Jace lifted his head from his hand, patted her butt affectionately, and accepted the piece. “Thanks.”
“I smell food,” Brian said, leaning out of his bunk. “Smells good. Who’s cooking?” He blinked his eyes in the light of the cabin until they focused on Eric at the stove. “Sticks? Never mind. I’ll starve.” He closed his curtain again.
“Good,” Jace called, his mouth full of toast. “Leaves more for me.”
“Aggie’s got him under control,” Trey said, hopping out of his bunk and stealing bacon from the counter.
Trey sat across from Jace and handed him a piece of his bacon. “You okay, man?”
“Yeah.”
Sed climbed out of his bunk and slid next to Trey, his big body taking up more than its share of the booth. “I’m in,” he said. When he tried to help himself to Trey’s bacon, he got his hand slapped.
Brian hopped down from his bunk. “I guess if the rest of you die of food poisoning, there’s no reason for me to go on alone.”
“Think of Myrna,” Trey said.
“I’m mostly thinking of my stomach.” Brian scooted in next to Jace. “Man, you sure you should be out of the hospital? You look like death warmed over.”
Now Aggie felt guilty. She exchanged glances with Eric. “We should have let him sleep in this morning,” she whispered as she turned the hash browns.
“He usually doesn’t get out of bed until noon. He always looks like shit in the morning.”
Aggie went to the refrigerator and shoved the beer aside until she found a bottle of orange juice. She unscrewed the top and set it in front of Jace. “Here, baby, drink this.”
He blushed at her sentiment, and it did not go unnoticed by the other guys. “Yeah, baby, dwink your juice all up,” Trey said. “Be a good widdle man.”
Brian pinched Jace’s cheek. “Such a cute widdle baby, isn’t he? He needs to dwink his juice from his sippy cup.”
Scowling, Jace slapped Brian’s hand away.
Aggie grinned. The guys loved him. That’s why they teased him relentlessly. He was like their adored little brother. Why couldn’t Jace see that? Maybe Aggie needed to help him see what was already there.
Chapter 34
Jace stood behind the stage watching the roadies set up for the concert in Edmonton. He could hang out here until they were done. Then he’d have to leave because Jon would start rehearsing with the band for their show. He couldn’t force himself to watch that.
The next night there’d be a symphony playing in this venue, and the orchestra’s instruments had already been delivered. They were lined up along the back wall behind the stage area which made it challenging for the roadies to maneuver their stage sections into place. Feeling woozy from looking at the rigging, Jace meandered to the bench in front of the symphony’s grand piano. He sat heavily and took a deep breath. Maybe he should check himself into a hospital. He couldn’t regain his strength. That probably had to do with keeping Aggie satisfied. It was impossible to keep his hands off her. He didn’t bother trying.
Jace leaned against the keyboard of the piano, and it pinged discordantly. Someone had forgotten to cover the keys. He turned on the bench, tossed back the heavy canvas covering the instrument, and reached for the little knob connected to the wooden lid. His wrist hit the keys. He paused, instantly transported back in time. He could almost feel his mother sitting beside him, her arm pressed against his shoulder, her leg against his. During those times, he pretended she cared about him.
Jace shrugged his sling aside and allowed his fingers to settle on the keys, his feet on the pedals. He definitely felt Mother as his fingers found a familiar melody. He could hear her, speaking in that barely perceptible whisper of hers. Don’t play the music, Jason. Let the music play you. Give yourself over to it. Let it inside. It’s alive. Do you feel it?
Music was alive. He did feel it. He always had. It was more real than his own existence.
Jace let the melody take him, giving his fingers free rein. The keys beside him, where his mother’s fingers should have rested, remained still, but he heard her playing with him as surely as if she’d been sitting beside him. When he reached the end of the song, the final note rang and his mother faded away.
“I didn’t know you played piano,” Aggie said. “That was beautiful.” She slid onto the bench beside him. “Play something else.”
He shook his head and pulled the cover forward to hide the keyboard. He hurriedly slipped his arm back in his sling so she didn’t harass him about playing. Aggie took his left hand and squeezed. How did she always know when he was feeling most vulnerable? She sensed it like a vulture senses carrion, and circled overhead, waiting for the perfect opportunity to swoop down and rip his heart out.
“Where did you learn to play?” She brushed his hair behind his ear with her free hand. It was getting too long to spike, and he needed to bleach his roots, but since he wasn’t performing, he didn’t bother.
The shiny black cover that hid the keyboard blurred out of focus. “My mother taught me.”
“She must have been talented.”
“Yeah. Music was the only thing she really loved.”
Aggie’s hand slid over his lower back, and she leaned against him. “And you. She loved you.”
He shook his head slightly. “No. She never wanted me.”
“I don’t believe that.”
He found the anger—found it and clung to it. “I don’t give a f**k what you believe.”
He shoved her away and tried to stand, but she grasped him around the waist and pulled him back on the bench.
“I don’t believe that either. Talk.” She slid a hand up his face and turned his head. He couldn’t meet her eyes, so he stared at her chin. “Talk to me, Jace.”
He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to fester. Why wouldn’t she leave him alone?
“Tell me why you think your mother didn’t want you.”
The ache in his chest spread up his throat, stealing his air. “Because…” He took a deep shaky breath. “Because she told me. Every day she told me.”
He fought the stinging ache behind his eyes. Men don’t cry, son. Yes, Father. I know. I know. It’s her fault. Aggie’s. She won’t leave me alone. She keeps pushing. And pushing.
“What did she say exactly, Jace?” Aggie asked. “Maybe you misunderstood.”