Hypothetical Heart (Farewell Fairwood #2)

Chapter 16

16

“ L ogan, can you come here for a second?” Mom calls from the kitchen, making me stop halfway up the staircase.

“Coming!” I yell, dropping my backpack on the steps. I make my way through the hall toward the kitchen, the smell of dinner prominent in the air.

“Hello, dear.” She smiles from where she stands at the sink as she dries her hands. “How was school?”

“It was good,” I reply, giving her a quick hug before hopping up onto the counter next to where she’s standing. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to ask about prom.”

Her tone doesn’t suggest anything, and anyone else would think their mom was simply checking in, but I know mine too well. In my mom’s eyes, school dances are romantic, and romantic events require dates.

“No, I don’t have a date, Mom,” I sigh.

“Who said I was asking that?” She laughs, pulling her favorite cutting board out of the cabinet.

“You don’t need to ask for me to guess what you want to know.”

“I think you should go with Winnie,” she says bluntly.

This is the same scheme she pulled on all of us during homecoming when she somehow conned us all into going in pairs. Winnie and I went together, as well as Jameson and Genevieve, and Luke and Eloise.

“Mom.” Going to homecoming with Winnie was hard enough for the two of us. I don’t want to be forced into that again.

“Logan,” she counters. “It’s prom, for God’s sake, and everyone knows how much you want to take Winnie.” I do want to take Winnie, but not when it’s my mom’s doing.

“I’m going to ignore that statement,” I say, reaching over to grab one of the carrots she cut up, popping it in my mouth.

“Would you just ask her?” Mom asks. “For me?”

“Haven’t you done enough school dance meddling?” I take another carrot, and this time, she smacks my hand.

“Well, look how well it worked for Gen and Jameson.” Yeah, the fact they’re now together does not work in my favor.

“That’s not the point.”

“It is, though!” she exclaims, setting down her knife. “You and Winnie would be good together!”

It’s the same mantra she has been chanting my entire life, but especially since Susan died. I can’t say that it’s not my wish too, but if I openly admit that to my mom, this poking and prodding would never end.

Mom doesn’t know about the time I went to Winnie’s house in the pouring rain and pleaded with her to try to be more than friends. She doesn’t know how it ended before it even began because Winnie’s mom died three days later.

She just thinks we're being stubborn.

And maybe we are, but I know deep down it comes from a place of fear. We’re both terrified of screwing up again.

“Mom, I don’t even know if she likes me in that way,” I lie.

“How will you ever know if you don’t try?” she counters.

“This isn’t a new hobby I’m thinking of taking up. This is Winnie we’re talking about. She’s been my best friend my entire life.”

“Are you scared about it not working out?”

Yes, and the fact that my mom has been waiting for us to get together our entire lives, and if we try again just for it to go up in flames, Winnie and I won’t be the only ones who get hurt.

“I haven’t put much thought into it if I’m being honest.” I’m lying through my fucking teeth, and my mom knows it.

“I’m sure you haven’t.” She smirks.

I hop down from the counter. “Alright, is that all you needed?”

“Yup, that’s all. Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Okay.” I head back upstairs, stopping at the top where the piano sits.

I take a seat at the stool, flexing my hands as I stretch my fingers. The book of sheet music is still open to the last song I played, and if it weren’t for my mom’s cleaning tendencies, the keys would probably have a layer of dust.

I grew up with a love-hate relationship with playing. I always wanted to learn—that’s why my parents bought a grand piano for my sixth birthday—but I was a bit slower learning the keys and reading the notes of sheet music. Learning to play different keys with either hand was an entirely different struggle.

I was around twelve when I decided I really wanted to get good, and I was sick of waiting for the weekly practice with my teacher just for her to tell me I was making the same mistakes.

I practiced constantly, with or without an instructor, and eventually, I stopped making the same mistakes and could move onto fixing new ones.

“Are you going to play?” my little sister, Mae, asks as she exits her bedroom.

“Yeah,” I reply.

She takes a seat in one of the beanbags in the corner of the room. “What song?”

“Have a suggestion?” Mae has always loved hearing me play. I’m reminded of when she was around seven years old, and she would sit in here with me every day, suggesting song after song.

“Can you play Another Love?”

“By Tom Odell?” She nods. Her obsession with sad songs has been long-lived, and she always loves hearing them on the piano. “Sure, grab me the purple book behind you.”

I recognize the notes when I open the book, and they flow easily as I start playing. I’ve played this song before, but it’s been a long time.

I get to the chorus, pounding hard on the keys as Mae taps her foot. It doesn’t feel like I’m playing anymore because I already know what key is next before I even read the sheet music. Every note comes naturally.

I see movement in my peripheral vision and assume it’s my mom. It’s not uncommon for her to sneak up here and listen when she hears me playing.

But when I finish the song, I look over to see Winnie. She smiles lightly, waving towards Mae.

It’s been a few days since I’ve seen her. A few days since she jumped in the shower with me, and it’s all I can think about when I look at her.

“What are you doing over here?” I ask.

“I heard you playing while I was outside with Suzie, and I wanted to come over and get a better listen,” she says.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice the window was open.”

“Don’t be, I’m glad I heard. You haven’t played in a while. Why today?” Because my mom is badgering me about asking you to prom, and I can barely admit that it’s all I’ve ever wanted.

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I just haven’t thought about it the past few weeks, but I stopped at the top of the stairs, noticed the piano, and decided to sit down at it.”

“Play another song,” she tells me, leaning against the banister behind me.

“Sure, what one?”

Her shoulders lift. “It doesn’t matter.”

I nod, flipping to the next page of the sheet music book in front of me. I don’t recognize the song, but I play it anyway.

The song is comforting in the most unfamiliar way because I don’t know how it’s going to sound when I play the next note, but I do know that I’ll be able to play it.

It’s one of the most beautiful songs I think I’ve ever played, and that’s probably because I had no expectations of how it should sound.

“Wow,” Winnie sighs as I hit the last key.

“Here, sit,” I tell her, scooting over and patting the spot on the bench next to me. She places her hands under her thighs as she sits. “Do you want to play something?”

She looks at me as if I asked her to go deep-sea diving without oxygen tanks. “I don’t know how.”

“We’ll do something easy,” I reply, putting away the sheet music in front of me. “Mae, can you grab the yellow and orange book from inside the drawer right there?” I point towards the dresser behind her.

She hands me one of the first books of sheet music I ever learned to play with, flipping through it to find the most worn-out page.

“This song was my favorite when I was seven, and my mom grew to hate it because it was all I played sunup to sun down.”

Unlike most piano books, where they only show the notes, this one actually showed a picture of which keys you need to press.

“Just try to play the notes one at a time first, then you can work on putting them together,” I advise, my finger tracing the page.

“Okay,” she says.

“You might need to stop sitting on your hands first.” A grin crosses my face, and she blushes, retrieving her hands and placing them on the keys. I put my hands over hers, positioning her fingers correctly. “Now, push the first key.”

I put a little more pressure on the fingers she’s supposed to press down with, but I’m not doing it for her.

She flinches back when the keys sound, and it doesn’t sound very good. Looking back at me, she says, “I’m not very good at this.”

“It takes time,” I answer honestly. “Try again, and this time, make sure you're hitting all the keys at the same time.”

She repeats the motion, this time the note sounding more cohesive. I point to the next one in the book, and she tries that one.

I’m not sure how long we spend sitting at the piano, Winnie playing a single note at a time while I rest my hands over hers, but it’s long enough for Winnie to have a good grasp on every note in the song.

“So, now, how am I supposed to put all of those together?” She sighs.

“Let’s work on that next time.” I laugh, grabbing her and pulling her to stand from the piano.

“No, I was just getting good!” She laughs.

“Not to burst your bubble, Win, but we’d be here all night if I taught you to play the whole song in one go.”

“Can I come back tomorrow?” She asks, following me down the hall and into my bedroom.

It’s not weird for her to be in here, not like most people would assume. She knows she is always welcome.

“You can come over anytime you want, Win. You know that already.”

She takes a seat at my desk, mindlessly sorting through the papers sprawled everywhere. Her eyes glaze over the area when she sees her book sitting on my nightstand.

Reaching over to grab it, she asks, “How far through it are you?”

“Oh, you can have it back. I finished it.” I fall back onto my bed, resting my hands behind my head. “It was actually pretty good.”

“You liked it?” she asks, my admission clearly catching her off guard.

“Was I not supposed to?” I counter.

“I just wasn’t expecting you to, that’s all...” she trails off.

“Well, I did. I might want to read another one, actually.” This would be the third book I borrow from her.

“Seriously?” She’s looking at me like I’m full of shit.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll come over and pick another one off your shelves,” I say. “You seem to have lots to spare.”

She laughs, and the way I feel her pulse radiating through my hand sends a spark of electricity through me.

“You haven’t even seen the worst of it,” she teases, picking up Billionaire Boss and hitting me in the head with it.

“What do you mean I haven’t seen the worst of it?” My face morphs into a look of confusion. “They fucked in the bathroom of a restaurant, Winnie.” And it was actually really hot.

She shrugs, removing her wrist from my grasp so she can reach up and zip her lips shut dramatically.

“Oh, I am so going through your bookshelves the next time I’m in your room.” I grin.

She stands from her chair, headed for the door. “You’re officially uninvited.”

“We’ll see about that!” I yell as she enters the hallway.

“Bye, Logan!” She replies as I throw my head back against my pillow.

God, that girl.