Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Ainsley

I find in Matt and Jacob what I needed, a safe space.

We talk about the past four years, and I tell them everything.They apologize for not looking after me, but I understand them. Jacob was in a bad accident—he almost died. Mattie needed to look after him.

After a long conversation, I withdraw from school, at least for a semester. My grades are falling, and I don't want to fail the semester. That's not the only change. Jacob and I decide to open a company. We'll compose music and lyrics for other artists, including his band Without A Compass . Matthew joins us because he hates being left out.

I feel like everything is beginning to fall into place.

Mason only sticks around for a couple of days. He has work to do. However, he promises to move all my belongings out of Porter's house and into storage. Though the lease on my new place starts soon, I don't plan to move until June, maybe July.

Matt, Jacob, and I need time together. The rest of the world could be on fire, and we wouldn't care.

By mid-summer, my brothers announce that they have to go on tour, but before they leave, they want to make sure I'm safe in my new home. Mason is waiting for us at the airport when we land. He paid a guy to drive Eleanor to Texas—and she's already waiting for me. The four of us spend two days unpacking and setting everything up—of course, we don't finish. When it's time for everyone to leave, I don't feel lonely. This time, it's different.

Do I miss my fathers?

Sure, but I'm getting used to their absence. It's been four years since they checked out of my life. I hope they're happy together, with their favorite child, Porter. My brothers promise to call often, as long as I do the same.

The first night in my new bed is everything I ever wanted, but the morning, not so much. The intense June sun blasts through the windows, taking away the option to sleep late. A yawn follows my mental rant. I should've stayed at a hotel until the shutters were installed.

Hesitant, I push the covers aside and kiss my fluffy pillow goodbye. With a sigh, I stagger outside my sanctuary—or it will be when the plantation blinds arrive.

The microwave in my new apartment reads six fifty-three. My new place. I smile widely when I see Constantine—my baby grand piano—in the middle of the living room. Mason and my brothers went to my childhood home, packed it, and used a freight company specializing in moving pianos.

My plans for today are to finish unpacking and find a job. I need something to do while I wait for the semester to begin. I look at the boxes and realize that most of the books still need to be put away. That might be the first thing I do after breakfast. I recheck the time. If I go downstairs to swim a few laps, maybe I can skip my new exercise routine. Living with my brothers was great, but it also added a few habits.

I eat a cup of fruit, a bowl of oats, and drink a glass of almond milk before heading to the gym for a twenty-minute walk and a few laps in the pool. My brothers might've introduced me to working out every day, but releasing endorphins helps calm my mind.

The physical activity makes me forget that I no longer have a family and my boyfriend was a terrible person. That I lost my baby. That pain will never go away, but some days are a lot more manageable than others.

James gives me the strength to continue.

After a few laps around the pool, I take a shower and get dressed. When I check my phone, there's a text from Mason.

Mason: How are you?

Nine: I'm good. Are you ready to disappear?

My heart stutters. He's going off the grid again.

Mason: Yes, but keep texting and emailing. I'll be anxious to hear from you.

Nine: Stay safe.

Mason: Always.

I don't know what he does, but sometimes… Is he risking his life?

I choose to believe that he's creating video games, and he just likes to ignore everyone around him.

My life is back to almost normal. I go to college, work at a coffee shop, and play music at nights—until ten so the neighbors won't complain. One night after a late class, I arrive home, prepare a sandwich, and change into a pair of lounge pants and a comfortable T-shirt.

I grab Breezy, my guitar, and my phone, and walk to the balcony, where I turn on the fake fireplace to illuminate me and call my brothers. We do this as often as possible.

"Whatup, princess?" Jacob answers.

"Hey, Ainse." Matt's mellow voice follows his greeting.

"I'm not a princess." I stick out my tongue before saying, "I think I'm going to add another degree or go to grad school."

Jacob smirks. "I can't say I'm too surprised. You like books and studying. You should've gone into medicine. That's like twelve years of your life behind a book."

"Mattie?"

He shrugs in response. "Other than continuing your professional education, are you okay?"

"Some days are better than others. I've been writing angry music—in case you have an artist looking for it." That sounds a lot better than explaining to them that there's a wave of sadness that comes and goes. At night, the tide is higher, and sometimes it swallows me into a deep depression.

Jacob snaps his fingers. "I have just the singer in mind for that kind of music. Amidala, have you heard of her? She's the next Fiona Apple. Dad signed her a couple of months ago. We discovered her."

"We did," Mattie says proudly.

"I can't say I have." I rack my brain, but I honestly haven't heard of her at all. "But if you think she'll do it justice, I'm all for it. Give me a week, and I'll get you a few songs. Now, I'll make my guitar scream with rage if you two don't mind. Any plans?"

"Barhopping," Jacob chimes. "We're trying to find fresh meat for Dad."

I laugh because it sounds… creepy. He's like a vampire finding new blood for the king, wolves with a tribute for the alpha… a new sub for the Dom.

"Does Daddy give you something special when you bring him offerings?" I ask him.

"No, but our names will appear as producers on their songs and albums."

Ah, that makes a lot of sense.

"If our musical child makes money, we make money. Now, if you don't mind, we're hunting wabbits, so we have to be willy, willy quiet."

"I love you two," I say between laughs.

After we hang up, I stare into the darkness. "An angry song, hmmm. Should I sing about Porter, the asshole?"

Instead of strumming Breezy gently, I want to smash it against the floor like Peter Townshend, the lead guitarist from The Who , used to do after his concerts. But then Breezy would be dead and I will cry even more. My parents gave her to me for my eighth birthday. It's handcrafted especially for me.

Play, tell the world how much men suck, Breezy murmurs.

And I do, because so far, I haven't met one that's worth it. Well, except Mason, but he's not a guy. He's just… Mase.