Page 6 of Chronicles of a Rockin' Mess

“What was that?” I ask.

He turns to me. “Sorry,” he states again.

“Maybe a little louder?” I suggest.

I see him fight a grin. “I’m sorry, Lark, the best PA in the world!” he shouts.

I laugh. “Forgiven,” I sing. He laughs and looks back out at the city.

“Carrie would have loved it here,” he says softly.

I’m momentarily taken aback because he almost never mentions his kid sister. She remains sort of an enigma. I know his parents didn’t take her death well. They don’t speak of her often either.

“You don’t talk about her often,” I point out.

He shrugs. “Not much to say. She’s dead,” he says, turning back to me.

“Were you close?” I ask him.

“Yes,” he answers.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“It was a long time ago.”

“Still, it must have been very hard for you,” I tell him.

“It was,” he says with a pause. “She was…very special…beautiful, funny, smart…so smart.” He’s quiet for a long moment, as though remembering something. “She’s the reason I turned to music, you know?”

I shake my head because, in the three years that I’ve known him, he’s never said this much about her.

“She played the piano, and I played the guitar. We used to jam together. When she got sick, she would make me bring the guitar to the hospital and sing for her. She made me promise to never stop singing because she said it was my destiny,” he remembers. A faint smile ghosts his lips but his eyes are so very sad.

“And you didn’t stop because of her?” I prod.

“I did. But then a year after she died, I had this dream…” He trails off.

“About?” I ask him, placing a hand over his.

“She came to me and told me I’d better fucking start playing again, or she would haunt my ass forever,” he says with a bitter laugh. “The next day, after not playing, I came into my room and my guitar case was open. I decided then and there, I better get on it, or Carrie would never rest in death. So, I got back to playing. Something about it was…therapeutic. And once I started, I couldn’t stop.”

“Music is good like that, for healing the soul,” I say to him.

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” he agrees. I look at him one last time. I can see the pain in his eyes. Lincoln is a broken man, and I would love nothing more than if he let me try to fix him, but I know he would never look at me like I look at him. I sigh internally, why couldn’t I just fall for a nice guy like Kade?

We both look back out at the city before turning and heading back to the hotel. We’re about to step toward the pathway into the park when I notice a car with a group of teenagers next to it. The car is…shaking.

I notice feet pressed against a window, and I cover my face as I laugh. I nudge Lincoln, and he looks over just in time to see a hand join the foot on the window. He busts out laughing.

The teenagers standing by the car glance in our direction, and for some reason, we take off running. We don’t stop until we reach the front of the park, where we collapse against a wall in a fit of giggles.

I bend over with my hands on my knees. “Oh my god, were those kids waiting for their friends…” I trail off as I laugh some more.

“I think so,” Lincoln says as he wipes tears from his eyes.

“In broad daylight!”

“It gives a whole new meaning to don’t come knocking if the car is a rocking,” he says through laughter.

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