look disgusted. “No,” he says at length. “Your brother definitelywouldn’t marry you, that’s true. But then, he also wouldn’t be able to provide you with health insurance that way. You’d have to just let him pay for it or something.”
Pursing my lips, I narrow my eyes and consider that. “I’m not sure I’dhaveto do any such thing.”
“Well, hopefully once we’re married, you won’t feel so guilty about me paying for things. Or seeing a doctor. Washington is a community property state, after all.”
My eyes go wide at that. “Then we definitely need a prenup before we get married. I’m not marrying you so I can get half of your money when we divorce.”
He shrugs. “I had an attorney draw one up already. We’ll find someone to go over it with you before we schedule a time at the courthouse. We’ll need witnesses. Or, if you’d rather, we can have a low-key ceremony at a park. Or Abernathy has a big backyard where he hosts team barbecues in the summer. It’s this weekend, actually, so we’ll miss it.”
I give him a quizzical look. “Why will we miss it? Or, well, I’ll probably still feel terrible, but why wouldyoumiss it?”
“Well, if you’re still feeling terrible, I’d want to keep you company. And if you feel up for driving around a bit, I can at least take you to a few spots. We’ll save the more walking-intensive parts for once you’re back to a hundred percent. But …” Another shrug.
He’s missing his team barbecue to spend time with me? “Will people expect you to be there?”
“A few people know that you moved in this week, including Abernathy, so no. Not really. I mean, he said I could bring you if you were up to it, but also, they’re a nosy bunch, and I wasn’t sure you’d want to deal with that so soon after getting here.” He purses his lips, drumming his fingers on his mouth as he thinks. “You know, though, once you’re feeling better, you should meetTina, Abernathy’s wife. She might want violin lessons for her oldest. You teach little kids, right?”
“I have, yeah.”
“Right. They have a six-year-old. I think. Right? She was in Kindergarten last year, so …”
“Yeah, she should be six then, if she’s going into first grade. That’s usually how that works.”
“Like I said, I don’t know one way or the other, but if you’re willing to teach that age, Tina might be interested. And if she’s not, she’ll know the other families with kids who might be, not to mention her contacts at her kids’ schools. She’s very well connected.”
Pleasantly surprised, I nod. “Okay, that sounds really good.” Then I wrinkle my nose. “It’s just … I don’t have a studio space lined up yet.”
Jason gives me a confused look. “Uh, couldn’t you teach here? Or at your student’s house? When you were a kid, you took lessons, right? I feel like I remember that. I mean, I know you played at school too, but didn’t you have private lessons?”
“I did, yes.”
“Were they in Poynette?”
I shake my head. “No. We went to DeForest. Poynette’s too rinky-dink for a violin teacher.”
He shrugs. “DeForest’s notthatmuch bigger.”
“I mean, compared to an actual city? No. But there was a violin teacher there.
“Okay. And did you go to a studio or to your teacher’s house? Rinky-dink or not, our neighbor taught piano lessons out of her house when I was a kid. Remember her? Miss Susan?”
“Yeah. She was also the elementary school music teacher.”
He snaps and points at me. “That’s right! Somehow I’d forgotten that. Anyway. If you taught out of a studio or somewhere else, wouldn’t you have to pay for it?” He spreads hisarms. “This doesn’t cost anything. And if you’re willing to travel, there are plenty of people who’d be willing to pay a premium to have you come to their house.”
“No car, though, remember?”
Standing abruptly, he goes to the kitchen, opens a drawer, pulls out a set of keys, then returns and sets them on the coffee table. “Problem solved.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jason
