But my father hadn’t spoken to me in nine years. Until I’d walked into his home yesterday, I hadn’t heard his voice.
All because I’d refused his cage.
God, what I wouldn’t do for a drum kit for my sticks. I wanted to spend hours drumming out the anger and frustration. Because the only other thing that would help ease this resentment toward my father was a phone call with Nan.
Knuckles rapped on the front door before it opened and Graham stepped inside. “Just came to pick up Colin.”
“They aren’t back quite yet.” Dad waved Graham into the living room. “Come on in.”
As if I didn’t have enough emotional turmoil to deal with, I also got to put up with Graham. I aimed my eyes at the floor, not wanting to witness his glare as it burned into my profile.
“I’m glad you’re both here,” Dad said. “I was just about to tell Quinn, but I went through Nan’s last requests today. She’s outlined some specifics for the service, and she’s asked that you perform.”
A lump formed in my throat. “Is there something in particular she wanted me to play?”
“No, uh . . . sorry. Not just you. Together. She’d like you both to play together.”
“What?” My eyes whipped up to Graham leaning against the wall.
His shirt was damp with sweat and his jeans smudged with sawdust. If he was affected by the request, he gave nothing away. “No problem.”
No problem? This was a huge, damn problem. How was I supposed to play at my grandmother’s funeral beside Graham? Alone would have been hard enough.
Now avoiding Graham for the week would be nearly impossible.
And somehow, I had a feeling that was exactly what Nan had intended.
Chapter Four
Graham
“Heard you got roped into playing at Nan’s funeral,” Walker said as he positioned a two-by-four stud on the wall we were framing.
“Yeah.” I barked a laugh, driving a nail into place with the gun. Nan made my mother’s meddling look amateur. Hell, even after her death she’d made sure that the spoon in her pot was still stirring. “It’ll be fine. How are you holding up?”
He lowered his arm, nail gun in hand. “She was ninety-one, but . . . it feels like she was taken too soon.”
The same thought had crossed my mind the morning Mom had called to tell me of Nan’s passing. We should have had more time.
Nan had died in her sleep. There’d been no signs of failing health or diminished mental capacity. Nan’s mind had been as shrewd at ninety-one as mine was at twenty-seven—probably sharper.
But for Nan’s sake, I was glad the end of her days had come without pain or suffering. It was bittersweet, knowing it was exactly how she would have wanted to go. In the comfort of the home she’d lived in for over fifty years, surrounded by photographs of her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I was fortunate enough to have been a family member, Colin too, though our tie had been by love, not blood.
Nan Montgomery would be missed.
“I’m sorry.” I put a gloved hand on Walker’s shoulder. “If I can do anything, let me know.”
“Same for you. She was as much your grandmother as she was mine.”
My own grandparents had passed when I was young, and Nan had filled that void as I’d grown older. Mostly because I’d blended so well into the Montgomery family, much like Colin did today.
Walker and I had been best friends as kids, neighbors and buddies. Though he was two years older, the age gap hadn’t stopped us from playing together at recess or going to the same functions in high school. And where we’d gone, Quinn had followed.
The one and only time Walker and I had fought had been because of Quinn. One day, I’d noticed that our shadow wasn’t just another buddy, but a girl. A damn pretty one at that. Walker had seen the glint in my eye and had warned me away.
But it hadn’t done any good. I’d been too far gone.
It hadn’t been easy for Walker to accept that I’d had more than lusty intentions for his sister, but once I’d proved my motives were pure—mostly pure—he hadn’t stood in our way. He’d gone so far as to drive Quinn and me to the movie theater before I’d earned my driver’s license when we hadn’t wanted our parents to chauffeur us to a date.
Walker hadn’t bitched when my Friday nights with him had been cut short so I could spend time with my girlfriend. Though, he’d been too busy chasing girls of his own to mind when Quinn and I would disappear in my ramshackle and rusty Chevy.
It was Quinn’s fault that I’d had to sell that truck. I’d loved it, but she’d ruined it. There’d been too many memories in that cab to live with daily.
And it hadn’t been safe for a car seat.
“So . . .” Walker lifted his gun and set a nail. “How’s it seeing Quinn?”
“You tell me. She’s your sister.”
“She ghosted us.” He pounded a fist on the board to make sure it was secure, using a little more force than necessary. “And that’s not what I meant.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, adjusting the ball cap on my head to stall. Keeping Quinn locked away in a dark corner of my mind had been more difficult than I’d expected. I’d hit my thumb twice with a hammer this week, so distracted by her image that I’d lost track of my senses. “She looks good. Looks like she’s doing well.”
Walker raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not interested in starting things up with your sister. She’ll be gone again in a flash.”
Less than a week, if she left after the funeral as I expected her to do.
“I just want to get through this week,” I said. “Say goodbye to Nan.”
Say goodbye to Quinn.
Maybe after she leaves this time, I’d finally be able to send some old ghosts to their graves.
Quinn hadn’t been at her parents’ place this morning when I’d dropped off Colin. That, or she’d stayed away from the kitchen to avoid a run-in with me. Like yesterday, I’d been prepared to face her when I’d walked into the house. My expression had been schooled so she wouldn’t know just how much power she held over my emotions.
It had been wasted effort, which was probably for the best. I’d save my energy to guard against her this afternoon at rehearsal.
“I need to take off around four,” I told Walker. “That all right?”
“Fine by me. I’ll be dead by then anyway.” He rolled his shoulders. “I’m ready to be done framing this place.”
“Same.” I shot in the final nail, then went to the stack of boards to pick up another stud. Board after board, nail after nail, we worked side by side until my arm was a limp noodle and an early lunch beckoned a much-needed break.
Walker and I sat down on the subfloor and cracked open our lunch pails.
We were framing out a new build in the foothills of the Bridger Mountains. This place would be enormous when we were done, nearly ten-thousand square feet, and the cost of the windows and doors alone was more than I’d spent to buy my entire three-bedroom house.
On some projects, we’d subcontract out the framing, but since this project was our cash for the year, we were doing it ourselves, making sure it was perfect. Walker and I had started Hayes-Montgomery Construction four years ago and had made a reputation for ourselves in the area. We did high-quality work and delivered keys to homeowners on time. Normally, we came in on budget too because a satisfied customer meant referrals, and referrals were our bread and butter.