Page 125 of Come Back to Me

Bennett pops up as I make to leave, but I dump him on Marty, figuring that’ll keep him busy enough to forget about Amy until the morning.

Because I’m in a mood, I pump out some angry tunes and drive home because I have zero desire to stay at the detachment tonight.

The only things that’ll put me in a better frame of mind, however, are a beer, a blowjob, or Tee playing her violino piccolo for an audience of one. With the former achievable where the latter two aren’t, I head into the kitchen once I’m through the front door.

Grateful that Mrs. Abelman isn’t in her usual stomping grounds, I snag a bottle of beer from the fridge then trudge to the den.

Settling in my usual spot where I can check out the vista—a view that Uncle Clay used to love—I try to relax.

But how am I supposed to?

The uncle who turned my brothers and I into the men we are today was potentially murdered by the fucker who fathered us.

How am I?—

The soft sounds of the violino piccolo trickle throughout the room.

My arm freezes mid-lift and I wait, allowing the music to settle in my bones. I rest the bottle on the side, kick up my feet onto the coffee table, and find some peace.

How did she know I needed this tonight?

Tee once wrote me about the instrument and told me that it sounded baroque. It does. But she doesn’t play baroque. Tonight, it’s some Daughtry, I reckon. At least, I think I recognize the song. Baroque rock, who knew that could be a thing?

I close my eyes, unaware that I’m falling asleep until I wake up an hour later with the sight of Paulie’s plane exploding in front of my eyes, as raw a memory as it ever was.

My muscles have recorded the blast’s effect on my own jet as I steered like a madman away from him.

The doctors say I don’t have PTSD because, as T once told me, I disassociate like a pro, but coming back home has definitely triggered something.

I never slept this badly when I was staying at The Depot during training with a bunch of other cadets that made a barnful of cows look quiet.

Swiping a hand over my eyes, I rear up and jolt again when I see Tee sitting in the armchair opposite me.

It’d be less creepy if she were sleeping too, but she isn’t.

She’s watching me.

Her lips pursed.

Eyes narrowed.

God, she’s beautiful.

I doubt she even knowshowhot she is.

“Do you have a request?”

The way she lifts the violino piccolo tells me she means of the musical variety and not the blowjob.

Clearing my throat, I rasp, “Have you ever heard the song ‘I Found’ by Amber Run?” I take her hum as a yes. “Can you play that?”

“I can play every song I’ve ever heard,” she counters, not even boasting.

The skill that takes has my eyes widening as she strides away from my couch, the violino piccolo under her chin as the wistful melody echoes through the space.

I don’t know why, but my heart pounds in time to the tune, and slowly, I sink back into the cushions, closing my eyes as I allow myself to relax…

The next time I wake up, she isn’t there. Dawn’s creeping into the den, and the lingering echoes of her music are only memories.

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