Work had flown by, and she’d had the most incredible successes. Thomas and Harry’s father was due to be transferred from the hospital to prison to await trial for killing their mother. He’d asked to see the children, but Jenny and Maisey and a host of other experts had successfully argued that it wouldn’t be in the children’s best interest.

Albi, who wasn’t known for sharing anything, had offered to switch rooms so that Harry and Thomas could be next door to each other. The move had taken less than thirty minutes because the children didn’t have too many belongings of their own. But the move had been enough for Harry to spend an hour in his room, reading a book he’d been sent home from school with. When asked if he’d like to try sleeping in there that evening, Harry had shaken his head violently. She’d discussed it with Simon and they were in agreement that they should let Harry transition into the room at his own speed.

She’d also spent her lunch break poring over the list of questions she’d begun to write for her father. One thing she’d realized from the experience was that she had buried so much of what happened. Tears had flooded out at the same rate as the questions. It had opened a dam of hurt that felt impossible to close and left everything feeling raw. Maisey had been incredible, though. She had called in a favor from a friend in the prison service who had been able to expedite the processing of the forms required to visit a prisoner. Now she had a visit planned on her day off the following week. Hopefully, Nik could come with her.

Maybe she’d ask him after he’d undressed her and taken in the new lingerie she’d bought from Victoria’s Secret. Yes, she might never live up to the supermodels in his little black book, but he’d never treated her like she was anything less than perfect since they’d reunited. Which said more about her than him. If he wasn’t making the comparisons or finding her lacking, why should she?

As she approached his house, she heard a screaming angry guitar blasting down the street. He’d talked about the soundproofed recording studio he was going to build in the basement, but she wondered if he knew just how far his sound currently carried. She stepped on the porch and rang the bell before shaking her head. Of course he wasn’t going to hear her.

Grabbing her phone from her purse, she called his cell phone. It rang and rang and then flipped to voice mail. She tried again, but the sound continued, and she noticed a couple of neighbors were shooting evil glares in the house’s direction.

Worried about Nik, she hurried around the back of the house and found the side gate open, as was the back door. Jenny let herself and ran up the stairs, listening for which set of rooms the sound was coming from. The music was haunting and violent, as if a guitar could literally call out in pain.

She pushed open the door to apartment four and found Nik with his back to the doorway. His shirt was off, and his jeans hung low on his hips. He was covered in sweat and playing his guitar as if his life depended on it. Lust flashed through her, leaving her aching for him.

The room had been emptied of furniture and half of its walls. Balls of paper littered the dark wood flooring. She reached down for the one closest to her and opened it. Handwritten music. While they were in Muskoka, he’d told her that for all the technology in the world, he still loved the old-school way of annotating music onto paper. She saw musical notes that ran in orderly lines, until they didn’t . . . until they turned into scribbles and a large X across the page.

Nik’s hair was tied back off his face, but it stuck to his back, and his movements were jerky. Without him saying a word, she could feel the pain he was in, could feel the chaos that surrounded him. As much as she wanted to tell him how the neighbors weren’t impressed with the music he was creating, she could feel the honesty of it and didn’t have the heart to stop him from seeking comfort in it from whatever had him so churned up inside. Instead, she leaned against the doorjamb and waited for him to burn through whatever he needed to.

She braced herself for the storm that had always followed when Nik had found himself in emotional turmoil.

It could have been minutes or hours before he finished—she had no clue—but he suddenly stopped, the reverb filling the room until he hit a pedal on the floor and killed the sound. Her ears buzzed, but she could still hear Nik breathing heavily.

“You should go,” he said between breaths without even turning around.

She didn’t ask how he knew she was there. “No. I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

“You deserve better than what I need, Jenny. Just go, please. I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, his voice gruff. He leaned his guitar against the wall.

Ignoring his request, she walked farther into the room. She allowed her fingertips to stroke his soaked skin from his neck to the curve of his butt, watching as goose bumps broke out over his biceps. Unable to resist, she pressed her lips to his shoulder blade, tasting the salt on his skin.

“What if I want what you need, Nik?” she murmured against his skin, her confidence growing as he inhaled deeply. “What if watching you play like that turned me on, seeing you so committed to what you were creating? What if being here for you is the most important step I can take to fixing what’s between us?”

Nik turned, and she was shocked by the look of pure sex on his face. His body was jacked, and, as she glanced down, she saw he was already hard. He was turned on, and she wondered if it was the music, the fact that he’d known she was there, or some other reason altogether.

Not that it mattered, because she was as aroused as he was, and this was only going to end one way.

“You want this?” he asked. “You want me how I am right now? Because I don’t fucking know who I am. Who this is.” He gestured up and down his body. “I just know that I need something to block all of this out.”

“Nik,” she said, placing her hand over his heart. “I want all the different parts of you. Keeping any of them from me is the same as keeping secrets. Show me. Show me this side of you. Take what you need from me. I can handle it. Please.”

He didn’t need telling twice. The sounds of buttons hitting the floor startled her as he ripped her blouse apart, leaving her exposed to him. His dark eyes devoured her for a moment before he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

Jenny shivered as he licked and then sucked the side of her neck aggressively before kissing it frantically.

Nik walked her backward until she slammed up against the wall. “Last time I’ll say it. Leave now.” His eyes were wild, his breath frantic.

She shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You had your chance,” Nik said as he turned her around and pushed her up against the wall.

His hand slid down her front, and he reached for the button and zipper of her jeans, opening both before he tugged them down to her ankles. Without allowing her to take her boots off so she could step out of her jeans, he pushed her legs as far apart as they’d go.

“You know what I want to do to you?” he breathed against her ear as his hands came up to massage her breasts firmly. “I want to push my fingers inside you and I want to be rough, Jenny. I want to feel you fucking my hand. I want to feel you grinding so fucking hard that your legs can barely hold you upright.”

Every part of her tightened deliciously as the fingers of one hand trailed down her stomach and slid into her underwear. Would he do what he said? Would he take her roughly? She knew she was turned on, could feel the telltale wetness. She wanted him to. To try it. To see if she liked it as much as she thought she would. As much as he needed her to.

And then she gasped as he did.

With little foreplay—which was unnecessary anyway—Nik slid one finger and then two inside her. “Fuck,” he groaned. “Yeah, just like that.”

His fingers set a punishing pace, but she gripped his wrist and held it in place anyway, blindingly thrusting her hips against his hand.

“Nik,” she gasped.

He lowered his other hand and ripped her underwear down to her mid-thighs.

She wanted to open her legs farther. Wanted to give him more access to what he needed so badly, but she was pinned by her jeans around her ankles and her panties around her thighs.

Nik changed the angle, and her legs began to buckle. “No you don’t,” he said, trapping his hand between her and the wall. “I need you on your feet. I am so not done with you.” He pressed his erection against her butt. “Once you come, I’m going to pull you back from this wall, make you bend over, and fuck you so hard from behind you aren’t going to remember your name.”

She looked over her shoulder and found his mouth. Their kiss was frantic, passionate, messy, and perfect. He smacked of desperation, and the urgency sent her over the edge. “Oh. God. Nik. Yes,” she groaned against his mouth.

His tongue found hers again, then he took her bottom lip between his teeth. With him still clothed, grinding into her from behind, he was forcing her to press against his hand.

The orgasm started from her very core, from where Nik’s calloused fingers rubbed her in just the right place. “Nik, I’m going to—”

“I know, Jenny. Give it to me. Show me how much you want what I can give you. Come all over my fingers. Soak them. Show me.”

And she did.

She exploded. Her vision blurred, her legs shook.

She wasn’t sure she could remain standing.

Before she could catch her breath, Nik dragged her ruined blouse down her arms and unsnapped the clasp of her bra. “Step back,” he instructed. His voice didn’t even sound like his own.

With her jeans still round her ankles, she shuffled her feet back until she could lean forward and place her hands against the wall.

“Fuck, I hope you’re ready for this,” Nik said.

She heard the pop of his button and the whisper of his zipper. With a glance over her shoulder, she could see that he had lowered his jeans just enough to free his erection, which was huge and angry. Never had she been so desperate to have sex with someone yet so scared about how she would feel afterward. How could she walk away from this? From him? Even though he had the power to break her all over again, she felt closer to him now than she ever had.

“I see you, Nik,” she said, giving voice to her own thoughts. “I see who you are right now.”

“Don’t,” Nik urged, but she could hear the waver in his voice. Before she could say another word, he lined himself up against her and pushed himself home.

* * *

Holy fucking shit.

He was a dick.

He was . . . no . . . he wasn’t. She’d said she’d wanted this. Begged him to take her.

He looked down at the two of them. Barely undressed, her movement constricted, and fuck if it didn’t make his dick even harder.

“I see who you are right now.”

To shake her words from his mind, he began to move. Long hard strokes as he held on to that perfect fucking ass of hers, slamming himself home so hard her hands slid against the wall.

“Oh. Yes.” Her words were punctuated by his thrusts.

Sweat poured down his forehead, and pain scorched his heart as he took everything she was willing to give and a whole lot more besides.

She deserves better than this.

God, no. He couldn’t go there. Couldn’t let his thoughts reconcile that the woman he was fucking up against the wall in a half-demolished house was his Jenny. Because even if he did, even as the thought destroyed him, he wouldn’t be able to stop the overwhelming need to take her. To have her. To finally show someone everything he’d been bottling up for twenty years, even though he didn’t know how to control it.

He bent forward and reached for her, pulling her up so she was standing, her back sliding against his sweat-soaked chest. Their height difference made it less than perfect, but those fuck-me ankle boots with stiletto heels brought her close enough to him that he could still thrust inside her while playing with those breasts he loved so much.

But even there, he couldn’t be gentle. He tugged on her nipples until she gasped and threw her head back against his shoulder, and then he kissed her neck. They were going to fall, so he pulled out of her and, despite the crass way he needed her, he lowered her to the floor gently.

Jenny placed her hand on his cheek. “Nik,” she whispered, her lips swollen from his kisses, her chin red from his stubble. Tenderness. Something he couldn’t deal with. At least not yet.

Quickly he tugged off her shoes, jeans, and underwear before removing his own. He should take her to his room, to the large bed and soft sheets, but somehow he didn’t want this, whatever it was, to sully the place he wanted to show her nothing but love. Instead he flipped her flat on her stomach and lay over the top of her, using one hand to keep the bulk of his weight off her, the other to guide himself back into her.

The extra friction from her ass cheeks had his balls tightening in no time, but he wanted her to come one more time. He slid his hand between her and the floor, ignoring the way the hard wood bit into his knuckles, and found her clit.

“I’m so fucking close,” he said between thrusts. “And I want to feel you come all over me as I join you.” He thrust hard. “You have me so wired, I’m going to fucking explode inside you.” They moved along the floor but didn’t give a fuck. “Take me over the edge, Jenny.”

Jenny turned her head to face him, and the look in her eye was all he needed. She was as close as he was. All it took was altering the angle slightly, and her mouth opened as she began to clutch around him, to squeeze his dick so freaking tight. “N-Nik,” she stammered, a tear escaping the corner of her eye.

“Jenny,” he growled as his spine tingled, and his balls tightened, and the bottom fell out of his world as an orgasm stronger than any he’d ever known roared through every part of him. He rode it out, milking every sensation from it, as his heart clutched in his chest.

Jenny.

Fuck, he was squashing the shit out of her on a wooden floor. His hand ached simply from being pressed against it beneath her. Carefully, he slid his hand away and lifted off her. “Jenny,” he said, brushing her hair back off her face. “Fuck, Jenny. I’m sorry.”

Loathing joined all the other emotions he’d felt today. Wasn’t it enough that he couldn’t find Lennon, that he hadn’t been able to reach him on his phone? Now he’d hurt Jenny.

His breathing became jerky as panic began to settle. Jenny still wouldn’t look at him. FUCK!

Nik stood and scooped Jenny up off the floor. “I’ve got you, babe,” he murmured through the stillness of the room. His body felt like it had gone ten rounds with Muhammad Ali, and he could only imagine how sore and bruised he’d left Jenny. He carried her upstairs to the new showers, which finally had doors on them, and was grateful that he’d asked Leo and the crew to leave early. The rest of the room wasn’t finished, but he could sit her down on the bench and tend to her. Thankfully, he’d already started to use it, and there were towels and toiletries on hand.

When he placed her down on the seat, he used his hands to brush the hair back off her face, devastated to see tear tracks down her face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t even know where to start in explaining this.”

Jenny shook her head, and ran her thumb over his bottom lip. “There is no need to be sorry, Nik,” she said softly. “You didn’t hurt me . . . I mean, not physically. But emotionally, I could feel everything you were feeling, and”—a single tear escaped and ran down her cheek—“I could feel how lost you were.”

Nik used his knuckle to catch her tears. Tears she was crying over him. For him. His heart was squeezed so tight he didn’t think it would be able to beat anymore. She should never have to do that. He was the strong one. He was the one who could be there for her, not the other way around. “I’m not worth your tears, but I’m . . . ‘touched’ is such a lame word, but I am. Let me take care of you, Jenny. Just sit there a minute.” He stepped up and turned on the shower, letting it run over his hand until it was hot, then turned on all the jets. Water came pounding down from above and from both sides of the shower. Nik reached for Jenny’s hand. “Come here,” he said, and backed under the spray as she followed.

They stood in silence, letting the water wash them both clean of sweat and sex.

Jenny turned her face up to his. “So what happened?”

“I told the band that I wanted some space, and somewhere between me doing a shitty job of explaining why and them taking everything I said the wrong way, the shit hit the fan and I’m not even sure I know how to repair it.” Nik reached for the shampoo and poured some into the palm of his hand before placing the bottle back on the shelf. He spread the shampoo between the palms of his hands and began to wash her hair.

Jenny tilted her head back and closed her eyes. There was something so incredibly intimate about the action, and for a moment he was grateful to the vision they’d had for this shower all those years ago.

“They are your brothers in every way that matters, Nik. And disagreements always happen. You’ll find a way to make it right, together.”

Nik wasn’t so sure. But they still had a tour starting in less than two weeks, and regardless of how they all felt about one another, it wasn’t something they could get out of. And even if they could, he cared enough about the fans and the music they had created together. It wasn’t that he hated metal. He didn’t. He felt tremendous pride about their back catalog, but he just wanted to perform something else. “For once, I don’t know what that looks like. I don’t know how you make it right when we all want such very different things.”

He nudged Jenny’s chin so that he could rinse away the shampoo for her hair, then began to wash his own.

“Why can’t you just take it one day at a time?” Jenny asked. “I mean, Elliott has a recording studio in his basement, right? And when the time comes around to make the next album, won’t yours be ready? Can’t you just agree to take some time and see how you feel? You know, nothing solid. Allow yourself to just wake up one morning and feel inspired.”

Nik sighed. “You’d think it would be that easy, wouldn’t you? But it’s not. We worked with the same producer for the last four albums, and you have to book his time. And the label needs time to promote ahead of release, and those kinds of things are done months in advance. I tried to explain to the guys that next year was going to be crazy for everyone personally. Engagements, weddings, babies, new houses,” Nik said, looking around the bathroom. “I want to be around if and when you finally move in here. I want us to have that honeymoon period of just being together and setting up house.”

Jenny reached for the shower gel and turned away from him as she soaped herself with her hands. “We have plenty of time to worry about that,” she said. “Let’s just stay focused on what happens between you and the band.”

An uneasiness settled over him. “Jenny, look at me please.”

She finished soaping herself and then allowed the shower to rinse her off before she turned. “No, seriously, it’s fine. Like you said, next year is pretty hectic for everybody. We don’t need to add additional pressure as to when we move in together. Plus, we need some time to—”

“I’m not expecting you to move in right away,” Nik said. “I get it, we need some time. But is that where we’re headed?”

Jenny swallowed and looked away from him. “Nik,” she said softly. “We can worry about us later.”

“Later? Like how much later? Not next year, the year after? Even before I knew there was a chance you could end up back in my life, I started to build a house for you. I see you in every room. The details on every architectural drawing are the ones we dreamed up long before we ever knew we’d be able to afford it.” Nik rinsed off and stepped out of the shower, tying a towel around his waist.

As Jenny turned off the shower and grabbed a towel, Nik tried to ignore the way the water ran in rivulets down the body he’d taken so viciously minutes earlier.

“You’ve known this all along,” she said. “You’re going off on tour, Nik. And I don’t—”

“Trust me? Right? You don’t think I get how fucking lucky I am to have you back. You don’t realize I’d move heaven and fucking earth for you.”

Jenny placed her hands on her hips. “Trust isn’t a fucking switch, Nik. You can’t just flip it. If that’s how it works, I would have done it that day we spent at the lake.”

“What does it mean to be sorry, Jenny? Tell me your definition, and I’ll spend my life living up to it. How will I know when I have been sorry enough for you?”

“Nik,” she cried out. “It’s not that simple, and you know it. I don’t have magical answers. I don’t know when the feelings of doubt will go away. If I could have wished them away, I would have stayed in that apartment and waited for you to come home and told you not to do it again. Because I loved you that much. I would have tried to forgive you. But I know the next time you’d gone out on a gig, I would have wondered who you were with and what you were doing with them. Instead, I left with nothing.”

“I wish you’d picked up when I called. We could have worked it through. Or you should have called me. We could have talked about it.”

“I DID! And when Lennon answered and told me, I knew it was true. Without his help, I—” Jenny gasped and cut herself off.

Lennon.

A roar of fury filled him. “What the fuck did Lennon tell you?” he growled.

“Nik. It doesn’t matter. It was all the truth. Don’t be mad at Lennon, he’s been a good friend. He—”

But Nik didn’t stay to listen to the answer.

* * *

Lennon fucking knew.

It buzzed through his brain as he pulled on clothes and jogged up the street to Elliott’s house. He knew his brother would still be pissed, but he needed his help to find Lennon. When he walked into the driveway, he saw Dred and Jordan’s cars, which meant they’d never left, but Lennon’s car was back in the driveway. Everybody was back here. Except him.

He let himself into the house, the home he’d lived in all those years with the band. It no longer felt like his. When he walked into the living room, they were all there, staring at him as if he were a nuclear bomb that was about to go off. Which he was. Because Lennon sat by the fireplace, not even having the decency to look up at him. For years, Nik had been the one who had protected Lennon, and now . . .

“Nik,” Dred said. “Look. Can we talk about this some more? We were just thinking through what you said about next year and—”

Nik ignored Dred and walked straight past him and stood in front of Lennon.

Lennon didn’t so much as look up.

“You fucking knew,” he snarled.

Lennon didn’t move. Didn’t say a word.

“All this fucking time.”

Jordan stood and placed a hand on Nik’s shoulder. “Calm down, Nik.”

Nik shrugged his hand away. “Fuck off, Jordan. This is between me and Lennon.”

Elliott stood, too.

What did they think they were going to do?

“At least have the fucking balls to stand up and look at me. Did you or did you not know where Jenny went? And have you or have you not kept in touch with her?”

Lennon shook his head, then stood. “Yeah. I knew. And yeah, I kept in touch with her.”

Ignoring the shocked responses of the others, Nik drew his fist back and hit Lennon square in the jaw. The move sent Lennon crashing into the side table, which collapsed beneath his weight. A small crystal vase fell into the fireplace, where it promptly shattered. Before Lennon could right himself, Nik fell on his knees on top of him. “Why the fuck would you keep that from me?”

Lennon tried to buck him off, a feeble effort, and Nik punched him again, harder this time. Blood appeared on the side of Lennon’s lip.

“Enough!” Jordan shouted as he and Elliott dragged Nik off Lennon. But Nik was nowhere near done. The feeling of having been betrayed by Lennon was almost more than he could handle. “I fucking looked out for you since you showed up at the home. When these guys wanted to get a different drummer, one who could tour with us before you were old enough, I was the one who argued to give you a shot, to keep you as one of us. Fuck . . .” he gasped, running out of breath as the sense of betrayal washed over him.

“Is it true?” Dred asked Lennon who sat on the floor with his arms flopped over his knees.

Lennon took a deep breath. “Yeah. It’s true. Jenny . . . she . . . fuck. It’s hard to explain . . . what Nik did was wrong, and she wanted to get away from him. She called once she’d seen the article, and you’d left your phone on the bus. She wanted to get away to think, so I gave her everything I had in my bank account to buy a car to get away to Ottawa. And then I’d periodically send her cash, which she always spent on the kids she was looking after.” Lennon shook his head. “She deserved better than you gave her, dude.”

“Why did you help her?” Jordan asked.

Lennon shook his head. “The why doesn’t matter, but she begged me not to tell Nik, to give her a chance to sort her head out.”

Nik shrugged out of Jordan’s hold.

“Nik,” Dred said. “This isn’t you. You don’t do crazy. You do thoughtful. You are the steady anchor.”

“Well, I’m fucking fed up of being everyone’s support system.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket and took the key to this house—his former home—off it and threw it on the ground by Elliott’s feet. “I don’t need this bullshit.” He walked to the door and yanked it open. “Especially when he can’t even be honest with me.”

“My sister’s name was Jennifer too,” Lennon shouted, the anguish in his voice palpable.

Nik looked over at the group who were all looking at Lennon as if he was a stranger. In all those years, he’d never mentioned a sibling.

Ever.

And he’d used the word “was.”

“Lennon,” Nik said, the anger he had felt only moment before beginning to dissipate. Yes, he wanted to try to get away from putting everybody’s needs above his, but this was too important. Whatever had happened to Lennon had left him with pain even greater than Nik’s own. “What happened to—”

“No, fuck you,” Lennon said angrily. “I’m not talking about her, so keep on going to wherever the fuck you were going.”

Nik studied Lennon’s face as he pushed the door shut. “You helped Jenny because she shared a name with your sister.”

Lennon ran his hands through his hair and nodded.

“And you said her name was Jennifer,” Nik asked quietly, walking back around to the sofa to stand at Lennon’s side. Lennon didn’t look up.

Dred moved to Lennon’s other side.

Then Lennon spoke so quietly that Nik could barely hear his voice. “You can’t leave me too, Nik.”

It felt as though Nik’s stage amps had fallen onto his chest, rendering it impossible to breathe, a simple inhalation out of the question.

Could he leave them? Really?

He looked around at them all, each one looking back expectantly—except for Lennon, who still stared at the floor.

Even though he knew how much Lennon struggled with physical touch, he placed his hands on his shoulders, ignoring the way Lennon gasped. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “But I need to rethink how I do all of this. How I balance it and manage it without letting you guys down. And there’s somewhere I have to go this afternoon to figure it all out. But I’ll be at rehearsal tomorrow, okay?”

Lennon nodded and then hugged him. It happened so freaking quickly that Nik only had time to register Lennon’s arms around him before they were gone. “I’m sorry,” Lennon whispered and then disappeared down into Elliott’s recording studio.

Elliott stepped up next and hugged him tightly. “Nothing you could ever do could let us down, brother.”

Nik swallowed deeply as Jordan stepped up toward him. “You fucking go off and do something stupid, I’ll have to hunt you down. You know I can’t deal with disappearing acts, right?” he said.

Nik nodded, choked by the pure acceptance from his brothers.

Then Dred stepped forward and threw his arms around him. “Thank you,” he said gruffly. “For saving all of us, Nik. It was never your job, but you did it anyway. I know you are doubting who you are right now, but you are the man who saved each and every one of us, and we love you.”

With pursed lips, Nik tried to get his emotions under control.

“Go,” Dred said, placing his house key back in his hand. “Go do what you need to. We’ll be waiting for you to get back, and then maybe we should sit down and have that conversation we started this morning.”

Nik watched them all disappear into the recording studio, and he was torn. Torn that he would miss the opportunity to have some direction, torn that they might need him to step in when it all got out of control. Torn that Lennon had just shared something so massive, something that had to have been eating away at him all those years and about which he’d never been able to talk to them.

He left the house and closed the door behind him. As he walked down the street to his own home, the reality of the conversation he’d had with Jenny in the bathroom hit him. He was asking the band for time to sort his own feelings out, to figure out who he was without the pressures of recording and touring. All Jenny was asking for was the same. Time to sort out her concerns over trusting him, time for the two of them to reconnect. Suddenly the race to the end, the two of them living together, married with kids, didn’t seem so important, as long as they were on the path to it, as long as there was just the two of them. As long they were taking steps toward the end goal, did it really matter how long it took to get there?

Nik jogged up the steps to the front door just as Jenny pulled it open. She was dressed, her wet hair in a bun, but none of that mattered. She was his, and he needed to stop worrying about whether she was going to leave him and just enjoy their time together. The thought shocked him. Subconsciously he’d been waiting for her to give up on him and leave, and in the process, he’d given her reason to.

“Are you okay?” she asked, placing her hands on his face as if inspecting him for injury.

He pulled her to him, savoring the feel of her against him, not in a sexual way, but in the way that brought him true comfort. “I’m okay. And before you ask, so is Lennon.”

She wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sorry, Nik. I’m sorry about my fears and doubts. I mean, every day they shrink a little more, but—”

“Don’t say ‘sorry’ to me,” Nik said, running his fingers through her hair. “I have somewhere I need to go, babe. There’s something I need to see to help me unravel all of this. But I’ll be home tonight, maybe tomorrow morning. I want you to stay here tonight, so we can talk when I get back. Will you do that for me, please?”

A light flurry began to fall, and Jenny shivered. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll be right here waiting for you. But drive safely,” she said, looking at the ominous sky.

Ninety minutes later, he found himself pulling off the 403 at the Brant exit. Ninety minutes where he’d ignored the ring of his phone and had focused only on the slick road ahead. Barely the first of December and wet slushy snow was falling to the ground, making it tough to see where he was going. It had been impossible to see Lake Ontario as he’d made his way along the highway.

Nik felt a tightening in his chest as he turned onto Mohawk Road. Family homes with cream siding stood on one side of the street, a tree-lined field on the other. His GPS told him he was at his location, and then he saw the large white sign:—WOODLAND CULTURAL CENTRE—and underneath it, its former name, MOHAWK INSTITUTE RESIDENTIAL SCHOOL. Nik parked his car and walked up to the large brick building, the one his grandmother referred to as “The Mush Hole.” The place his grandfather had held accountable for his hearing loss, having been repeatedly slapped over his ear when he’d tried to speak his own language.

He tried to imagine what the imposing building with a pointed gray roof and large balconies on the first and second floors must have looked like to small children taken from their families and communities. He imagined the feeling of fear his grandmother must have felt at age seven walking up the steps, being forced into a uniform, and having her hair cut so she matched the other kids.

A large blue sign with the title THE MOHAWK INSTITUTE told him what he already knew—that this school for children of the Six Nations Iroquois living on the Grand River was designed to assimilate students to the colonial way. What it didn’t mention was how they were brutally forced to learn English and move away from their own languages and cultures and traditions.

The pit sat heavy in his stomach as he thought through what his grandparents had been forced to endure. What his dad had endured living with the survivors of the residential school system. And he allowed himself to embrace the impact that it had had on his own family.

On him.

He allowed the energy of the place to flow through him. If his ancestors could survive this, then he would do everything in his power to survive his own demons. With his own music. With a house that was almost stripped to the bones, like him. With music that reflected everything going on inside.

With Jenny.