Worthy of the Dissonance (Mountains & Men Book 3)

by R. C. Martin

  I love Sage more than I ever thought possible, and it still scares the shit out of me. I want to see him succeed, just like Violet wants to see JJ succeed; but while I know that Sage is destined for greatness, I’m still so afraid that I am not.

  “What about you?” Violet asks, interrupting my thoughts. “Do you like teaching?”

  I take a moment to think about her question, really think about it—and yet I know before I speak a word that I already have the answer. That I’ve always known the answer.

  “I enjoy it,” I begin hesitantly.

  “But…?”

  “I don’t love it like Sage loves music. It’s just comfortable. I’m good at math, really good. Teaching seemed like a logical and smart career move.”

  “So, what would you rather do? If you could do anything?”

  “That’s the problem.” I speak so softly, I’m not even sure she can hear me. “I don’t know.”

  Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed by the realization that until Sage, I wasn’t living. I was only existing. Now all of that is changing. I’m surrounded by people who are full of passion and drive and love. The very atmosphere that they create is different than any I’ve ever been fully immersed in. It feels amazing. And since I’ve been invited into a life abundant with friends and family who encourage and support one another, it’s now glaringly obvious that my life is still lacking. I don’t know what it is that I want to do with my life; I don’t know what I’m passionate about. It’s that very truth that fuels my fear that Sage will outgrow me.

  “Hey,” says Violet, reaching over to pat my knee.

  It’s not until I feel her touch that I realize we’ve stopped moving. I look out the windshield and see that we’ve arrived at our destination. When she continues speaking, I turn to look at her.

  “Not everybody’s journey is the same, you know? You’ll figure out what it is in life that you want. I met JJ when I was nineteen, you met Sage at twenty-six. It happened for both of us when it was supposed to happen. Life is all about timing, you know? So what if you don’t have it all figured out now? You’ll find your way.”

  I nod, not because I believe her, but because I want to.

  “Thanks for saying that.”

  “I say it because I mean it,” she insists with a smile. “Now, come on—we’ve got a hungry band we need to get fed.”

  THE TEN HOURS we spent in the studio today wore me the fuck out—but it was totally worth it. We managed to nail four songs, and I can’t wait to see this project continue to unfold. We’re scheduled to meet up with Tank again next week, and as tired as I am, I’m already itching to be back in the booth. Knowing that this is how the next few weeks are going to go, the first few weeks of the new year, I can sense a change in the atmosphere. This is our year, and I’m prepared to work my ass off to insure that I’m right.

  The ride back to Fort Collins is a quiet one. Violet drives while JJ rides shot gun. He passes out before we even hit the interstate. My mind is too busy to sleep, my thoughts wandering aimlessly as I stare out the window and fidget with Millie’s hand, which is resting in my lap. Every once and a while, I look over at her and find her doing the same as me—looking out into the night, lost in her head. I wonder what she’s thinking, but I don’t ask, not with Violet in the car.

  She seems to be doing okay as the days go by, the shock of her mom’s passing settling into reality, and the holidays now behind us. I know that it had been a while since she last talked to her mom, and that their last conversation was far from pleasant, but she still had to mourn. In some ways, I think she still is. But she’s still Millie—my Millicent—strong as she’s ever been, facing the world one day at a time. Nevertheless, her far off look doesn’t go unnoticed.

  Alex met up with Adrian after we wrapped up with Tank, and he said he’d get her home. When Violet pulls up to the house, I see that we’re the last to arrive. We couldn’t have been but ten minutes behind them, yet Derrick and the Bradley brothers are already sprawled out in the living room, parked in front of the TV with a brew in their hands.

  “I’m heading up,” says JJ with a wave, not even stopping before he climbs the stairs. Violet follows behind him, saying goodnight to Millie as she goes.

  “Maestro was pretty excited when we got back. I let him out to drop a shit. He should be good,” Maddox tells me, lifting his chin at my dog, who lays stretched out by his feet.

  “Thanks.”

  “Sage?” Millie speaks, earning my attention. “I think I want to go home,” she says softly.

  I cough out a humorless laugh as I reach for her hand.

  I knew it. Her mind has been busy.

  “Think again,” I tell her as I head for the stairs. She follows me without protest but then lets go of my hand as soon as I shut my bedroom door behind us. “What’s going on, doll face?”

  “Nothing,” she says with a sigh, dropping her oversized purse on the floor. “I just—I have a lot on my mind. School’s coming up, and I can’t find my focus here.”

  “It’s almost eleven, doll. What, are you going to go home and work?”

  She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. Instead, she shakes her head, her dark green eyes staring helplessly into mine.

  “Millicent,” I murmur, reaching out to pull her against me. “We’re both beat to shit. It’s been a long day, so just spit it out.”

  Her fingers grip the lapels of my jacket, her eyes following her hands before she says, “You’re not so average. You never have been. Everything I ever expected from someone your age—you’re not average.” She grips at my coat tighter, and I furrow my brow, confused by what she’s trying to say.

  “You’re a fighter,” she continues. “You don’t just take life as it comes, you chase after it. My chaser—my dream chaser.” A small smile plays at the corner of her mouth, but it only lasts a second. “You’re so strong and resilient, and I admire you so much. It’s like your music—it calls you to tap into something, tap into the deepest parts of who you are; it demands for you to see the world differently. You’re wise beyond your years and it’s…”

  She hums a humorless laugh, abandoning her sentence. I wish I could see into her eyes, see what she’s feeling so that I might understand what she’s trying to say. I reach up and run my fingers through her hair, gently tilting her head back so that she’ll look at me.

  “You want to sing with the world,” she whispers, her voice shaky with some emotion I still can’t identify. “You want it so badly that you’ve turned into this man who will give it his all until he gets exactly what he wants. I don’t feel that way about anything. What if I never do? What if I don’t discover my dream? What if I become undesirable to you because I’m—”

  “Don’t. Don’t you fucking dare think like that.”

  “But, Sage—”

  “I mean it, Millie,” I insist, frowning at her. I don’t know how she gets this shit in her head. It’s like she has no idea how much she means to me; like her eyes are closed to the way she impacts my entire fucking world. “How do I get it through your head? How do I make you understand? I love you—”

  “I know, but—”

  “But nothing!” I cry out. She jumps, startled by my volume, and I’m quick to give the back of her neck a squeeze. I lean down, inching my face closer to hers before I repeat softly, “But nothing. What we have? This love? You know what we’re like without each other. I’m a sack of shit without you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Sage—”

  “Maybe I wasn’t before. Before I met you, I was all I could be. But then I met you. I fell in love with you. Now I’m not me without you. And you aren’t you without me. So stop it—stop thinking of reasons, no, excuses for why we aren’t going to work out. We are. I’m not fucking letting you go. I’m not leaving. You’re not leaving. Got it?”

  She draws in a shuddered breath, nodding her head as she leans into me. “Yeah,” she whimpers.

  “Good.”

  I press my lip
s against hers, completely closing the door to this stupid conversation. When I slide my tongue along the seam of her lips, seeking entrance into her mouth, she opens up for me, and I kiss her deeper. She pushes herself up on her tiptoes, circling her arms around my neck, and our exchange turns wet and greedy. My hands slip from out of her hair before I wrap my arms around her middle, splaying my hands against her back, pressing her against me tighter. We don’t do anything but kiss, and it’s as if we both know that this is exactly what we need right now.

  I kiss her long and hard, and she kisses me back harder and longer. In this moment, we’re both fighting for us—fighting for each other—and I know I’ll never stop fighting. My girl is worthy of the dissonance, and our song will play on.

  GETTING OUT OF bed on the first day of the semester is always a challenge. Getting out of bed on the first day of the semester is nearly impossible when I wake up naked, tangled in the sheets with Sage. Lucky for me, he knows a trick or two that have always proven quite useful in rousing me from my sweet slumber. This morning he played me with his fingers before encouraging me into the shower. In spite of the cold, my cheeks grow warm as I replay the memory while making the trip from my car to the building that houses my office.

  I have five classes this spring; my first three happen to be back to back on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I spent most of the weekend preparing for today, knowing that it would be one hell of a morning.

  I make it to my office without turning into a popsicle, and I’m just shrugging my way out of my coat when I sense someone’s presence in my doorway. I direct my gaze over my shoulder and find a very impatient looking Lindsey.

  “Oh, shit,” I mutter under my breath. It isn’t until this very second that I remember I had promised to call her and get together with her over the break. I did no such thing. In fact, the thought never even crossed my mind.

  Clearly, I’m still working on the friend thing.

  “Oh, shit—yeah, that about sums it up. You’re lucky I’m as nice as I am. I think I can manage to forgive you for standing me up the last month if you agree to grab some lunch with me later.”

  “Um, yeah, okay,” I mumble, draping my coat over the back of my chair before sweeping my hair behind my ears. “I should be free around one.”

  “Great. I’m free then, too. It’s settled,” she says, flashing me her brilliant smile. “I’ll want details during lunch, but how were your holidays?”

  Without warning, my chest begins to ache. I look away from her, my mind flipping through a reel of memories that make up the last four weeks of my life. Truth be told, there is no simple answer to her question.

  “I guess—” I start and then I stop, lifting my shoulders in a shrug as I look at her from where I stand. “Honestly, I don’t know how to answer that. There were highs and lows.”

  She folds her arms across her chest, her brow dipping in curious concern, and I decide now’s as good a time as any to tell her the news. There really is no good time to speak of your mother’s murder. Even just thinking about it makes me short of breath. It’s such horrific news to share.

  “Millie?” she asks, her arms falling to her sides as she takes a step further into the room. “Something happened—what? What is it? Are you and Sage—?”

  “Oh, no, Sage is good. We’re good. It’s just—”

  I’m interrupted when a tall, slender yet sturdy looking man fills my doorway. He’s in a pair of navy dress slacks and a pale blue, button-up shirt, the collar left open. He’s got a long, gray, heavy wool coat on, and the scarf draped around his neck hangs down his chest. In his hands are a pair of leather gloves with which he fidgets, as if he’s anxious. He looks slightly familiar, though I can’t recall where I might have seen him before. When he doesn’t speak, but instead looks at me with rapt fascination, I straighten my back and take him in again, now apprehensive about the handsome stranger.

  My eyes roam over his ashy brown hair, cut short at the sides but a bit longer on the top, his temples highlighted with gray. His face is covered in a couple day’s worth of stubble, and I notice it’s also speckled with gray. But it isn’t until I look into his eyes that I realize who he is. It isn’t until I see the reflection of my own dark green irises that my hands begin to tremble and my lungs seem to shrink.

  “Hello,” Lindsey speaks, breaking the tension filled silence. Without actually looking away from the man, I can tell that her gaze is bouncing back and forth between us. “Can we help you?” she asks him.

  If I could manage a proper breath, I might sigh in relief at hearing her question. I’m suddenly desperate to know the answer to that, myself.

  “I’m here to speak to Millicent.”

  “And you are…?”

  “Christopher Valentine,” he replies, his eyes still locked with mine. “Millicent’s father.”

  I FLINCH AT HIS declaration, surprised as all get out to hear his response. Then I study him openly—not that he would notice, his gaze trained intently on Millie, admiring her as if he’s seeing her for the first time. It takes me a second, but when I squint, I see it. Millie’s hair. Her eyes. Her nose. I call them hers because to me, that’s who they belong to—not the man who has made Millie fall mute.

  I whip my head back in her direction. I’ve never heard Millie talk about her father. By the pallor of her gorgeous face, I can tell that there’s a reason why I’ve never heard his name pass through her lips. I can’t say for certain what that reason is, but the appearance of one Mr. Christopher Valentine doesn’t exactly look to be one that brings her an abundant amount of joy.

  When Millie sways on her feet, I hurry to her side, securing my arm around the back of her waist. She leans against my side, and I can feel her whole body trembling. I have no idea what’s going through her head right now, but I don’t feel comfortable leaving her alone with him—not unless I hear her tell me that’s what she wants.

  “Millie?” I ask softly, giving her a gentle squeeze.

  She sucks in a shallow breath, blowing it out quickly before sucking in another. It’s as if she’s trying to breathe deeply, but she can’t.

  “Hon, I think you should sit down. Can you sit down for me?”

  She nods, allowing me to guide her the short distance to her chair. After she plops down, I shift my attention back to Christopher Valentine.

  “Look, I understand that you’d like to speak to Millie, but she seems rather incapable of managing that right now. Also, we’ve got a busy morning.”

  Truth be told, I have no idea what her schedule looks like today, only that we had planned to have lunch at one—but I’m not above making up some crap story to get him to give her some breathing room.

  “Is it possible for you to come back? Perhaps this afternoon?” I shift my gaze back and forth between the two of them, hoping to get some sort of okay from Millie at my suggestion.

  “What time would be convenient for you?” he asks his daughter.

  She stares at him, still stunned, and I continue to act as her mouthpiece.

  “One o’clock. She’s free today at one o’clock.”

  “Millicent?” he murmurs, his voice deep and his tone unsure.

  Millie jerks back at the sound of her name on his lips.

  “Please don’t call me that.” Her request is spoken so softly that I’m surprised he even hears her from where he stands—still just outside of her door.

  “Millie, then. Does it suit you for me to come back at one?”

  She seals her eyes shut tight and offers him a nod. When she shows no sign of opening her eyes and addressing him any further, Christopher Valentine gives a curt nod before uttering, “Right. I’ll see you at one o’clock.” Without another word, he turns and makes his exit.

  I kneel down beside Millie, giving her shaking hands a squeeze as I assure her, “He’s gone. You can open your eyes now.”

  She does just that, sucking in a deep breath sharply.

  “I take it you don’t see your father often?” />
  With a slight shake of her head, she whispers, “Not since I was six.”

  Goodness gracious! No wonder she looks like she’s seen a ghost.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Abruptly, she pulls her hands out from underneath mine. “No,” she answers shortly. She then meets my gaze, her eyes softening a touch. “No, thank you. I—I have to get ready for my classes. I—I have three classes this morning.”

  “Okay,” I say, returning to my full height. I eye her warily, trying to assess whether or not she’s even capable of standing in front of a classroom just now. The look in her eyes tells me that there are a lot of things going on in her head at the moment. But as I stare at her, it’s as if I can see her shoving them all into some dark corner in the deep recesses of her mind. “Okay,” I repeat. “You know where to find me if you need.”

  She nods and then reaches for her bag, pulling out what is necessary to get started with her day. I decide it’s best not to push her and then begin making my exit. I’m halfway across the room when she calls out.

  “Lindsey?”

  “Yes?” I turn back to find her on her feet, her hands speaking of the anxiety she’s trying desperately to hide.

  “Thank you.”

  I smile encouragingly before I declare, “That’s what friends are for.”

  I WATCH LINDSEY as she disappears into her office across the hall, then I take my seat once more—my legs still feeling a bit unreliable. I try my damnedest not to think of the reason why. I don’t think about the man who just darkened my door. I don’t think about the ways in which we look alike. I don’t think about how different he appears in comparison to the fragmented memory I have of him. I don’t think about the way my name sounded falling from his lips. I don’t question why in the hell he’s here or how he found me.

  I don’t think about any of it.