Page 12 of Fractured Destiny

Zoey sets her mug down on the side table.

“Okay.” She turns toward me as much as the belly allows. “Who is she?”

I focus on the curls on top of Quinn’s head. “Who’s who?”

“Honey.” Zoey arches a brow. “You had the best night of your professional life and you look like somebody died. There’s a girl in this somewhere, I’d bet my unborn son’s life on it.”

Liam looks at the rug, hiding a smile. Avonna’s the opposite, watching me with steady, unwavering eyes. Ty and Linus glance between all of us.

“Nah, it’s stupid,” I sputter.

“Tell us the stupid thing.” Ty sits on the hearth.

I give them a truncated version. The beautiful woman in a red dress at the bar after the set. How she noticed something about my music nobody could’ve known unless they’d lived inside it with me. A night of pure connection and how she disappeared, leaving a piece of my own notebook torn off and folded on the milk crate with her name and nothing else. No number. No way to find her.

“See what I mean?” I shrug. “I can’t think straight because of a woman whom I’ll never see again. I’m an idiot.”

Nobody laughs.

In fact, Quinn pats my chest twice with a small, flat hand, like she’s checking to see if I’m still working.

Linus shifts forward. “Yer not an idiot. Yer a songwriter with an open heart. We’ve all been there, brother. It’s not a character flaw to want connection beyond…erm, the physical.”

“Hmmm. Could be a wound with a record in it.” Avonna tucks Sloane’s hair behind a tiny ear. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but trust me, put all of your disappointment into your music. It’s the one place she can’t disappear on you.”

Ty hasn’t said a word. His eyes are fixed on Zoey, and Zoey’s are on him. A whole conversation passes between them with me outside of it.

Finally, he glances at me, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “You know my band’s album Z. Right?”

“Yeah. Of course.” I nod. “Everybody on earth does.”

“Z is Zoey.” His eyes flick to her and soften. “Right before the band went on our first tour, she left me. Note on a nightstand, no goodbye, blocked my number, gone. I thought I’d die without her and couldn’t find her or fix it.” He reaches over and lays his big hand on Zoey’s belly, and she covers it with hers. “Now, here we are. Happily married. Our first baby coming any day. It took us years to find our way back. The heartbreak didn’t kill me, but I had to be man enough to use it instead of drowning in it.”

As if on cue, the rain comes down harder. Sloane has fallen asleep against Liam’s chest. Quinn’s eyelids are getting heavy against my shoulder.

“Look, I’m not sure about your situation and I’m not telling you she comes back.” Ty leans over on his elbows. “Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t. I’m telling you what you’re holding right now is fuel. Don’t waste it being ashamed of how bad it hurts. Make it into something nobody can take from you.”

“I’m so sick of not being chosen.” It comes out before I can censor myself.

Thankfully, I don’t blurt out the rest. I learned a long time ago how to keep quiet, shrink into myself and try to be useful so a house would keep me. Even if Ty might understand what a torn piece of paper left on a nightstand does to a person who’s been rejected his whole life, I don’t have the confidence to say any of it.

“Dude. You know I’ve got a studio here.” He clasps his hands in front of him, deep-blue eyes searing my soul. “We’ll be in Seattle for a while, come by. I’d be happy to help you record a few tracks.”

Have I found my place amongst these people?

I’m sitting in a warm room with a sleeping kid on my chest and the most supportive group of adults I’ve ever known, outside of Diego. Nobody asks me for anything. They include me. Appreciate me.

Before I can go down any rabbit holes in my feelings, the pizza comes. Ty pays the kid at the door while Liam lifts a sleeping Sloane off his chest and lays her on the couch by Zoey, who helps settle Quinn next to her twin. The rest of us grab slices and stand around the kitchen island stuffing our faces.

By the time I leave, it’s almost dark and the rain hasn’t let up. Ty walks me to my beat-up truck.

“I meant it.” He grips the back of my neck the same firm way he did when I came in. “Let’s record some songs.”

“Yeah, okay.” I toe the ground.

“And, brother.” He waits until I look at him. “She wasn’t nothing. Don’t let a bad experience dim what you want. If you felt a connection, believe in it. Let it be as big as it was.”

He goes back inside.