Page 76 of From Drummer to Gamer

My betraying heart fluttered, and my feet carried me to him, my previous anger forgotten in an instant. Now, I wanted to soothe him and bring the light back to his eyes.

“Sorry,” he mumbled once again as he lowered himself back.

I took the usual spot that he had assigned to me. I didn’t say a thing as I watched him closely, and he just sighed.

“I’m just not used to this.”

I frowned. “Used to what?”

“People in my space. People asking me questions.”

I bit my lip. “It’s just that in my family, no one was ever allowed to be sad and sulk. My mom would give us two hours to fix our shit or else the entire family would intervene to cheer us up. My mom would make all our favorite dishes, and by the end of it, we wouldn’t even remember what made us sad in the first place.” A soft smile lifted my lips. “But I know that’s not how every family works, so I’m sorry I pried.”

“You didn’t.” His eyes locked on mine. “I don’t mindyouprying.”

My cheeks burned with a blush as I nodded.

“It’s just that I have a lot on my mind recently. It’s a bad time of the year for me.”

“A bad time of the year?”

“It would be...” A swallow worked his throat. “Thirteen years sincehedied tomorrow. Truman. That was his name.”

Oh.

Now, my heart ached with different emotions. I wasn’t sure why, but his sadness became mine somewhere along the way.

“I understand,” I whispered, and without giving it much thought, I leaned over and grasped his huge hand in mine.

He stilled, watching me intently.

The warmth of his touch seeped into my skin. I slowly laced my fingers with his, feeling the rough calluses on his palm swallow my small hand.

On the surface, he was hard and rough, but he was still human on the inside.

And every human wanted a companion, needed a companion, especially in the dull, dark days.

“There,” I said, smiling as I held his hand. “Now, I’ll be there with you in your peace and quiet.”

His gaze grew intense, almost as if he was drilling my soul with his eyes. It took a long moment before he nodded, and the lines on his face softened as he slumped back on the couch, the tension in his muscles falling away.

And we stayed like that, for how long I had no idea, but the grip of his hand tightened ever so slightly by the moment while he absentmindedly ran his thumb over the back of my hand.

And every time he did that, a surging spark riddled my heart. I disregarded my hormonal feelings because that wasn’t important right now.

He was.

I had no clue when I’d fallen asleep because when I woke up later that day, I was curled on the couch with a soft blanket draped over me, a blanket that smelled like him, musky wood and amber, but he was nowhere in sight.

My heart still hurt for him. I still didn’t know what kind of connection he had with Truman, but I arrived at the conclusion that he was the one who taught Matty everything about music.

And music was Matty’s life, so he must’ve had a great impact on his life.

I mean, he definitely must’ve because Matty was still here, today, years later, keeping the dream of his friend alive.

He was a good friend.

A good man.

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