Wethering the Storm

“Yes.” I nod, pushing my phone back into the pocket of my shorts.



“What you doing out here alone?” he asks.



Looking away, I shrug. “Just taking in the scenery.”



“It is beautiful.”



When I turn back to him, I find his eyes on me.



“Come with me,” he says, standing. “I’ve got something I want to show you.”



Jake pushes open the door to the library and leads me through.



In the centre of the room I see a piano. A stunningly beautiful black piano.



“Is that a Bösendorfer?” I ask, taking a tentative step toward it.



Owning a Bösendorfer was my ultimate dream when I used to play. Jake knew that.



“It’s a 290 Imperial,” he says softly from behind me.



“Wow, it’s beautiful.” I run my fingertips over the casing.



“It’s yours.”



I step back, away from the piano.



“I thought you could start playing again.”



“No…I, um…” I shake my head. “I haven’t played in a really long time, Jake.”



“Your dad said you stopped playing right after I left.”



He did?



“My dad talks too much.”



“Why, Tru?”



“I dunno.” I shrug. “He just does.”



“No.” Jake smiles, coming over to me. “Not why does your dad talk too much. Why did you stop playing after I left?”



I feel a flood of emotion rush through me, all that bottled-up pain I’ve carried around for all these years hitting the surface, causing my skin to prickle and my mouth to work of its own accord.



“Because your leaving broke my heart, Jake, and when you cut off all contact, what was left of my heart shattered. Music was always our thing, and it just hurt too much to play without you. And then one day, not long after you were gone, I just couldn’t bring myself to touch the keys. When you left…I guess the music left with you.”



Jake wraps his arms around me, crushing me to his chest. “Fuck, Tru,” he chokes out. “I’m so sorry I left you.”



“You were fourteen, it’s not like you could have stayed.”



I’m seriously fighting back tears here. One wrong word from him, and I’m envisioning a teenage-style sobbing session.



“No, but I could have kept in touch. I should have kept in touch. I was such a stupid, selfish fucker back then, so fucking angry, and I couldn’t see past my own pain at losing you. I never thought how cutting you off would affect you. I should have come back to you the moment I turned old enough to leave home, and all those years since.”



“If you had, then the world would have missed out on the Mighty Storm. Everything happens for a reason, Jake.”



“I just wish that reason hadn’t meant twelve years without you. I fuckin’ hate that you stopped playing the piano because of me. I want you to have this back, Tru. I want you to start playing again.”



“I don’t know.” I shake my head, moving from his tight embrace. “It’s been so long since I last played, I might have forgotten how.”



“You couldn’t forget. You’ll be rusty, but it’ll still be there. You are an amazing player, Tru. Natural talent like yours doesn’t just disappear.”



I gaze up at his face.



“Try, for me? Please.”



How can I say no to him? Especially when he’s giving me the puppy-dog eyes.



“Okay,” I concede.



The smile he gives me nearly cracks me wide open.



I take the seat at the piano and let my rusty fingers hover over the keys.



“I don’t know what to play,” I say, feeling self-conscious, pulling back my hands.



“I bought you some sheet music,” Jake says, retrieving some music books off a shelf. “You know, just in case you needed them,” he adds, handing the books to me.



“Any of yours in here?” I tilt my head toward the books.



“No.” He grins, leaning against the piano. “I made sure they were clean before I bought them.”



“What if I wanted to play one of yours?”



“Then I’ll teach you. First, play me something from one of these.”



I sift through the books and opt for the modern music one.



Opening up the pages, I flick through to the first song and almost laugh. My Adele ringtone.



I wonder if he knew that was in here.



Setting the book up on the piano, I read over the music, refreshing my memory with the notes. I surprise myself at how easily I can read the music.



Jake was right when he said I wouldn’t have forgotten.



I position my left hand over the keys, reading to play a C minor for four beats, then G minor with my right for two beats, then shifting to B-flat and G minor.



Okay, deep breath…here we go.



Crap, I’m playing and…it feels surprisingly good. Great, in fact.



I close my eyes briefly, just feeling the keys beneath my fingers, and in that brief moment, Jake starts to sing quietly along, and I’m transported back to a whole other time and place.



Opening my eyes, I see him smiling at me. He’s wearing the kind of happiness I haven’t seen on his face for twelve long years. Seeing him looking at me this way makes me fall into the music even more, and then it’s like I never stopped playing.



“I’m going to have a bath,” I holler down the long hall to Jake, who is in the living room.



“You want some dinner ready when you’re done?” comes back his reply.



“You gonna cook?”



“I’ll order in, smart-ass.”



Holding back a laugh, I reply, “Then, yes, please.”



I head into our bedroom, then the en suite, and turn the taps on our new, never-before-used bathtub.



Searching through the cupboard where all my toiletries have been stored, I find my bubble bath and pour some under the running water.



The movers finished a few hours ago and have long since left.



Stuart’s in his new abode, getting himself set up. So it’s just Jake and me in the house together, all alone.



Being alone with Jake is a big thing for me, as it doesn’t happen often. Now that we’re living together, though, just him and me, T&J alone time is going to happen often.



The thought sends a thrill through me.



Turning the taps off, I set the music system in the bathroom, selecting the new Killers album. I’m currently having a love affair with it, especially the song “Miss Atomic Bomb.” I pull my clothes off, dropping them into the hamper; tie my hair into a loose knot; then submerge my body in the bath.



The scent and heat envelop me.



Heaven.



I close my eyes and rest my head back.



I wake with a start. Glancing at the clock, I see I’ve been asleep for just over half an hour. Figuring dinner will be here by now—and I’m more than ready to eat, according to my rumbling tummy—I let the water drain and climb out of the bath.



Wrapping a fluffy bath towel around myself, I turn off the music and go into the bedroom to change.



I put on my favourite pair of comfy jogging bottoms and my TMS T-shirt that I got from the European leg of the tour.



Making my way down the hall, I hear music. Jake’s listening to our song, “You Started.”



I turn into the living room and find him waiting for me.



He smiles, getting to his feet. I glance at the scene around him.



My skin tingles. The sensation vibrates through to my heart.



Set out on the coffee table are open cartons of Indian takeaway food. No plates or cutlery, just plastic forks. A bottle of white wine is open and waiting. No wineglasses.



Scattered all around the room are empty cardboard boxes.



“Did I get it right?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.



“You heard what I said to Simone?”



He shrugs. “I know things in my life are a little different from what you’re used to. I thought because you didn’t get a normal moving day, I would give you a normal first night in our new home.”



“And the boxes?”



“For effect.” He smiles, and his eyes sparkle under the lighting. “They work?”



“Absolutely.”



“You hungry?”



“Very.”



But now I’m not so hungry for the food, just hungry for him.



“You wanna try that new bed out?” I suggest.



“Abso-fucking-lutely.”



The next thing I know, Jake’s body is slamming into mine, picking me up, carrying me down the hall to our bedroom.



He lays me down on the bed, hovering over me, propped up on his hands.



“I love you,” I whisper to him, in the dark. “Thank you for what you did out there. And for the piano. Thank you for all the wonderful things you do for me.”



He stills for a long moment, staring down at me, a blank expression wearing his face. I wonder what’s going through his mind.



“There isn’t anything I won’t do for you, Tru. Nothing I won’t do to make you happy. What I feel for you…it’s limitless. There is nothing before or after you. There is only you.”



I choke up with emotion.



I lift my hand to his face, tracing my finger over his cheek. “When we get married, say that to me as your vow.”



He nods, and leaning down, he presses a light kiss to my lips.



A sigh escapes him. “I know I’m not the best choice for you.” His words move over my lips. “I know I fuck up a lot, but I promise I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”



“You already make me happy all the time. Are you happy?”



Lifting his head, his dark eyes stare at me. “Like I never knew possible.”



Then he closes his eyes, almost as if he’s in pain. Like at some level, it’s actually painful what he feels for me. I understand that, because I feel it too.



“Jake?”



His eyes open to meet mine.



“Make love to me?”



Fulfilling my request, he does just that. Making love to me like tonight is the start. Like Jake and I have finally started.



CHAPTER SIX



I’m at the point of banging my head against my laptop screen when Adele starts singing to me.



Glancing down I see Jake’s name flashing. The smile it brings to my lips stays there as I answer it. “Hey, baby.”



“How’s it going?”



“Not good. You’re incredibly hard to write about, you know.”



“But incredibly easy to love.”



“Well, yeah, but that’s only because you have a big willy,” I joke.



“Cock, baby. Call it cock, or dick. I’ll even swing for snake. But not willy. Willy just sounds so wrong, on so many levels.”



“No it doesn’t! It’s a British term. Have you forgotten those altogether?”



“No, but that’s one I will gladly forget.”



I hear voices in the background.



“Are you with someone?”



“I’m in the studio with the guys. Zane’s here.”



“You just said ‘cock,’ ‘dick,’ and ‘willy’ in front of them.” I groan.



He lets out a loud laugh. “They’ve heard me say worse, baby, trust me.”