Page 21 of Persuaded

When he slid the heavy garage door open now, the air inside felt chilled. Dusty, like his mother’s room. But this place had always been something of a museum, devoid of life aside from those days when he and Finn had made it theirs. The cars hadn’t moved and he trailed a finger across the hood of something black and shiny, leaving a mark in the thin layer of dust. He’d always made a point of not learning the names of the cars, asif that small defiance of his father’s will had been all he could muster.

As he considered how to get rid of them, his eyes fell on one car—he’d probably been unconsciously looking for it—and he stilled. He and Finn had taken to driving the red convertible. He remembered sitting in the back seat while Finn worked, his feet propped up on the door as he scribbled away at his endless compositions. As if he could ever have captured that summer in his own music when it was so dominated by the music they’d shared: Zeppelin, Skynyrd, Robert Plant.

Footsteps echoing, he made his way across the garage. The car door opened smoothly and he barely hesitated before slipping into the back seat. The leather felt cool under his fingertips—he remembered the feel of it against his bare back that one night they’d driven up into the woods and made love beneath the stars. Leaning his head back, he stared up at the garage ceiling and wondered, not for the first time, whether he should leave New Milton. He hadn’t intended to stay beyond that first summer. He’d intended to make his peace with his past and move on—but somehow, he’d lingered.

Part of it was the people, Dee and her daughters, Liz and the kids at school—a found family, of sorts. Part of it was a sense of belonging, the feeling that this place was closer to home than anywhere else in the world. And, when he thought about it with clear eyes, he had to admit that part of it had been a misguided dream that Finn might one day return to claim him.

But that dream was over now, so perhaps it was time to cut the tethers of home and friends and give himself a chance to build a life. He could take up his music again, reach for the dreams he’d abandoned. He could be free of the creeping melancholy that had rendered him aimless all these years. Maybe he could even find something like the happiness he’d once known with Finn, with someone else. Someplace else.

With an inconclusive sigh he got out of the car, closed the door, and took the requisite photos of all the cars. By the time he was done the afternoon had faded, turning the sky a deep sunless blue. He had one last thing to do, the one thing he’d been dreading most, but it had to be done and it wouldn’t take long.

The music room door was closed and creaked slightly—like it always had—when he opened it. On the threshold, he paused. This was where he’d last seen Finn, where Joshua had torn it all down.

That day, the French windows had stood open to the tail end of summer and Finn had stepped inside, curious at the summons, surprising Joshua before he was ready. He’d been shaking, braced against the piano as he’d rehearsed the words over and over in his mind, and he’d jumped when Finn had spoken.

Hey, Josh, what’s up?

Joshua cringed from the memory, his regrets coiling tight, and turned his attention to the piano. This, he realized, was the only part of the house he missed. The mediocre upright he had in the cottage couldn’t compare to the mellow beauty of the grand, and despite—or more likely because of—his melancholy his fingers itched to touch the keys. Sean wouldn’t mind, even if he could hear him all the way in the kitchen. Which he couldn’t.

Before he could second-guess himself, he opened the piano and pulled out the stall. He brushed his fingers lightly over the keys, relishing the silk of the ivory, leaned down to inhale the scent. He flexed his fingers, stretched them, and ran an arpeggio up and down the keyboard. His eyes closed at the sound, at the memory of it. Hours—he’d spent hours of his youth at this piano.

He noticed it was a semitone sharp, but it probably hadn’t been tuned in years. Not since he left. Aside from his mother, no one else had played. Still, it sounded better than his piano at home and he couldn’t resist. He played the first few bars ofthe Chopin he’d been working on and stopped to listen to the sound echo in the empty room. Then he played a few more bars, then carried on and let his eyes close and his mind focus solely on the music and the emotion. Like always, it tugged at him, today more than ever. He could feel it in his heart, loss and grief swelling out of him like he might burst: his mother, his home, and Finn. Always Finn.

When he reached the end his head sank down and he breathed deeply to bring himself back from the edge, blowing out an audible huff.

“Wow,” Sean said from the doorway.

Joshua started at the sound, swiping a hand over his damp eyes as he stood up. “Sean, I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Sean stepped into the room. “I had no idea you could play like that, man. I mean, I knew you taught piano, but...wow.”

Joshua shook his head at the undeserved praise. “It’s notthatgood, Sean. There was a lot of slack technique in there.”

“Yeah, well, not that I heard.” He looked genuinely impressed. “Seriously, Joshua—that’s like professional level or something.”

Closing the lid, he shrugged. “Not really.” He pushed the stool back under the piano. “Besides, anything sounds good played on this. It’s a beautiful instrument.”

“Yeah,” Sean said. “I wish—I mean, Tejana and I don’t play, so it just seems stupid to keep it.”

Joshua agreed. “It should definitely go somewhere it gets played.”

“You, ah...” Sean scratched a hand through his hair. “Could you buy it?”

He smiled at that, gave a slight laugh. “Even if I could afford it, I’d have nowhere to keep it.” He ran a hand over the wood. “No, it has to go, I’m afraid. I’ll find it a good home.”

Sean nodded, looking thoughtful. “You know, until it sells... I mean, if you ever want to just come and play, feel free. I mean that. Anytime.”

“Thanks.” He smiled at Sean’s sincerity, felt the warmth of friendship blossom in his chest. “I might just do that.”

“In the meantime,” Sean said, “I came to see if you were hungry. I have some leftover veggie paella—it’s awesome. Tejana made it—and a couple beers, if you’re interested?” He gave an awkward shrug. “Kind of quiet here, when she’s away...”

“I—” Joshua’s instinctive refusal turned into “Thank you, that sounds good.” There was something about Sean he couldn’t resist—much like his brother, yet in a completely different way. Sean was so earnest, so gentle. Maybe trying to build a friendship here was a mistake, but Joshua decided not to play it safe. Where had that ever gotten him, anyway?

They ate in the kitchen and talked about politics, and local history, and a little about their respective childhoods. Joshua told him about his teaching and his travels, about why he’d decided not to go into the family business, but when Sean said, “So what’s your endgame?” he didn’t have much of an answer.

“Just be happy, I guess.” He hesitated, considering his nascent intentions to cut his ties with this place, with his past. With Finn. “Find love, if I’m lucky.”

Sean cocked an eyebrow. “Anyone in mind?”

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