Page 31 of Love is a Lyric
All vulnerability disappeared from Quinn’s gaze as she straightened her spine, her lips curling in anger. “And you… you quit last night.”
“I did.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I can.”
Quinn took a step toward Piper. “How could you do that to me?”
It hit Piper then, what she’d worried about. Quinn didn’t care about losing an assistant. She didn’t care about the widening cracks in their relationship. The only thing that mattered to her was the music she’d lose if Piper left, the songs Piper had yet to write.
That knowledge ripped something open inside Piper, breaking whatever it was that tied her to Quinn. She turned on her heel and marched into her room to start throwing her belongings into the suitcase.
Quinn followed her. “What are you doing?”
“Leaving.”
“You can’t leave. I won’t let you. We aren’t done, Piper.” When Piper didn’t stop packing, Quinn walked further into the room. “Mom and Dad would be ashamed of you for leaving me when I need you.”
A growl ripped from Piper’s throat. “You don’t know what they would have thought of all this.”
“And you do? You were a child when they died. You barely knew them.”
A fact Piper never forgot. Shame washed over her, followed quickly by a torrent of anger. She dug underneath the mattress and took out her most prized possession, the notebook full of songs that until a few days ago belonged only to her. She’d never planned on giving any of these to Quinn.
But they no longer mattered. They were just words on a page. The real emotion, the anger and fear and love… it burned through her. Anger for her sister. Fear for Ben. And love for parents she only remembered with a hazy ten-year-old’s memory.
Without thinking, she ripped a page from the notebook. “You want my songs?” Crumpling it in her fist, she threw it at Quinn before ripping out another. “You can have them. Every. Last. One.” She continued tearing out pages and flinging them at Quinn until she reached the very last one, a song she’d written about the very woman staring at her in horror. These words spoke of gratitude, of reminding herself she wasn’t alone.
But now, as she ripped the final song from her notebook, she knew it was all a lie. Because Quinn had never been someone she could rely on, and it was time to stop believing the fantasy.
As the ball of paper hit Quinn in the forehead, the two sisters stared at each other, their chests heaving.
“Piper—”
Piper held up a hand to stop her. “You’re right. Mom and Dad would be ashamed of our relationship, so I think it’s best we don’t have one at all.”
“Where will you go?” Piper wondered if she imagined the concern in Quinn’s voice.
“There is someone else who needs me.” She hadn’t made the decision until right then.
She was going home.
She pulled her suitcase over the waded paper on the ground, passing a dumbstruck Conner who’d just learned Quinn didn’t write their songs after all.
“Take care of him,” he whispered as she passed.
Piper refused to meet his eyes as she pulled open the doorway and took one more look back at the open door to her bedroom where Quinn now sat on the floor, surrounded by the songs she’d wanted more than her own sister.
As Piper closed the front door behind her, she gasped for breath and tears stung her eyes. The pieces of her soul lay scattered on that floor on the other side of the door, but she had no choice in leaving them behind.
She wiped a hand across her eyes and pulled out her phone.
Drew answered right away. “Morning, assistant.”
“Are you back in town?” She sat on the front steps. Storming out was great and dramatic, but she couldn’t take the rental without the keys and had no way to get to the airport. So much for an epic scene.
“Yeah, I’m driving through downtown right now. Everything okay?”
