Page 219 of Perfect Pitch

I would give up a day without music to find the debilitating pain I felt in Carys’s conference room when I realized my childhood was a lie. Back to the exact moment I learned Tyson Kensington found his only grandchild an abomination.

Instead, I’m hanging on by a thread when I admit to Mitch, “I’m so exhausted.”

“This could have waited,” Mitch protests again as we turn down the county road leading to my grandfather’s farm.

I slide out of the vehicle after the SUV comes to a stop. “No. I want to thank him.”

“Fucking hell, for what?”

Thoughtfully, I consider my answer. “I was forged here, Mitch. It’s as much because he indulged my interest in music as it is Mama’s that I’m right here—right now—with you.”

His forehead crashes against mine. Mitch growls, “I want nothing and no one to hurt you ever again.”

Uncaring of who can see us, I press my lips to his. “It won’t.”

He’s about to reply when the screen door opens. I hear a thump, a shuffle, and another thump and shuffle. Shifting to the side, I stand still as my grandfather approaches us.

I let him have the first move, take the first step.

I have nothing to prove.

Nothing. The same way my grandfather made me feel.

As he makes his way toward us, I notice something I’ve never witnessed before. My grandfather’s eyes are dripping tears, and his face is twisted with regret. Before I can get a word in, he slides his walker toward Mitch and me. Addressing me directly, he pleads, “Tell me you weren’t hurt.”

Anger, hot and molten, flows through me. “The kidnapping?”

“Yes.”

I shake my head. “No. I wasn’t hurt by that.”

“Then what, young lady, kept you from calling me to tell me you were fine?”

“Perhaps the fact I knew you didn’t care about an ‘abomination.’‍” I air quote the last word.

My grandfather’s face pales. He wobbles on his feet before reaching out for his walker. “Austyn, sweetheart. No. That’s just not true.”

“So you’re saying my mother’s a liar.”

There’s a pregnant pause before he admits, “No. She’s not.”

I spin on my heel to storm off. I know Mitch will catch me up. Then my grandfather pleads, “Please, wait. Give me a chance to explain. I’m so sorry, Austyn. So incredibly sorry.”

The shock of those words passing Tyson Kensington’s lips draws me up short. With my back still turned, I demand, “What did you say?”

“I said I’m sorry. I couldn’t see past the pain of losing Melissa until I first held you,” he croaks out.

I hold myself stiffly even as Mitch asks, “What do you want?”

“A chance. A chance to prove to her I’ve always loved her.” My grandfather’s voice cracks with every word.

I look over my shoulder at him. “And Mama?”

His face twists. “My Paigey. I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve either of your forgiveness.”

Mitch doesn’t say anything, leaving the ball in my court. I don’t know if it’s because of what Trevor just put us through—what we’ll have to relive as he faces kidnapping and assault charges. It could be the memories weaving themselves through me like I used to braid flowers in Sharp’s mane. Maybe it’s seeing the abject loss on my grandfather’s face so reminding me of the subtle pain I endured until I met Mitch and then my father.

But this ends for all of us now.

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