Page 33 of The Sound Between Us
He leans against the wall. I don’t think he can function upright without support.
“Mum gave all that up. For me.”
He nods, slow and thoughtful. “Your dad didn’t.”
“No. But then, Mum didn’t need to. I never asked that of her.” That memory of her on a bathroom floor slides into my head with sharpened edges.
His mouth tightens. “Some mothers don’t wait to be asked. That’s kind of the job.”
There’s a dark edge in his voice. A bitter undercurrent that curls around the conversation. But then he shakes it off and steps properly into the living space.
“This is nice. Needs colour. But nice.”
He stops. Looks at the MacBook.
Oh God.
My stomach flips. The screen hasn’t gone to sleep.
No. No. No.
I lunge, but he’s faster. Longer legs; longer reach.
He holds the laptop up between two fingers as though it’s contagious. “I’m sensing a little groupie behaviour here.”
“Don’t drop that. I can’t afford a new one.”
He frowns, amused. “You live in Belgravia. Laptops aren’t exactly rare commodities.”
I exhale. “I work in a vintage record shop that pays minimum wage. This flat? Guilt trip from my dad. That’s all.”
“But your dad is Damon Rogers.”
I stare at him. “So? My mum left him when I was six. We lived normal.”
He watches me carefully. “No. I don’t buy that.”
“Why? Would it kill your fantasy if I wasn’t posh and rich?”
“What? You do know I grew up on a council estate, right?” He waves the laptop and my open YouTube tab around.
Heat crawls up my neck. “I was so angry when she died. Mum. I gave all the money I had to the hospice. Every penny.”
His eyes widen. His expression shifts.
“Yeah. Then I realised I had no way to pay rent; no backup. Dad showed up while she was sick. Guilt in human form. He decided he loved her again, just in time to be too late. And I became his project.”
My mouth twists. “Pretty sure he regrets it now.”
Harrison’s gaze flicks to the baby grand by the wall. “You play.”
“Used to.”
“May I?”
His tone changes. Quiet; almost reverent.
“Sure. It’s collecting dust.”
