Page 184 of A Little Broken

I nod. “Yeah, Pax. Absolutely perfect.” Reaching onto my tiptoes, I kiss his cheek. “Honestly, I couldn’t have asked for a better destination.” I look around the church in awe. “It’s crazy, you know? How a single person can make such a lastingimpact on so many people’s lives. Like seriously, look at all of these people. They’re here to watch someone change a pipe on an organ so it can play a new chord in a song written by an experimental composer who was convinced that the experience of the song was more important than the actual song itself.” I shake my head. “It’s crazy, don’t you think?”

“Inspiring,” Pax decides.

Reverence spreads in my chest, and I squeeze his hand. “Yeah. Definitely.”

“Do you think any of them are ready?” he asks. “The locals. They’ve experienced the same note for almost two years. Do you think they’re ready to experience something new?”

I consider his question and the weight it holds. There’s something comforting in the familiar. I should know. I was too stubborn to pull myself out of the destructive rut I was in for years until I met Pax. And it’s crazy to think about it. How much time I spent drowning in sadness and resentment. I still miss Archer. I always will. But there’s something healing in it, too. In letting go. In accepting change instead of fighting it. In learning to appreciate the new sound while accepting how much you’ll miss the old one.

“I guess we’ll see,” I whisper when a woman appears at the edge of the audience.

Slowly, she walks through the crowd and removes the rope barrier separating everyone from the organ. Methodically, she slides gloves on as an older gentleman speaks to the attendees in German. I don’t know what he’s saying. I can’t understand him. But even if I could, I’m not sure I’d be able to take my eyes off the woman as she carefully picks up a pipe resting on a white cloth on top of the organ. The man goes quiet, and the woman nods at him, approaching the organ once more. Sliding the pipe into place, the chord changes, and a wonder-filled hush blankets the church except for the beautiful new chord ringing throughout.Like a wave, it rolls over me, and I close my eyes, committing it to memory. The sound. The feeling. The acceptance of change and all it brings with it.

“How long have you been planning this?” I whisper.

“Since the moment I told you about the song.” He glances at the organ again, then looks down at me and cups my face. “Listen, I know I’ve given you this speech a few times, but, uh, let me do it one more time, yeah?”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, trying to keep my voice low so I don’t disturb any of the other attendees.

Instead of answering me, Pax reaches into his pocket and retrieves a little black box, making my heart stall in the process.

Holy shit. If that’s what I think it might be, I’m going to pass out. Or vomit. Or vomit, then pass out. Honestly, anything’s possible considering the circumstances.

“I love you, Birthday Girl,” Pax murmurs. The slight rasp of his voice mingles with the low hum of the organ, making me weepy but in the best way possible. “I love your loyalty. I love your heart. I love your sass and your wit. But most of all, I love how deeply you love. How you let it consume you, even when it’s scary or reckless.” Keeping me tucked into his side, he opens the box and kisses my temple. “I love you so much, and I’m really hoping you’ll do me the favor of giving me the rest of your life to keep loving you. To keep showing you how much you mean to me. How you’re my everything.” A sheen hits his eyes as he exhales slowly. “Will you marry me, Birthday Girl?”

I stare at the gorgeous diamond ring tucked inside the box and all it signifies. “You’re doing this here?” I whisper.

“Not sure there’s a better place to do it.” He faces me and takes the ring out, reaching for my left hand as my stomach knots and my vision blurs with unshed tears. Rubbing his thumb along the back of my hand, he slips the diamond into place and brings it to his lips. “You’re the only one for me, Tate. And Iknow Archer is some pretty steep competition, but I’m pretty sure I’m the only one for you, too. I want to make it official. Will you marry me?”

Marry me.

After Archer’s passing, I was pretty positive I’d never want to hear those words. Not from anyone. But seeing Pax? The love and devotion and reverence in his pretty brown eyes? It blankets me in so much peace and assurance, I don’t even have to question it. My feelings or my answer. Obviously, there’s only one.

“Yes.” With a watery smile, I lift my chin, and he kisses me again, making me the luckiest girl in the world.

Thumbing the worn pages,I open the same notebook I’ve carried around for years. After the pipe change, we ate dinner at a restaurant down the street, drank another bottle of wine, then came home and made love before Paxton fell asleep. And even though I said yes, and meant it with every fiber of my being, there is still something I need to do.

The tip of my pen hovers over the page for a solid minute, my eyes welling with tears as I press it to the paper.

Archer,

Hi. It’s been a minute. Not since I’ve thought about you. I still think about you every day. Still wonder if a piece of you is out there. Watching over us. In the beginning, when I started seeing Mav and Ophelia and…everyone really, moving on, Ithought that because they didn’t appear heartbroken, they didn’t think about you anymore. Didn’t miss you anymore. But now that I’m here, I see how wrong I was. How unfair I was. To them. And to myself. And to you. Like you’re so easily forgettable, am I right? Not even close.

I want you to know I’m happy. It’s taken me WAY too long to recognize that I can be happy while still missing you. I didn’t understand it before, but I do now.

If you are out there somewhere watching over me, you’ve probably caught a glimpse of two—or a billion—of me with Pax. He’s pretty great. Super patient and understanding. You’d love him. I know you would. You’d approve, too. Of how he treats me. I don’t know if you sent Pax to me, but if you did, thank you. And if you didn’t, well, still thank you. He won’t replace you. No one can replace you, Archer. But he does make me happy.

When I was in the church today, I couldn’t help but wonder if you were watching me. If you were there, hidden in the song. I can’t wait for you to watch the rest of my life unfold and all of the note changes to go with it. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll be able to listen to the completed piece together. As. Slow. As. Possible. But until then, I'll keepwriting my own song, grateful for every note that comes my way and how it shapes who I am.

Love always,

-Tate

HIJACKED EPILOGUE

JAXON

Let’s back up a bit, shall we?

---