Page 86 of Hinder
A grin takes over my face, one that stretches the skin so much it almost hurts. “Well, then, it looks like you’re stuck with me.”
His smile is just as wide. “I like the sound of that.”
My heart squeezes at the thought he might be into me a fraction of the way I am to him.
28
Leighton
“So your dadis Richie Sands, huh?” This is it. The information I’ve been tasked to discover. I don’t think it’s the secret my uncle is expecting, and while I have no intention of sharing it with him or anyone else, a new curiosity blooms in its place. The kind in which I have to know everything about this woman in my arms.
Opal worries her lip between her front teeth before meeting my stare. “Yeah, only I didn’t find out until it was too late. I never got to . . . Not that he’d have wanted me in his life anyway.”
“That’s bullshit.” My voice comes harsh and fierce. Her eyes widen at my outburst. “I don’t see how anyone wouldn’t want you in their life. He would have loved you. It’s impossible not to.”
Her eyes shine with wetness and she nods as if my words were exactly what she needed to hear.
My finger trails from her hip, up her ribs to where her tattoo paints her skin. “So, this . . .”
“His words. My mother met him on the road. She traveled with the band for some time. They were lovers. I don’t know why she left, but I suspect she knew she was pregnant with me. They wrote letters. The ones you’ve seen me with. My mama passed on after complications during my birth. But I never knew about the letters or my father until I discovered them a few years ago.” Tears leak from the corners of her eyes, but her voice is strong and full of love.
“Opal, I’m so sorry.” I press my lips to her forehead, transferring what comfort I can give. My mind conjures a young Opal, wide green eyes and without a home. The loneliness she must have felt all those years without her parents. No child deserves that kind of pain. My admiration for her grows exponentially. My God, she’s so strong.
She releases a shaky breath and pulls back to find my gaze. “Don’t be. It was a long time ago.”
“But it still hurts. To lose someone, or the idea of something, even if you never had it.” This I understand. Right down to my bones. I may have grown up with every opportunity one could ever want, but my parents weren’t present, not really. Most of my childhood was spent in the company of paid help tasked to look after me. Hell, my own parents would rather disown me than support my dreams because they don’t align with theirs. That’s not unconditional love. They’re nothing like books or movies, and I’ve always coveted that.
“It does.” She nods, a small smile working onto her lips. “I’m just thankful my Grams didn’t have it in her to throw away the letters. Otherwise, I never would have found Lexi. I’d have no one.”
I ask the question even though I suspect the answer. “Where’s your Grams now?”
“In heaven, baking her famous sticky buns.” She laughs, and its equal parts pain and admiration. “Feeding everyone, probably.”
“You’re a lot like her, then.” My fingers can’t help but brush along her jaw. To touch her.
She smiles and it’s so damn beautiful. “I hope so. I miss her.”
“Is that what you want to do? When you’re done playing PA for the famous Trent Donovan?”
“You mean bake?”
“I mean, what do you dream of doing, if you had the choice? I could see you running your own bakery or restaurant. Becoming a chef.”
“That’s not my dream. Don’t get me wrong, I love feeding folks, but not for a career. No, I, well, I-I don’t quite know what I want to do. Did you always want to be the drummer in a rock band?”
“Ever since my eleventh birthday. Yes.”
“What happened on your eleventh birthday?”
“Reckoning by the Grateful Dead. That album changed my life. Until then I hadn’t listened to anything except classical. But that gift, it changed everything. It showed me music was more than a practiced and perfected replication of the past. It was real, living and breathing. Those songs meant something. I suppose most little boys dream of playing in a band, but this was different. I spent all my free time sneaking out to play drums until I got my own set. Then it was sneaking to the basement when my parents were out.”
“They never knew?”
“No. I think part of me understood they’d never approve. While my friends were sneaking pot and opioids, I was sneaking hours on the skins. Pretty lame, huh?” I chuckle. “I hope it doesn’t change your impression of me.”
“Not at all.”
“So, there’s nothing you’d like to do for a career?”
