that trait onto her only child—his mother.
“Sounds wonderful,” Jacqui said, squeezing his hand.
“It was.” It’d been the first place he’d found acceptance. “Grandmother insisted on private teachers, but also let us develop our own love for it. She never forced anyone to play, which is why only Emma and I ended up playing seriously past the age of seven.”
“Emma. Your little sister,” she stated with gentleness, thumb swiping soothing strokes over his.
He had to swallow again to get past the sorrow and guilt that still had the power to drown him. “Yes.”
“You miss her.” Another statement delivered with soft understanding.
“Every day.” Nightfall had fully descended, the darkness creating a mirror out of the tall glass. He stared into the reflection, lost in the past of good and bad. He appreciated Jacqui’s patience in not pushing with questions or platitudes. “She was only seventeen when she died.” The exposed wound spilled acid from his heart. “Drug overdose.”
Jacqui repositioned her hand to grip his tighter. A glimmer of tears flashed in her eyes before she blinked them away.
He cleared his throat, stared down at their joined hands. “It was prep school fun gone wrong,” he got out, forcing himself to continue. “I was in my sophomore year at Harvard, focused on hockey and classes. We’d grown apart in our teens with both of us at different schools. The two-year difference was huge at that age, but I still tried to watch out for her. Worried about her whenever I saw her.”
“You went to different high schools?”
His flash of a smile was weighted with sarcasm. “A major rift was almost formed over which boarding school we’d attend. The Grenicks versus the Hedbergs. In the end, the boys conformed to the Grenick’s tradition, and Emma followed the Hedberg’s. All parties were happy, except they’d never bothered to ask us kids if we were.”
“Were the schools in Boston?”
“No. Mine was in New Hampshire. A whopping one hour away from home that required me to board there.” His depreciating laugh was more of a scoff. “I actually saw my parents more after I went there than I did when I lived at home. Emma was in Manhattan.”
“That’s so foreign to me.” He hunted her solemn eyes but found only curiosity when he’d feared judgment. “It sounds...lonely. Did you miss your family?”
He shrugged. Getting out of the silent house had been a blessing. “It was the norm for us with no example outside of TV shows on how it could be different.” Leaving Emma behind had been negated by the joy of being free.
“I can’t comprehend growing up like that.”
And he had no concept of being surrounded by her close-knit family. “We can’t choose our families, only our destination.”
Her brows quirked up. “Famous quote?”
“Personal motto.”
“But you can create your own family.”
“If you know how.” He shrugged that comment off before she could counter and cycled back to his sister. “Emma played the part of the wealthy prep school girl living in New York City perfectly.” Beautiful with a quick wit and strong front, she’d thrown herself into the new freedom with a reckless thirst for belonging. “I’d found my surrogate family in hockey. My teammates were the brothers I’d always wanted. The bond and structure I’d never had at home. Emma surrounded herself with more girls who were lost like her.”
He could end his story there, take the simple truth and avoid the rest. Behind him, the presence of the piano loomed like a menacing curse that was joy and pain combined. Jacqui wouldn’t know. He would though.
“She was a gifted pianist. Better than me,” he admitted without jealousy, her beautiful music running through the faded tracks in his memory. “She should’ve been at a conservatory by the time she was fifteen, but she refused to go. It was too solitary for her. Too competitive for friends, she’d said.” She’d been as desperate for a surrogate family as he’d been.
“Did she stop playing then?” Jacqui’s question broke through his haze of the past. He blinked, looked up and exhaled. She truly cared. The truth showed in her eyes and intense expression.
“No. She still played at prep school. I did too,” he added. “I was a guest pianist in the orchestra when the hockey schedule allowed.” Which had decreased down to almost never by the time he’d been a senior. By then, his athletic path had overshadowed his creative. And like his sister had stated, the piano didn’t give him the family he’d craved. Not the way hockey