Page 67 of The Sound of Forever
A sound that’ll never fade,
The light that guides me through the darkness,
The hope that never sways.
The tears comebefore I realize it, falling onto the page as the lyrics take shape. I don’t stop them. For once, I let myself feel it all—the loss, the love, the pain, the beauty. It’s all there, flowing through the notes, stitched permanently into the words.
When I finally set the guitar down, the room seems to hum with a quiet sense of release. Like something I’ve been holding onto for years has finally let go. I glance at the notebook, the lyrics staring back at me, and I know this is just the start. There’s still so much to say, so much to express. But for now, this feels right.
This feels like a beginning.
This feels like finding my voice again.
This feels like stepping into something new.
This feels like the sound of everything I’ve been waiting to say—maybe waiting to be.
This feels like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
ChapterSixty
Julianna
Some daysI don’t believe this is my life. Rayne is standing at the sink, her small frame dwarfed by the stool she’s perched on to reach the faucet. She’s brushing her teeth, her gaze fixed on her reflection in the mirror. Mr. Floppy—her new stuffy—is tucked under one arm, his ear dangling precariously close to the toothpaste tube.
“Don’t forget the back teeth, Ray,” I say, leaning against the doorframe.
She glances at me in the mirror, her eyes serious as she adjusts her angle and gets to work. Keane stands behind her, carefully brushing the tips of her hair. “She takes brushing more seriously than anyone I’ve ever met,” he murmurs.
“She has a system,” I whisper back. “Don’t mess with it.”
Rayne finishes with a dramatic rinse and spits into the sink, carefully wiping her mouth with the small towel I placed on the side of the sink.
“Done,” she announces, holding up her butterfly toothbrush like a trophy.
“Excellent work,” Keane says, stepping into the bathroom to grab the towel hanging nearby. He crouches down to wipe a stray drop of water off her chin. “Now you’re all set for bed.”
Rayne nods, climbing off the stool and padding down the hallway toward her room. I follow her, Keane close behind, and we help her climb into bed.
“Story time?” Rayne asks, her voice small and hopeful.
“Of course,” Keane says, grabbing the book from her nightstand. He sits on the edge of the bed, his long legs folded awkwardly as he opens the book and begins to read. His voice dips and rises with each character, adding a playful depth that makes the story come alive.
I sit in the bench his friend Zeke gifted Ray a few weeks ago. He builds furniture, but it’s mainly for friends—not for sale. I watch the two of them. Rayne clutches Mr. Floppy tightly, her eyelids growing heavier as Keane turns the pages. By the time he’s on the final page, she’s fast asleep. She’s relaxed and peaceful under the covers.
Keane closes the book softly and sets it back on the nightstand. We both sit there for a moment, watching her sleep, the room filled with a quiet kind of magic that’s hard to put into words.
“She’s amazing,” Keane whispers, his voice barely audible.
“She is,” I agree, my heart swelling as I look at her. “And so are you. You’ve been so good with her.”
He shakes his head, a hint of disbelief in his expression. “She makes it easy.”
I place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “We make it work. All of us.”
He nods, his gaze softening as it lingers on Rayne for a moment longer. With a gentle kiss on the crown of her head, he straightens and motions toward the door. We tiptoe out, closing it behind us carefully.
The creak of the stairs follows us as we descend, our steps quiet so we don’t wake Rayne up. Reaching the back door, he unlocks it, and we step outside. The cool night air greets us as we cross the porch and head into the backyard, and turn on the fire pit.
