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It was too much.
“Everything I’ve done since Leighton told me she was pregnant was for them. I carried the load. I kept us in the spotlight,” he bit out, trembling with emotion. “Why didn’t you tell me they didn’t want to keep making music?”
“Your sister made me swear I wouldn’t say anything until after the three of you made the rock album. By then, she would have had everything for the school in place.”
“They wanted to trick me? To make a fool of me?” he rattled off.
“No, they loved you. They wanted to show you what was possible beyond singing in stadiums. They wanted this center for Aria. They didn’t want their daughter to struggle the way you struggled. And they wanted you to help them run it.”
They wanted him?
That was insane.
They knew about his learning problems. For Christ’s sake, they’d helped him hide his shortcomings.
But just as the damning thought crossed his mind, he recalled filling in for Bonbon Barbie as Landy Candy. That joyful recollection almost cleared the haze of anger and betrayal. But that was a single lesson—a lesson where he’d regurgitated one of Harper’s sessions that he’d overheard her do with Aria.
He couldn’t teach on a regular basis. What if a kid wrote him a note? What if a student cracked open a music book and pointed to something? What if he had to write on a blackboard?
“What did they think I could do in a music school?” he mumbled. “Take out the trash? Clean the windows?”
“They wanted you to be an equal partner. They believed in you,” Mitzi answered.
A muscle ticked in his jaw at the mention of that word.
Believe.
“There’s a folder in the glove box,” Mitzi said and pointed to the compartment in front of him. “Leighton emailed their business plan to me on the way to the airport. She wanted me to work on the legalities of opening a center.”
He removed the folder and glared at it. “It’ll take me hours to go through it.”
“No, it won’t,” she countered. “It’s printed in OpenDyslexic font.”
And the bombs kept dropping.
“How do you know about that?” he demanded.
“My friend volunteers at a school that uses it and told me about it.”
He wasn’t even about to open that can of worms. Instead, he opened the folder, and Mitzi was right. He could read it. He skimmed the first line as the SUV came to a stop.
Aria’s Song Music Center
He traced his fingertips across the page. Leighton and Trey had outlined an entire program working with children from grade school to high school. From recruiting teachers to referencing articles on teaching music to neurodivergent learners, his sister and Trey had thought out the entire process. There was no doubting this was important to them.
He closed the folder. “Why tell me now, Mitzi?”
She cut the ignition and held his gaze. “Because you’re at a crossroads. Because you need to think about what you really want in this life. People come and go, Landon. Some breeze in and out unnoticed. Others make an impact and change everything. Trey and Leighton came to that crossroads when Aria entered their lives. They knew what they wanted. But their dreams were cut short.”
He closed his eyes. “What do you want me to do now?”
Bam, bam, bam, bam!
“Sign my shirt!” came a screeching voice, followed by another set of poundingthunks.
He startled and stared out the passenger window at a woman with her nose pressed to the glass.
“Landon Paige, sign my shirt,” she shrieked and banged a marker against the glass.
