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“I didn’t know you were in a band. What do you play?” I ask, thoroughly intrigued.
“I wouldn’t really call it a band. More like a clutter of noise,” he replies, tongue in cheek. “I played guitar and sung.”
“What? No way. Samuel has zero musical talent. I’ve heard him sing in the shower and honestly, I thought two cats were getting slaughtered in there.”
A graveled laugh leaves Saxon’s chest. “I never said I was any good.”
“I bet you are.”
He cocks his head to the side and the movement causes his hair to tumble forward, masking one eye. “How do you know that?”
“I just do. You’ve got this air of mystery to you. I bet that helped write songs.”
When he falls quiet, I kick myself, as I hope he doesn’t take offense. I’m thankful when a dimpled smirk touches his cheeks.
“Air of mystery, I like it. It’s better than an air of disappointment.” When his tone turns sour, it’s not hard to guess why.
Taking a deep breath, I hesitantly ask, “Why don’t you and Sam get along? I’m sorry to pry, but there’s got to be a reason. I know he was a jerk to you growing up, but there’s something more, isn’t there?”
“There is,” he confirms, his jaw clenched.
The fact he doesn’t elaborate is my hint that he’s not interested in sharing what that reason is. I don’t want to spoil this moment, so I don’t press. Saxon will hopefully trust me enough one day to tell me.
“That’s it?” he poses when I remain silent. “You’re not going to ask me why?”
“I could ask, but I doubt you’ll answer, so why waste my breath?” I reply smartly.
“You assume correctly,” he counters playfully.
Saxon is so easy to talk to. It makes me wish that we spoke more when we were growing up. But I guess we both lived our lives and followed the paths we thought were the right ones to take. It’s hard to imagine where we would be if Samuel and Saxon actually got along. But I’m a big believer that everything happens for a reason. I have to remind myself of that as I see a dark figure emerging from the barn.
My mood instantly dampens and I exhale deeply. Saxon reads the mood shift and offers me a smoke. I chuckle, but decline.
Sam looks exhausted and he also looks filthy. I have no idea what he’s been doing, and I don’t bother asking, in fear of getting my head bitten off.
“Hey.” Samuel addresses both Saxon and me. I smile, exultant he said hi.
“Hey,” Saxon replies, rocking back in his chair. “There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
“Starved. I could eat a horse.” He looks at me and smirks. I’m thankful he’s making jokes.
I’m desperate to ask him about his session today, but don’t. The way he’s lingering, it appears he wants to talk to Saxon alone.
Sighing, I stand, wishing he’d want to talk to me. “Well, I’m going to bed.” Even though I just crawled out of it twenty minutes ago.
Sam looks relieved, while Saxon looks up at me, disappointed. He doesn’t ask me to stay, however. “Goodnight, Lucy.”
“Night, Saxon. Goodnight, Samuel.” I’m hoping he’ll say he’ll join me soon. But he doesn’t.
“Night, Lucy.” There is no love behind his farewell. He’s more interested in bumming a smoke.
I fall into bed, mentally exhausted and drained. I wonder how long it’ll be until Sam comes to bed? Or the better question is,ifhe comes to bed?
Rolling onto my stomach, I reach for his silken pillow and inhale his familiar fragrance as I draw it up to my nose. His scent was one that used to comfort me, but now, it just underlines the reality that I’ve never felt more alone.
* * * * *
I can’t sleep.
