Page 35 of The Sound of Forever
He shrugs. “She needed it. I mean, she said it, she missed her mom and home,” he states. “It was easy to know what she needed. Reassurance that she’s not alone. They tell you exactly what they’re feeling, even when they don’t have the words for it. Makes it easier to figure out what they need.”
I nod, wondering about the lullaby. I’ve never heard that before. Who is Keane? All I say is, “There’s a lot about you I don’t know.”
Tonight, I saw a side of him that caught me off guard—a softness, a depth I hadn’t expected from someone who usually keeps his guard so high.
He doesn’t respond, but his gaze meets mine, and for a moment, it feels like the world narrows to just the two of us. The hallway, the house, the night outside—it all fades away.
“Keane,” I say softly, breaking the silence. “Thank you. Really. And . . . I’m sorry about your baby.”
His jaw tightens briefly, the flicker of pain in his eyes unmistakable, but he doesn’t shy away. “Thank you,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Maybe I needed this. I needed a reminder that I’m not alone either.”
He straightens, a faint, almost reluctant smile flickering across his face before he turns and walks down the hall. I stay where I am, watching him disappear, my thoughts tumbling in every direction. This man is nothing like I expected.
Beneath the cracks and the guarded edges, there’s a depth that draws me in, someone worth discovering. The losses he’s endured have shaped him into someone who keeps the world at a distance, just like Ray. He’s built walls so high it feels impossible to reach him. And yet, something within me stirs—a quiet pull to push past those barriers and find the pieces of him he hides. To know the person he doesn’t let anyone see.
But how do you reach someone who’s mastered the art of staying hidden?
ChapterThirty-Seven
Keane
Day. . . is somebody keeping count?
I finally did it. I finally found my music . . . well, it was something temporary, but if it came to me once, it’ll come to me again, right?
ChapterThirty-Eight
Keane
Day. . . after the last one I wrote, I think.
Every evening, Rayne is like a little duckling. She doesn’t say much—barely a word most days—but she follows me as I walk the trail that runs between her house and mine. Her small feet crunching against the ground are the only sounds she makes, like she’s content to exist in my orbit without fully joining it.
It’s not a bad thing. I think she needs the space, the quiet. Maybe she feels like she doesn’t have to explain herself when it’s just the two of us walking in silence. I don’t push her to talk. Not yet.
Today, though, I tried to encourage her to make new friends at school. She looked at me like I’d suggested she wrestle a grizzly bear. Her little nose wrinkled in that way kids do when they think adults are ridiculous. Still, I hope she’ll listen.
What I didn’t say—what I couldn’t figure out how to say—was that I also hope she’ll be nicer to her aunt. Julianna tries so hard, and I can see how much she cares. Is that something I can even encourage her to do? To let her aunt in? Or is that overstepping?
Maybe I should start yoga with Julianna in the mornings or evenings. It should be a way to show her how change is good, how everyone can change for the better.
ChapterThirty-Nine
Keane
I don’t doit right away—join Julianna in the mornings for yoga.
It takes me almost two weeks to find strength to do something different. It wasn’t practicing that I avoided, but being close to her. That night in Rayne’s room I opened myself too much. Let them see a person I’ve been trying to hide. Singing a lullaby was out of character, and yet, something that I used to find simple. Creating a song for just the right moment.
And that’s yet another thing I don’t understand. For so long nothing has come to me, not a lyric, not a note, but that night it just happened.
Ray helped me find it. Not sure if it was her distress, or Julianna’s desperation. I just wanted to help them with the little I have in me—music. But after that, facing them felt strange. Let’s be honest, they can see me. And I haven’t let anyone inside me for a very long time.
Today I finally made my way to Julianna’s backyard. I stand at the edge of the mat she’s laid out for me, feeling distinctly out of place. My hands hang awkwardly at my sides as she finishes adjusting her own mat, her movements fluid and deliberate.
“Just follow my lead,” she says, glancing up at me with a small, encouraging smile. “This isn’t about getting the poses perfect. It’s about listening to your body and breathing. Always breathe.”
I nod, swallowing the lump of doubt in my throat. The last thing I want is to admit how much tension I’ve been carrying. How much my body aches this morning. But I’m here. She said that time at the studio, right? It’s about showing up and breathing.
