Page 186 of Composed
A note rings out, echoing through the room and out the door, before only quiet remains.
Then a soft, little voice pitches up. “Again, Uncle Coley.”
Air grows thick in my lungs.
Cole tugs at one of her curls. “You’re needy today Melly.”
My hand tightens around my guitar case. I half expect him to shoo her away and close the door, leaving her in silence. Only he doesn’t.
Because ofcoursehe doesn’t.
He repositions her in his lap, before diving straight back into a new melody.
My pulse thrums, my heart skipping a beat.
He isn’t just sharing music with her. He’s building itforher.
Weaving a medley of his favourite songs all because she asked.
I draw in a slow breath, take a step back, and force myself away from the door as footsteps sound behind me.
I spin, finding Carter watching me. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He shifts his weight, his expression impassive. “I was just coming to find you. Are you busy?”
I peer into the live room again, air catching in my throat as Cole guides little fingers beneath his over the keys.
We’re supposed to be nailing down the last couple tracks for the album today before finalising the songs we already have. But there’s no way I’m pulling him away from this moment.
I turn to Carter.
“Depends.” I tilt my head. “You got any more secrets kids you wanna throw at me? Not sure my nervous system can handle it this early in the morning.”
He inhales a short breath, then releases it slowly. “I deserve that.”
“Little bit.” The corner of my mouth tugs up as I slip past him and ease the lounge room door open.
“No more kids,” he says, stepping in after me. “Promise.”
I flick the lights on, drop my guitar case onto the couch, and pop the kettle on. “You want a drink?”
“I’ll sort it.” He nudges me out the way as he grabs two mugs down from the highest shelf. “Your tea skills are less than desirable.”
I snort. “You sound like Cole. The man won’t let me near the kettle when he’s around.”
“Too right. Death by Yorkshire Tea is not the way to go.”
I bump him with my shoulder. “Piss off. I make a great cuppa these days.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it.” He cups my shoulder and steers me to the sofa.
I drop down, cross my legs on the cushion, and settle my Hummingbird into my lap while he dithers about with the tea.
I twist the tuners, popping my lips as my mind swirls with a million and one different questions. “Hey, Cart.”
“Yeah.”
“Question.”
