Page 8 of The Sound of Us

“You meet a lot of girls.”

“She’s different,” I said. “She knows music the way we do. She knew bands I’d never heard of. She was listening to Angerfist—”

Noah perked up at the name of the fringe band. “Was she wearing a hockey mask and a black hood? Did you hear her metal scream?”

“She was the opposite of an Angerfist stan,” I said. “She was… fun and sweet and loyal and… interesting. I’ve never had a conversation about music like that with anyone except you.”

“So where is this mysterious woman who captured the interest of a man who breaks more hearts than I break coffee cups?” He kept his tone light, but I knew Noah well enough to recognize the hyperfocus of his attention.

“Quinn was messed up at the gig again and said some stuff that scared her away.”

His shoulders slumped the tiniest bit. “So that’s it? No wedding bells?”

“Christ, Noah. I spent less than half an hour with her. I’ll probably never see her again.” Damn Noah for making me regret my decision to just let her walk away. He could always do that to me. A question. A word. And suddenly I would realize that what he’d just said was what I’d been thinking or feeling all along.

“So, pirate metal because of a girl?” Noah put his feet up on the desk. I could swear there was a dent in the wood beneath the mass of papers from countless years of refusing to sit up in his chair.

“That and the fact I just found out I have to visit my dad’s lawyer to discuss my grandmother’s estate.” I’d been putting off the meeting just like I’d been putting off reading the correspondence from my grandmother’s lawyers that had been piling up for over six months. Not just because I simply didn’t have the time or emotional energy, but also because I didn’t want to face the reality that the last family member who truly cared for me was gone. “I wouldn’t be surprised if my dad shows up and tries to convince me to join the family business again.”

“You’d be rolling in cash,” Noah pointed out. “More than enough to help out a struggling nonprofit radio station…”

“I want to help, Noah, but I don’t want that life,” I said. “It comes with a price tag I’m not willing to pay.” There was no way I would ever join the family real estate business that had been passed on from father to son for four generations. It was all going to end with me—the business, the legacy, the generations of trauma, and the family line.

My father had done something so unforgivable, I’d even changed my last name.

CHAPTER FOUR“Can I Call You Tonight” by DayglowSKYE

“You don’t look totally wrecked this morning,” Isla said when I walked into the kitchen Monday morning. She’d decorated the small space with brightly colored accents and added a vintage table and chairs to give it a cozy feel.

“Is that meant to be a compliment?” I hadn’t been able to sleep properly since the accident. Every time I closed my eyes, I was back in the car, pinned by twisted metal with my father lifeless beside me.

“Considering the dark circles I usually see under your eyes, that would be a yes,” she said. “That’s a good sign for your tryout today.”

“How was your night?” Scott had come over after his shift, somewhere close to midnight, but Isla was alone at the counter, which meant she’d kicked him out at sunrise.

“Nothing to write home about. He put on theBonerplaylist. You were right that it was a play on ‘Bone-her.’ He needed Mohawke’s ‘Cbat’ to get his game on, and I don’t think anything has turned me off more. Who wants to have sex to the sound of a squeaky door? I couldn’t get him out of here fast enough.”

Isla wasn’t one for sentiment. She didn’t like long mornings in bed or lingering hugs, and nothing disgusted her more than people wandering around in their pajamas after 8:00A.M.She hadn’t been that way when we’d first started living together in residence. Buta few months into our first year when she was alone in our room, someone broke in and sexually assaulted her. Isla hadn’t been able to see her assailant in the dark, so without a description, the police were unable to find him. The university managed to hush it up, paying Isla a nominal amount of money in exchange for her silence on the outrageous basis that she bore some responsibility for leaving the door unlocked.

It was a year before Isla felt comfortable enough to be alone with a man, and then only in her own apartment and only when her roommate was in the next room. Her hookups were never allowed to stay the night, and relationships were strictly off the table.

I grabbed a bagel and popped open a protein shake. Isla was a grazer and didn’t like to waste time cooking, but I needed regular meals when I was training to keep up my energy.

“I can’t imagine you’d write home about any of your hookups,” I said, checking my messages. Isla’s family was very religious. They assumed she was still praying every night before bed, going to church on Sunday, and avoiding temptation. They couldn’t have been more wrong.

“This is true.” She grinned, sliding a clip into her hair to hold back the mass of curls. “They still think I’m going to marry the preacher’s son.” She waved a hand over her crop top then down over her very mini mini-shorts. “Do I look like I was made to be a preacher’s wife?”

“Maybe a very progressive preacher?” I slathered peanut butter on my bagel and added a few slices of banana.

“No such thing.”

While Isla filled her lunch bag, I responded to the good luck messages from my mom and little brother. Jonah was a miracle child. My parents had adopted me after being told they couldn’t have children, but four years later Jonah was born. My father had been overjoyed, but his dreams of having Jonah follow in his footsteps were quickly dashed when Jonah was diagnosed with a heart condition that prevented him from participating in competitive and contact sports. My father channeled his disappointment byturning up the pressure on me, and the first few years of Jonah’s life were some of the most difficult of my childhood.

“Jonah says hello,” I said after we’d packed up. “You made a huge impression when you came to visit in summer. He still thinks you’re the coolest person he’s ever met.”

“He’s a great kid and very intelligent for a ten-year-old.” Isla preened in the mirror before closing the door. “I am pretty cool.”

After we were done, we walked through the building and onto the street. Isla, being Isla, had managed to find an apartment only a few blocks from campus in a leafy student-oriented area of the city. It was real estate gold, and I still couldn’t believe she’d managed to get it.

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