Divided Road (The Road to Rocktoberfest 2024)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Owen finger combed his hair again, but the errant curl sticking up at angles refused to lie flat. He sighed and glanced in the mirror in a last-ditch effort to reassure himself that it didn’t look that bad.

He was being ridiculous. Jared was coming around to try out some new harmonies for some of Owen’s songs. This wasn’t a date, and besides, as he’d reminded Lincoln, Owen wasn’t looking to date again.

Not for a long time, if ever.

Jared being hot didn’t factor in. Owen’s last two dating attempts had been gorgeous, yet their looks hadn’t been enough to save their relationships.

Dark hair, pale skin, and green eyes. Jared had filled out since that party all those years ago and was no longer a skinny high school kid. He’d put on muscle and height, now standing a fraction taller than Owen.

Deb and Mike both had dark hair and light-coloured eyes. Blue, though, not green.

A coincidence. Totally.

He walked out to the kitchen, checking that the scones he’d scrounged off Brigit at the Strawberry Scone were still fresh and that he had plenty of milk for tea. Or coffee.

The coffee machine spluttered, reminding Owen that Jared didn’t drink coffee.

Fuck, he was losing it.

They were getting together to make music.

“Bach,” he called, retrieving the cat’s biscuit container from the pantry and shaking it. “Food time!” Better to get feeding her out of the way before Jared arrived, although Bach wasn’t shy in reminding anyone that it was her dinner time.

Owen shook the container again. Where the hell was she? She couldn’t have gone far. Despite her being an indoor cat, his house was big enough for her to roam and find hiding places. Frowning, he checked her regular spots, but couldn’t find her.

His heart started to race. Surely, she had to be somewhere. He sprinted into the laundry, his heart sinking at the half-open window over the washing machine. He’d shut that and fastened the lock. He knew he had.

“Bach! Here, girl, here kitty.” Owen leaned over the washing machine, and pulled at the window fastening, slamming it shut. He pushed at it, and it opened again. Damn it. He’d have to replace it. That must have been how she’d escaped.

The doorbell sounded. Owen strode to the front door, hoping to see someone holding his errant cat.

Instead, Jared stood there. “What’s up?” he said immediately.

“My cat’s escaped.” Owen filled him in quickly. “Sorry, I need to look for her first. She’s not used to being outside, and hasn’t enough sense to stay off the road.”

A huge truck rumbled past. A chill went up Owen’s spine. What if he was already too late?

“You’ve checked the house?” Jared stated the obvious.

“First thing I did.” Owen stepped to one side to let Jared in.

“I’ll help you look.” Jared dumped his backpack under the coat rack. “If we split up, we might find her sooner. Is there a window she loves looking out of? Perhaps her dash for freedom has led her there?”

“I think she got out the laundry window.” Owen led Jared out the front door and round the side of the house. “The catch needs fixing, or so I just found out. She’s pushed it open.”

“Duct tape will fix it until you get it changed.” Jared strode over to the window, pulled it open as far as it would go, and then peered inside. “Owen, what does your cat look like?”

“Bach’s a grey tabby.” Owen held out his hands to show her size by the distance between them. “About this big. She’s a friendly thing, loves everyone, and shows it by shedding over them.”

“And also has a fondness for laundry?” Jared glanced at Owen, his mouth turning up in amusement. “Come look at this. I can see a grey tabby tail sticking out of your laundry basket. If that’s your cat, she’s buried herself in a pile of towels.”

“Bloody cat.” Owen got up on his toes so he could look inside. Immediately, a familiar furry head poked out over the basket and made a meowy sound, the one that usually meant she wasn’t impressed he’d disturbed her. “I swear she wasn’t in there before.”

“Perhaps she was outside and jumped back in while you were looking for her?” Jared ran his fingers over the edge of the window, wiping off a good amount of fur. “There’s a build-up on the wood. She might have been doing this for a while.”

Owen narrowed his eyes. “Bloody cat,” he repeated. “God, sorry, I feel like an idiot now. Come in and I’ll find some tape for the window, and make you a cuppa.”

“Don’t. Feel like an idiot, that is.” Jared pushed the window shut. “My sister has a tabby, and we spent a couple of hours last summer looking for him, only to find that he’d discovered a comfy spot in her hot water cupboard and settled in for a nap.”

“I have an outside tank, or I’m sure Bach would have tried that already.” Owen stepped back to get out of Jared’s way. “She loves laundry.”

“So does Dolce.” Jared grinned and followed Owen around the house to the front door.

“Cool name for a cat.” Owen shut the front door firmly behind them, having left it open in case Bach wandered back inside.

“He’s a sweet old thing, most of the time, hence the name.” Jared picked up his bag. “I’m guessing you named Bach.”

“Yeah, and you, Dolce?” Owen loved that they both had cats named for music.

“Yeah, although I’ve had to explain his name a few times. My sister wasn’t a fan to start with, but I talked her round, and now she loves it. I lived with her for a while when we were setting up the business, so he’s both of ours or rather we’re both his people. I didn’t think taking him from his home when I moved out was fair, so he stayed. I visit a lot, though.”

Owen put the kettle on to boil and searched the kitchen drawer for tape. “Is Earl Grey okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Jared deposited his bag by one of the bar stools tucked into the breakfast bar. “Do you need some help taping your window?”

“I’ll be fine.” Owen retrieved the tape, scissors, the tea bags, and a couple of cups from the pantry. “Won’t be a moment. I’m having coffee, but help yourself to the tea.”

“It’s okay. I’ll wait.” Jared settled on the barstool. “Yell out if Bach makes another break for it.”

Owen nodded, already thinking about how to secure the window. When he entered the laundry, Bach looked at him and meowed. He dropped to his knees, picked her up, and cuddled her. “You gave me a fright, you silly thing. I thought I’d lost you.” She made a chirpy noise and butted her head against his shoulder. “You can’t go wandering out like that. You might get hit by a car!” He reluctantly put her down to fix the window, standing back to examine it when he was done. The job was rough, and the catch definitely needed replacing, but it would do for now. “No more excursions for you, my sweet.”

By the time he returned to the kitchen, Jared was by the window looking outside at the back garden. He turned when Owen re-entered the room. “No more great escapes?”

“If she’s discovered another way out, I haven’t found it yet.” Owen re-boiled the kettle. “Is your sister a musician too?” He re-started the conversation where they’d left off.

“No, Brigit runs our business.” He grinned when Owen pulled out the bag of scones and put a couple each on a plate. “I see you’ve heard of it.”

The penny dropped.

“No way.” Owen had been going to the café since it opened. “Brigit at the Strawberry Scone, is your sister? I love that place. Never seen you there, though.”

“I help out sometimes when they’re busy. Mainly behind the scenes, though, as the kitchen is Brigit’s domain. Being on call as a casual barista for other places in the area works better with juggling band gigs and rehearsals and it meant Brigit could hire someone permanent who didn’t constantly need to take time off. I haven’t seen you at the Scone either. I definitely would have remembered.”

Owen’s face heated. Was Jared flirting? “I would have remembered you too.” He hesitated. “Though you’ve changed a bit since the last time we met.”

“Beer guy?” Jared laughed. “I’m never going to live that down with the band, am I?”

“Probably not. Sorry.”

“I promise I’m not as clumsy as I used to be.” Jared dug into a scone.

“I looked for you later that night, but you were gone. I didn’t see you at any of Lincoln’s parties after that either.” Lincoln had thrown some good parties in their early uni days.

“I…” Jared swallowed, and his eyes misted over. “That was the last party I went to for a while.” He gripped his cup, his knuckles white.

“I’m sorry.” Owen softened his voice. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“It’s okay.” Jared shrugged and took a sip of tea. “It’s been ten years, and sometimes it feels like yesterday.” He looked up at Owen. “My parents died a couple of weeks after that party. Car accident. I kept up my studies, but not much else. Buried myself in them to cope.”

“Oh shit. I didn’t know.” Owen remembered Lincoln talking about a friend who had lost his parents, but he hadn’t mentioned any names.

“Ten years ago last month.” Jared shrugged again. “So, what are you working on? You wanted to try out some harmonies, yeah?’

“Yeah.” Owen knew an obvious change of subject when he heard one. “I’m working on a new song, but it’s not cooperating. I’d hoped to have at least the first verse done before you got here. The tune’s all good, but the lyrics not so much.”

“We can have a go at what you have, and maybe that will help?” Jared suggested. He drained the rest of his tea and picked up his bag.

“Sure. The piano’s this way. Do you want a tea refill first? I’m taking my coffee with me.” Owen hoped he’d cleaned away the stack of partly drunk coffee cups from the last few days. He unintentionally collected them while composing, his intention to finish his coffee disappearing when he became absorbed. By the time he surfaced again, they were usually cold.

“I’m good, thanks. Maybe later.”

Luckily, the cleaning fairy had visited and cleared away all the cups in the spare bedroom, which doubled as his music room, apart from the coffee from that morning. He quickly shifted the offender behind a stack of paper, hoping Jared hadn’t noticed.

“Wow, that’s a lovely piano.” Jared ran his fingers up the keys in a major scale, then descended with a melodic minor.

“Present from my parents. I mainly play violin, but they decided I needed a decent piano too.” They’d gifted it to him for his twenty-first, back in the day when they’d thought he was focused on his music career. He was an adequate pianist, but the violin spoke to him in a way a keyboard never had.

“Do you mind if I play her?”

“Of course not. She needs some attention.” Owen wanted to see what Jared could coax from the instrument.

“Thanks.” Jared sat, thoughtful for a moment, stretched his fingers, and began to play Chopin, a nocturne Owen knew well, but definitely couldn’t play like this. He finished the piece and then played the first of Sarte’s Gymnopédies , a wonderfully melancholy piece. Jared closed his eyes, his fingers moving over the keys.

“Wow,” Owen said when Jared finished playing. The music had surrounded him, tugged at his heart, and carried him to another time and place. He closed his hand over his cross, his thoughts drifting to his grandmother. “My gran loves that piece. It’s one of her favourites. And mine too.”

“It’s always spoken to me.” Jared sounded wistful. “My dad used to play it when Brigit and I were small. He taught me how to play.” He cleared his throat. “This was another of his favourites.” He launched into Joplin’s The Entertainer , switching tone and genre.

“A man of eclectic tastes and talent.” Owen approved. “Like his son.”

“I try to keep my hand in with the classics, although I don’t play a lot of them these days.” Jared turned on the stool so they were facing. “Your piano has a lovely tone. I’d love to hear you play sometime.”

“No, you wouldn’t, at least not like that.” Owen shook his head. “I mainly use it to compose. Compared to you, I’m an amateur. Do you play any other instruments?”

“Flute on occasion, but I’m not very good. I started on that, discovered the piano and fell in love. I think Brigit still has my flute. I threatened to sell it, and she hid it so I couldn’t.”

“She’s not someone you’d say no to?” Owen had enjoyed the conversations he’d had with her at the café.

“I’ve tried and failed.” Jared fluttered his eyes in an over-the-top gesture. “Seriously though, she stands her ground on the important stuff, and is good about not sticking her nose in otherwise.”

Owen put down his coffee cup, then sighed, picked it up and drained it. “I’m always leaving half cups of coffee around the place,” he confessed.

“I do the same with tea.” Jared grinned. “It’s too easy to get absorbed, right? Especially with music. A good book also does it for me. I’ll read just one more chapter, and then find my half-cold cup of tea, and have to make a fresh pot so I can digest what I’ve just read.”

“I love reading too.” Owen indicated the overflowing bookcase in the corner. “Fantasy mostly, especially urban or paranormal.”

“They’re my favourites too.” Jared’s eyes widened when he saw the pile on the coffee table next to the couch on the wall opposite the piano. He got up, walked over, and picked up the one on top. “I’ve just started this one. Been waiting for it to come out for ages.”

“It’s good so far, well worth the wait.” Owen grinned. “A dragon in the big city hooks up with a shifter Kiwi, but it still ties back to the original.”

“No spoilers! I’m only a few chapters in.” Jared suddenly looked shy. “We could discuss it when we’re both finished, if you’d like. Perhaps at the Scone? Over lunch one Saturday?”

Was Jared asking him out on a date? “I’d love that.” Owen didn’t know many others with his taste in books, apart from Jesse at work. Even if the invitation was only as a friend with mutual reading tastes, Owen would take that as a win.

Jared flipped through a few pages, then put the book down. “I’m supposed to be here to look at some harmonies. Could you play me what you have of the new song so far?”

“It’s very rough.” Owen sat at the piano, played the introduction, and began to sing. “Looking in the mirror. Not loving what I see.” He added what would be a guitar riff in the bass. “What’s that behind me? I turn, and you’re gone. A memory, or more?” He hummed the next bar and stopped.

Jared sat next to him. “Is that all you have? I think it has potential. I love the melody.”

“Melody’s my strength. I hate writing lyrics.” Owen screwed up his face. “This bloody thing has been stressing me out. We need some new songs for Frays, and so far, apart from the couple we’ve already played, this is it.”

“What’s the story you’re telling with the song? I’ve always considered songs to be stories, but with a touch of poetry.” Jared played a few chords in the same key and hummed what Owen had just sung.

“A guy looking in a mirror. He’s torn between who he wants to be and the expectations put upon him by everyone else.” Owen hesitated. The lyrics hit a bit too close to home, but he’d always written what came from his heart and hoped no one looked at the words too closely.

“I know about that one.” Jared chewed at his bottom lip. “And the guy in the mirror? What’s his story?”

“How do you know it’s a guy?” Owen asked cautiously. He’d never hidden he was bi, although he doubted Jared knew, and he did lean more towards relationships with men.

“Just a feeling.” Jared shrugged. “Or maybe I’m projecting.” He gestured at the pile of books. “Those books are mostly gay romance, as are most on my shelf. When I write I….” He trailed off.

“When you write what?” Owen’s curiosity piqued. Excitement rose. Surely the universe hadn’t sent him exactly who he needed?

“I write lyrics sometimes, more poetry than anything, as I struggle with melodies that don’t sound like something I already know. I love words and music, and how they fit, but only when they’re written by other people.”

“I need a lyricist,” Owen said slowly. “How do you feel about writing a song together?”

“I’ll give it a go, but only on the proviso that you’re honest with me if it sucks.” Jared’s eyes lit up. “What I mean is, I’d love to.”

“You don’t have to pretend if you don’t want to. You don’t have to write songs with me to stay in the band. Although that would be great if it works out.” Enthusiasm wasn’t always enough. Owen had found that out the hard way.

“Okay. I’m not pretending, though.” Jared rummaged through his bag and pulled out a notebook and pencil. “I never go anywhere without them,” he answered in reply to Owen’s raised eyebrow. “So, we have a guy and a mirror, and he’s torn between the road he thinks he should travel and the one he wants to take.”

“Yeah, a divided road.” Owen grabbed Jared’s hand before he realised what he’d done. “You’re brilliant. That’s the title of the song. It’s been staring me in the face all along.”

“A divided road?” Jared stared at their joined hands. “Pencil. I need to write this down.”

“Sorry.” Owen let go of Jared’s hand. “Divided Road. Lose the ‘a’. And I didn’t mean to….”

“It’s fine. Honestly.” Jared opened his notebook, flipped over to the back, wrote the title at the top of the page, and then a couple of bullet points about what they’d already discussed. “Could you sing the lyrics you have again? I want to write them down.”

“Looking in the mirror. Not loving what I see. What’s that behind me? I turn, and you’re gone. A memory, or more?”

“Thanks.” Jared scribbled in his book for a moment and then sang the words back to Owen. “Hmm.” He wrote a few more words. “I think better when I write things down. Is that okay?”

“Sure.” Owen shuffled over so he could read what Jared wrote. “I’m thinking the reflection isn’t him, but a guy he once knew before he took the wrong road. They had something, but things didn’t work out.”

“But he wants a second chance? To go back and fix things?” Jared chewed on the end of his pencil. “What if it’s not a conventional second chance? But a proper do-over, with the mirror?”

“Like he steps into the mirror?” Owen frowned. “But then, what’s that behind him?”

“His memory and the future is through the mirror ahead?” Jared pondered. “Do you have more of the melody?”

Owen hummed the next few lines, accompanying himself on the piano. He added a mix of chords and arpeggios under the melody line, subtly working through keys on a journey from minor to major.

“Brilliant.” Jared repeated what Owen had played with a few mistakes, correcting himself with Owen’s prompts. “Do you want to hear what I’ve got? It’s rough, but it might work.”

“Of course.” Owen waited, hoping Jared was going to sing, but instead, he handed Owen the notebook. Owen read the words, a familiar tingle going through him that meant he’d found the magic he sought.

Looking in the mirror, not loving what I see. Losing you tore my heart in two. My memory of you a fading reflection of the past. One I left behind when I was blinded to what could be.

I glimpse a future, one with you and me. I took the wrong road back then, a turn I couldn’t truly see.

The mirror ripples, a hope I can’t ignore. Reflections of love from my heart. Fragile glass breaking, crumbling to memories…. Crumbling to memories.

Not loving what I see. Not loving me.

I hold out my hand. You pull me through, back to myself, to us, and what could be.

Divided road. A journey ahead. Alone. No, together. A future shared. Ripples in time healing us both. A love that was always meant to be. A love that was always meant to be.

A mirror heals. Magic in song. Hope together. Love realised. I’ve chosen my future, made my decision.

My divided road now one.

“Wow.” Owen took several deep breaths, then sang, the words fitting his melody, twining around each other, like the road in the story. Emotion swelled from within, and he wiped at his eyes. If only life could reflect song. “I need a mirror and a magical song,” he whispered.

“Hmm?” Jared frowned. “Are you okay? The words are a bit rough, but I think it’s a start.”

“I love it!” Owen looked up at Jared. “Sing it with me. Please.”

“I think it’s a solo.” Jared looked hesitant. “Maybe at the chorus. That kind of works better with two. See what you think?” He waited for Owen to sing again, then joined in at the repeated line, his voice lower than Owen’s tenor, the tone rich and warm, the timbre wrapping around Owen like a comfortable blanket. “A love that was always meant to be.”

Owen added a harmony above Jared’s melody, then rejoined him in unison for the final line. “That was beautiful. Exactly what I was looking for, but I couldn’t find the words.” He grinned, excitement bubbling through him. “I think we have the potential to make great music together.”

“I think so too. Unless it’s a one-off. After all, you were already on the road, no pun intended.”

“This doesn’t feel like a one-off.” Owen held out his hand, unsure how Jared would react to a hug. “Partners in song? At least for now?”

Jared shook Owen’s hand, his skin warm to the touch, his grip firm. “At least for now.” He grinned. “Count me in.”