Page 72 of Free to Believe
“You can just stop by the local brewery for a pint?”
“Pretty much.”
“Not a bad setup,” I agree.
“Not at all. Only thing is they’re only open till about seven.”
“Why’s that?” I’m curious.
“No idea,” he admits. “But I’ll take the trade-off since I get year-round. You up for sticking around for a while? There’s a great band playing this afternoon.”
I grin. “And we all know music’s the way to your heart.”
His eyes hold mine steady when he replies, “One of them, Em.”
“Jake…” My voice is choked. I grab for my beer and take a long drink, but I can’t let go of his eyes even over the rim of his glass.
He lets out a slow breath. “Anyway, this band has a female singer whose voice could blow the leaves off the trees.”
Wow. “That’s mighty high praise coming from you.”
“I wanted Brendan to hear her sing, but he had to leave before they played here again.” His frustration is evident.
“What about recording the event?”
He points to a sign tacked in the trees.No recording of live performances without explicit permission of owners.
I reach across the table. “Why don’t you?”
His brow lowers. “That would mean giving up…”
“Any anonymity you get to enjoy on the island,” I finish.
He nods. “Even though a few locals know, since it’s been our haven for a long time, most don’t connect us with Dani’s success. It’s not her permanent residence, and very few people know she owns it. But, now we’re living here full time. I don’t know what kind of impact that will have on Jenna…” His voice trails off.
“You’re not sure what kind of effect it’s going to have on her at school,” I conclude.
“Exactly. Dani bought the house here when Jenna was just a baby.”
“She was just starting out in the business then,” I muse.
He nods. “And the first thing she did was buy this house. We used to come here as a family—her parents and mine—as kids. We’ve always loved it here.”
“I love that you had that,” I tell him softly.
His hand shoots across the table. “Will you ever tell me what your childhood was like?” His eyes are hidden behind his mirrored sunglasses, but I can feel their intense focus.
I can’t stop the words from rising to my lips. And after they’re out, I wonder how much they’ll matter if he understands this small part of me. “I was an orphan. My parents were killed when I was seven.”
His hand squeezes my hand so hard, I’m afraid he’s going to break my fingers. “Jesus, Em. Accident?”
I pick up my drink and swallow a large drink before I choke out, “No. Murder.”
Jake surges out of his chair. The next thing I know, I’m being pulled from mine into his strong arms. My face muffled against his chest, I whisper, “I can’t…don’t like to look back. It’s…difficult.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine how the six of you survived.” I don’t correct his misconception that we’re all biologically related. It’s hard enough to share this monumental piece of myself. And I shouldn’t even have done that.
“It wasn’t easy.” There’s an understatement for the record books. “But we’re family. We’re strong and through whatever trials are tossed our way, we fight through them. For strength, for pride, and for love.” Turning away, I grab my glass of beer and take another drink, needing the cool slide of liquid to release the tightness of my throat before sitting back down.
