Page 13 of Between Now and Forever

“But youaren’tlike everyone else, Liz,” he says in an exasperated voice while he runs an agitated hand through his hair.

“Iwantto be.” I implore him.

He stops pace and turns to look at me.

The anger in his eyes makes me take a step back. He advances on me and I continue to retreat until he grabs me by the shoulders and clamps down hard.

“If being friends with these people is so important to you, then go ahead and change. Ignoreeverythingthat isyouand maybe one of these assholes with one tenth of your vision and none of your talent, will finally ask you to come to one of their dumbass parties where all they do is get drunk and pretend they’re happy.” He’s nearly foaming at the mouth.

I’m so taken aback by his vehemence, that I step away from him.

James is practically the town mascot. Anyone who heard him talking like this would feel like they were seeing the sun in the middle of the night.

“James, I thought—”

I glance at the piano that sits in the room across the hall from this one. As understanding dawns, I pull my head out of my ass long enough to remember who James was before Phil left.

I remember what lurks beneath the veneer of obedience and loyalty he wears like a second skin now.

“Don’t give up the things that make you special, Clo—Liz.” He says sternly.

Pity and guilt douse my annoyance and I put my hands on his shoulders and look him in the eye.

“You mean, like you did?” I ask softly.

His eyes lose their intensity, and fill with heartbreak before he lets go of my shoulders. He walks over to the piano and sits down.

“Yes. That’s exactly what I mean,” he says, his voice muffled but heavy with regret when he drops his head into his hands.

I sit next to him and curse my selfishness for not seeing it.

He’s a talented musician. When he was a teenager, there wasn’t an instrument he couldn’t play.

But he’d given up a chance to attend a music conservatory to go to Baylor, like our father and grandfather before him. And he started working for the family business when he graduated.

“Why did you do it?” I ask.

He straightens and turns to face me. His expression is full of conviction, his eyes intense as he answers me.

“Because it’s my duty, and with Phil gone, I’m the oldest. This is a family business. And, unlike you, I wasn’t good enough to make any money off my talent. Being a starving artist held no appeal for me.”

“Youweregood enough.”

He shakes his head.

“No, I wasn’t. Butyouare,” he says, and I flush as a rush of pleasure and pride wash over me. But I feel sad for him, too. Hewasgood enough, but he chose to stay here. Until now, I thought he was happy to do it.

“Well, thank goodness one of us is smart enough to help Daddy with the company. Lord knows I’d never be able to step into your shoes. I couldn’t even get into college,” I say in the jocular tone that I always use when I talk about my failure as a student.

He slings an arm over my shoulder and pulls me into his side. He presses a kiss to the top of my head and holds me there.

“College isn’t for everyone, Lizzy. And thank God it’s not for you, because if you’d gone, all of that beautiful art you’ve been creating wouldn’t be here.”

I flush with pride at his words, but try to wave them off because I know he’s probably blinded by love.

“Dad doesn’t think it’s beautiful.”

“He doesn’t think about anything like that. Value is money or power. If you can’t bring him those, you’re useless.”

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