Page 144 of Heat & Deceit
“Welcome to the pack,” he says with a megawatt grin.
I try to answer, but my eyelids flutter closed. If I died now, I’d die happy.
Thirty-Eight
NOVA
The faint sound of piano notes wakes me in the middle of the night. I roll over and blink. The bed is empty. Where did Ly go? I push myself up and slip out of the room, trailing my fingers over the wall as I make my way toward the music. The louder it gets, the more my heart clenches inside my chest.
The music is so melancholy.
The door leading to the piano room is slightly ajar, and I pause, holding my breath as I watch Ly’s fingers fly over the keys. His body sways, lost in the music and the mood. The notes flow together, but I recognize the song. It’s not necessarily sad, but the way Ly plays it fills me with so much sorrow, I find myself surging forward. He continues to play, and I sit beside him, trying not to be too loud.
He studies me but keeps playing, hitting every single note. He’s so good. My gaze drifts over him. His shoulders are bunched together, and he hasn’t smirked. There’s no spark in his eyes. The song comes to an end, and we sit there, staring at each other.
Eventually, the silence is too loud and I break it. “Are you okay?”
“No,” he admits.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
His features darken, and I almost regret asking, but he sighs and nods. “I had a dream about my dads.”
“Oh.” I wait for him to continue.
“My mother died giving birth to me. My dads, well, they were always pretty hard on me. That’s a lie. They were horrible. Always told me how much of a disappointment I was. They blamed me for her death, and in a way, it was my fault, you know? If I hadn’t been born...” He trails off and shakes his head. “In my dream, they were nothing like that. They were loving and kind. Then I woke up.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” I say firmly, needing him to know how true that is. “You’re amazing, Ly. Do you know that? You deserved love.”
He shrugs and focuses on the piano, playing the beginning notes of another song. I grab his hands and hold them, waiting for him to look at me. His gaze lifts to meet mine. An all too familiar bout of self-loathing flashes across his face. I know what it’s like to hate yourself.
“Youcan’tbe a disappointment.”
“And why’s that?” he asks.
“You tell me every day how amazing I am, and I’ve done plenty of things that are disappointing.” I move my hands to cup his face. “So, you see, if you’re a disappointment, what am I?”
“You’re everything.”
My heart squeezes. “And so are you.” I shake his face a little. “So, fuck your dads. They’re assholes.”
“Like fathers like son?”
I chuckle. “You’re a different sort of asshole,” I tell him before leaning in and planting a kiss on his lips. “Will you play me something that makes you happy?”
“Only if you give me another kiss.”
“Such a hard bargain.”
I brush my lips over his in a chaste kiss, but he grabs me and crushes his mouth against mine, stealing my breath and searing my soul. We break apart, and he turns to the piano. I watch as his fingers move over the keys with practiced ease. The song is sweet and upbeat, but it isn’t until he sings the chorus ofI love you, babythat I recognize the song. The original version is good, but the way Ly plays and sings it—a little faster and smoother—it’s better than good. It’s perfect. With a soft sigh, I rest my head against his shoulder and hum along with him.
* * *
“I have a quad shot latte for Francesca,” I call, setting the to-go cup on the counter before jumping back to the machine to finish out the latest rush of tickets. Randal appears at my side, scrutinizing me, as I set down the last drink. I’ve been covering up my mate marks with makeup and scarves, but I’m instantly worried he knows something he shouldn’t.
“What?” I ask with a laugh.
“You’re smiling.”
