Page 47 of Love is a Lyric
His mom didn’t give him time to contemplate it. “As entertaining as this is, it’s time to talk about what happens next.”
“Next?” Ben didn’t understand.
“Son, you are an international star currently sleeping on a twin bed in your childhood room.”
His dad put a hand on the back of his mom’s chair. “What your mother is trying to say is you can’t stay here forever.”
“Oh gee, thanks, guys.” Even though he saw the truth in their words, they stung. The last week had been one of the most painful and confusing times of his life. But he’d found a sort of idyllic rhythm, one without constant calls and texts—thanks to Piper—a rhythm where no one wanted anything from him. He wasn’t Ben Evans, front man forFate. Here, he was Benji, just a guy with legs too long for a twin bed who wanted to play music whether anyone heard him or not.
When was the last time he’d written anything without thinking of the commercial aspects of the song?
“They’re not wrong, Ben.” Piper’s gaze met his. “You came here to escape what happened, and I followed, but there are decisions coming for you, decisions none of us can help you with.” How did she see everything so clearly?
It didn’t hit him until right then what it meant for her to go work for Drew. Forget the confusion from this morning, over the last couple years, Piper Hayes had taken care of him in ways he didn’t see. She made sure he didn’t screw up, helped him learn songs he felt too dumb to learn.
“I know.” His shoulders sank, and he pushed his plate away, no longer hungry. “I’m hiding.”
His mom reached for his hand. “Benji, you will forever have a place here, and you can stay here as long as you want. Don’t think you can’t. But… you have a life, son. A big apartment in L.A., a career. We’d hate for you to throw everything away because Quinn hurt you.”
“Hurt me? You think this is some simple heartbreak?” He couldn’t meet Piper’s gaze as the words fell from his lips. “I can’t remember singing on stage without Quinn. Did you know that? Every bit of my music is tied to her. My songs, the notes constantly filtering through my head. I can’t play without wanting her with me.” A flicker of pain passed over Piper’s face, but she hid it quickly. That was what she was good at.
And Ben wouldn’t lie to her. Whatever he’d felt this morning, it didn’t matter, not when the one thing that made him who he was belonged to her sister.
“She didn’t break my heart, Mom. She broke my music, and that’s worse. So much worse. Because without the music, without the piece of me that belongs to Quinn, I am nothing.” He wasn’t smart or capable of any other skill. Ben was a musician right down to his soul.
But could he still be a musician without the girl who’d gotten him to where he was? The one whose lyrics pushed him to writing his own music?
“Honey.” His mom squeezed his hand.
He had to get out of there, to get away from his parents and their pitying looks, away from Piper and her all-seeing eyes.
Pushing back from the table, he stood and brushed a hand through his hair. “I-I’m sorry. I just need a bit of space. Don’t worry, though, I’ll be out of here soon.” He looked to Piper. “I think it’s time I have my phone back.”
She nodded and slid it out of her pocket. His fingers brushed hers as he took it, but he ignored the jolt the contact struck through him. He refused to substitute Piper for Quinn. Neither of the women deserved that.
Sucking in a breath, he turned and ran up the stairs to get his guitar, needing that connection to his life.
By the time he stepped outside, his dad had cleaned the kitchen, and his mom and Piper were nowhere to be found. He didn’t want to regret being honest with them, but he couldn’t help feeling like his words would forever change how they saw him.
She didn’t break my heart.
He hadn’t realized how true those words were until he’d said them. He didn’t miss his relationship with Quinn. Had any of it been real? Or just a story to sell their fans?
But the music, connecting to her lyrics and singing on stage with her, that had given him life.
Who was he without her?
Lowering himself to the edge of the deck, he dropped his legs over the side and stared out across the expansive yard to the line of trees. There was a peace here he’d never experienced anywhere else.
And it soothed the turmoil inside him.
As his fingers plucked strings and switched chords, Ben tried to complete the song he’d started earlier before Piper found him. But without Quinn’s lyrics, he couldn’t connect to the notes. They didn’t flow from one into the other. Piper called it beautiful, but he knew it for what it truly was.
Soulless.
Just like him.
His phone dinged, and he stopped playing to look at it. Forty-six messages. Most were from Drew—that guy was annoying—or Melanie.
