Chapter Eight

Taylor cursed under his breath, slamming the wardrobe door shut, watching the wood grain pattern tremble as it shook under the impact of his push. Sighing, he pulled on a pair of socks, and ran a comb through his hair, then undoing the work by tousling it to perfection. Muttering to himself, he picked up the fluffy, pink towel he'd been using to dry himself off and wrapped it tightly around his waist, gathering together yesterday's clothes and chucking them into the laundry chute on his way past, as he headed down to the kitchen.
"Ooh, going for a new look?" teased Isaac over the morning newspaper, as Taylor brushed past him.

"Yeah, the I-need-to-iron-my-jeans look," mumbled Taylor, dragging out the ironing board.

"I hear that one's huge in Europe right now," nodded Rhia seriously, her sparkling eyes giving away the joke.

"That's me, Taylor Hanson, fashion guru." Feeling his dark mood beginning to lift, Taylor plugged in the iron. "Well, I didn't know who'd be in here. I wasn't exactly keen on the idea of wandering down in my boxers."

"Oh, it's only me and Rhia," Isaac told him absently.

"Yes, I did notice that, Ike," replied Taylor sarcastically. "Unless someone's hiding in the cupboard or something."

Putting down her coffee, Rhia got to her feet and opened the cupboard, peeking into it.

"What're you doing?" asked Isaac, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, just checking," she murmured, slipping back into her seat at the table, ignoring the wry looks that the brothers were exchanging. "Where's Zac?"

"Do you really think we know?" sighed Taylor, standing the iron up and flipping his jeans over to the other side. "I mean, it's not like-"

"My guess is that he's still sleeping," interjected Isaac, quickly silencing his brother.

"All he ever does is sleep and eat," muttered Taylor darkly, rolling his eyes. "He has such a hard life." His voice practically dripped sarcasm, prompting Rhia and Isaac to exchange worried glances.

"Tay…" Isaac began.

"Oh, what?!" demanded Taylor irritably. "Can't we just ignore him and pretend he's not here? I mean, he does that to us."

"We have to make the effort, Tay. It's up to us."

"Yeah? Well, maybe I'm sick of everything being up to us, Ike." Sighing, he slumped down at the table, leaving his pants stranded on the ironing board. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "It just seems so…futile, sometimes. You know, you give and you give and you give and you get nothing back. It's tiring."

"I know. I'm doing it, too," Isaac reminded him. He rested his cheek in his left hand, wondering when, exactly, he and Taylor had switched roles in this whole Zac debacle. He clearly recalled, not so long ago, that it was Taylor who'd had to convince him to go easy on Zac. Now it was the other way around; he was soothing Taylor's frayed nerves. Maybe Zac was just taking his toll on everyone.

"Sorry," Taylor blurted out suddenly. "I know you're going through this as well, Ike. I'll stop complaining. It's just…so hard."

"Tell me about it," commiserated Isaac.

"You guys can't lose faith though," Rhia interjected thoughtfully, taking a bite out of a sugar-coated doughnut. "I mean, he's your brother, and I think that even though he's pretending that you don't matter to him, you do. He still has love for you guys. Maybe stuck in the bottom of his big toe," she laughed. "But it's there. That's enough."

Isaac and Taylor nodded their heads thoughtfully in unison, staring down at the table in front of them.

Rhia giggled.

"What?"

"You guys look like a pair of those nodding dogs people put in their cars," she laughed.

Throwing a dishcloth at her, Taylor snorted and got to his feet, resuming his stance behind the ironing board.

Just then, Mike and Gabbie wandered into the kitchen, hand in hand, each slipping into a seat at the table, not letting their adjoined hands separate.

"Wow, Taylor, that pink wrap skirt really looks great on you," sneered Mike, shooting Taylor a hard stare. "I'd watch your clothes, Gab. You never know what he might be after."

Taylor merely rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath and continuing with his ironing.

"Don't you look quite the little Suzy Homemaker?" Mike carried on, reaching out and picking up a slice of Rhia's toast. "You'll make someone a great wife one day."

"Uh, Mike," interrupted Rhia. "That's my toast."

Mike stared at her blankly. "Your toast?"

"Yeah. I made it. Therefore, it is my toast."

"Oh. I thought it was just a plate that anyone could take from."

Isaac cleared his throat. "We make our own food in this house, Mike. I don't mean to be rude, but if you want toast, get up and make it yourself."

"Couldn't Taylor The Housewife make it?"

Taylor pressed his lips together angrily, resisting the urge to throw the hot iron at the smarmy older guy. He wasn't going to rise to the bait.

Isaac glanced over at Taylor, desperate to tell Mike to shut up and leave his younger brother alone. But that wouldn't help. Taylor, although it was obvious to Isaac that he was angry, was doing a great job of pretending he didn't care. He didn't need Isaac to undermine him, and in turn, make Mike respect him even less. Finally, he shook his head. "No. Make your own toast," he replied calmly.

Gabbie got up. "I'll make you some toast, sweetie," she cooed.

"Thankyou, honey." Mike grabbed Gabbie and pulled her down until she was sitting in his lap, squirming and giggling girlishly. He pushed his lips against hers, and she responded, and they sat there, at the breakfast table, kissing passionately.

Taylor tried to ignore it, looking down at his now-ironed jeans. He succeeded for about twenty seconds, then banged down the iron, grabbed his pants and stormed out of the room, slamming the door loudly behind him.

Isaac watched as Mike and Gabbie pulled apart, a triumphant smile on Mike's lips. Shaking his head in disgust, he walked out of the kitchen, Rhia following him, stopping in front of the door to the living room. He could see Taylor, now somehow wearing his jeans, sitting on the huge, soft couch, wringing his pink towel between his hands. He turned to Rhia. "I'm gonna go talk to him."

"Okay," she whispered. "I'll leave you guys alone, then. I'll be in my room, if you want me."

"Thanks, honey." Isaac kissed her on the forehead, then slipped quietly around the door, joining his brother on the couch. "You okay?" he asked.

"Just peachy," replied Taylor bitterly. Then he sighed, throwing the towel angrily across the room. "This is my house, Ike! I live here more than he does! Why does he have the power to make me feel so shitty in my own house?"

Isaac put his hand on Taylor's shoulder. "He's a dick, Taylor. They always have the power to make nice guys feel shitty."

"I mean, the whole homemaker thing, and then kissing her! And I can't say anything to him, cause he'll just say he was kidding about the whole thing, and oh, God, Taylor, can't you take a joke? Then he'll tell me that Gabbie's his fiancée and he's allowed to kiss her if he wants, which is true, but it's still pretty lame doing it in front of me!" Finally, he stopped, taking a deep breath and shaking his head. "It just makes me kinda mad," he admitted sheepishly.

Isaac laughed. "It's understandable, buddy, it's understandable."

"But there's not a damned thing I can do about it."

Sighing, Isaac shook his head helplessly. "There's not," he agreed. "Mike's Gabbie's guest. I guess we just have to try and avoid them."

"I don't want to avoid people in my own house!" protested Taylor.

"What other choice do we have?"

Taylor had to admit that there didn't seem to be any other choice.

"You just have to be strong, Tay. Hold your head high, and be thankful that you're not an arrogant jerk like him."

Taylor nodded. "I can do that. How long till he's gone?"

"Two weeks."

"I'm counting the days…"

***

Zac pulled back, squeezing Ollie's hands in his. "I gotta go," he murmured, resting his head against his friend's shoulder. "I told Rachelle I'd walk with her tonight."

"Do you have to?" mumbled Ollie, rubbing Zac's back and holding him closely.

Zac groaned, kissing Ollie's shoulder without even moving his head from its listless position. "You know I do. You heard the arrangements. Out front at nine."

"Well, Casanova, you're already fifteen minutes late."

"Shit!" hissed Zac, checking at his watch, which cheekily flashed 9:15pm, as if making fun of him. "I really have to go. Pass me my shirt?" Zac stood up, tugging on his jeans and refastening them hastily.

Ollie wriggled back into his running pants, reaching out behind him and, after slamming his hand around for a bit on the concrete floor, located the two shirts that had been hastily discarded earlier that evening. "So, you're just gonna leave here, after doing…that…with me, and go do the same to Rachelle?"

Zac grinned. "Rachelle's sort of lacking some equipment for me to do that to her, Ollie."

Ollie made a face. "You know what I mean. One minute, you're down here kissing me, and like a second later, you're out there kissing her. Doesn't that register as even slightly wrong in your brain?"

Sighing, Zac pulled his blue shirt on over his head. "Of course it does," he finally replied quietly. "It's just… We agreed to try this, didn't we? And I could still keep things going with Shell."

Ollie rubbed his hands briskly over his face, as if to wash away the confusion. "That was like two weeks ago, Zaccy. I mean, this is working… Isn't it?" he asked uncertainly. "I mean, it is for me."

"It is for me, too," Zac assured him.

"So will you break up with Rachelle?"

Zac stamped his foot. "God, Ollie, stop with the pressure already!"

"Well, excuse me," spat out Ollie, his voice cold. "Don't you think I have the right to…I dunno…not feel like a piece of meat that you can pick up whenever you want and spit out the rest of the time?"

Zac bit his lip. "Of course you do," he whispered. "I'm sorry, Ollie, I really am. And I will break up with Rachelle. I promise. But I just need a little more time. Can I have that? Please?"

Closing his eyes, Ollie nodded slowly. "I'm sorry for freaking out. I just get so frustrated sometimes, that's all."

"I know." Zac walked towards him, putting his arms around him and pulling him close. "I'm sorry. Just a little while more, I promise."

"Okay," Ollie relented.

"Ollie, you're amazing." Zac squeezed him tightly. "Anyone ever told you that before?"

Ollie smiled at him. "Not lately. Hey, mate, you better go. It's nine-twenty-three."

"Fuck," muttered Zac. Leaning forward, he kissed Ollie softly. "Thank you."

"No problem," Ollie replied, somewhat dejectedly.

Zac kissed him again, then turned and flew from the basement, leaving Ollie sitting alone on top of the washing machine.

He raced through the kitchen and down the hallway, ignoring the surprised shriek from Jennie, whose arms were laden with laundry, then out, through the front door, and onto the porch, where an impatient Rachelle stood, tapping her foot.

"Where have you been?" she demanded. Going by her voice, it sounded like she was wrestling in her mind over whether to kiss him or kill him. Eventually, she seemed to settle for the latter. "It didn't occur to you that maybe I'd be waiting?!"

"I'm so sorry," panted Zac breathlessly. "I ran all the way here!"

"From where?" she asked, her voice raising. "I tried your room, but you weren't there."

"I was…uh…in the bathroom," lied Zac, thinking quickly. "I haven't been eating enough fiber, and I'm kinda-"

"Yeah, okay, okay, enough." Rachelle held up her hand, stopping the colorful description of Zac's bowel movements or lack thereof.

"So am I forgiven?"

She gave a half-snort, half-laugh, shaking her head in amusement. "Yeah, okay. I guess you couldn't help it. Now, how about a proper welcome?"

Zac laughed, leaning forward and kissing her deeply, wondering if he had any scruples or morals left at all. Pulling back, he laced his fingers through hers. "So, where we walking tonight?"

Rachelle shrugged as the pair began to move from the porch and walk down the long driveway. "Just walk, I guess."

"You okay, baby?" Zac murmured, letting go of Rachelle's hand and putting his arm around her shoulders.

"Mmm-hmm," replied Rachelle absently.

"You sure?"

Rachelle nodded, and it seemed final, so Zac let the subject drop. He racked his brains to think of anything else to say to her, but nothing came, so the two just walked in companionable silence for a while, into a woodland area.

Finally, after about twenty minutes of walking without words, Rachelle stopped, tugging on his hand. "Look," she breathed, pointing ahead of her, into a thickets of trees and bushes. "It's a wishing well."

Zac squinted in the darkness, pulling Rachelle closer to him; it was cold. Eventually, he made out a dark, shadowy lump that he figured must be the well. "You like those things?" he asked skeptically. "I didn't figure you for one of those kinds of people."

Rachelle smiled. "Well, you still surprise me sometimes. Can't I still surprise you?"

"Sure," shrugged Zac. "You wanna go look at it?"

"Duh." Rachelle dragged Zac through the greenery, over to the old, obviously abandoned well. Moss covered most of the brickwork, the little roof was missing a lot of its tiles, the twisted wire that should have held the bucket was frayed away, the bucket presumably somewhere at the bottom of the hole. But Rachelle seemed captivated by it. "It's magical, isn't it?" she whispered.

Zac raised his eyebrows. "Magical that it's not been branded a health-risk," he muttered.

"Shut up!" Rachelle rolled her eyes. "Yeah, maybe it's a bit of a mess, but why would anyone declare a forgotten-about wishing well, in the middle of thick woods, a health-risk?"

"Fine, fine, it's beautiful," Zac agreed grudgingly. "You gonna make a wish?"

"Got a penny?"

Sighing, Zac rummaged in his pockets, emerging with a five-pound note, two one-pound coins, a fifty-pence piece and three twenty-pence pieces. Along with a stick of Wrigley's Doublemint and a piece of hard candy, covered in fluff. Grimacing, he threw the candy away, wondering how long it had been in his pocket for. "Uh, no pennies," he told her.

"Any coppers at all?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Sorry, honey. I have twenty pence?" he offered, holding her out the silver, seven-sided piece. "Would that work?"

Rachelle shook her head. "Look." She pointed to a cobwebbed lectern.

Zac wiped the grime and the cobwebs from the information stand and read the printed words through the dirty glass. "Ye Olde Wishing Welle?" he asked, his eyebrows shooting sky high once more. "Good name," he muttered. "To make a wish, one must close one's eyes and open-fist a penny bit into the dark waters. If a splash sounds, the wish will prove to come true."

"Guess this was once a visitor attraction or something," Rachelle mused, scraping at the frosty ground with the toe of her boot.

"Not a very good one," snorted Zac.

"Aww, come on, Zac, it's rural England."

"It's rural Fake land," countered Zac. "Ye Olde Wishing Welle? Come on! Isn't a welly like a boot or something?"

"Yeah, it's Wellington boots, gumboots," replied Rachelle absently. "Hey, look!" She bent down, scraping further at the cold dirt with her fingers. She stood up, a large, dirty coin in her hand. "It's a three-penny bit!" she exclaimed.

"A what?" Zac knew he wasn't exactly down with the Sterling currency, but he was sure he hadn't heard of a three-penny bit. "I've never seen one of those."

Rachelle rubbed hard at the coin, some of the dirt coming off and the metal beginning to shine through. "No, no, you wouldn't have," she told him distractedly. "It's like old currency or something. When they used to work in shillings and stuff. Before decimalization."

"Ohh." Zac nodded knowingly, even though he hadn't a clue what she was talking about. "Yeah, shillings… Isn't that like an illness?"

Rachelle looked at him, confusion marring her face. "How do you mean?"

"Like… Old people get it?"

Rachelle giggled. "That's shingles, silly."

"Oh." Zac dug the toe of his boot in the ground, feeling stupid.

Smiling, Rachelle linked her arm through his and hugged it tightly to her. "C'mon. I wanna make a wish."

"I thought it had to be with a one-penny piece," frowned Zac, allowing himself to be dragged over to the well.

"Yeah, it does. But don't you think with the rustic coin, it'll be like really…rustic?" She shrugged, at a loss for a better word. "Something just tells me it'll work."

"Okay. Whatcha gonna wish for?"

She smiled slyly. "If I tell you, it won't come true." Squeezing his hand tightly, she leaned over, staring into the dark water far down in the well. Closing her eyes, she opened her fist, dropping the old coin into the water. "Listen," she whispered. "See if it splashes."

Zac strained his ears, and eventually, he heard the penny drop into the stagnant water. "Looks like it's gonna come true," he grinned, feeling his mood lighten. Rachelle was right. This place did have a magical, enchanting feel to it. Maybe it was getting to him.

"I hope so," she murmured, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him in for a hug.

He rubbed his hand slowly up and down her back, returning the embrace, feeling her face nestle on his shoulder.

"Mmm… Zac, you smell nice," she mumbled, inhaling deeply. "Different. You buy new cologne?"

Zac frowned, wondering how he could possibly smell different, when he was wearing the same cologne as he'd been wearing since he was fourteen.

"It smells familiar," she continued. "Kinda like Ollie's."

His eyes widening, Zac realized that some of Ollie's cologne must have rubbed off on his earlier. "It's not what you think!" he blurted out quickly.

"What?" she laughed. "What's wrong with sharing cologne?"

Zac breathed a sigh of relief, angry with himself for overreacting. "I just didn't want you to think that I was a cheapskate," he bluffed. "He gave me a couple of squirts earlier."

Rachelle shook her head. "Imagine me thinking that," she chuckled, squeezing him tighter.

"Yeah, imagine," murmured Zac.

"Shh." Taking him lightly by the collar, Rachelle pulled Zac down until she could reach his lips, pressing her mouth against his.

Looking up at the stars, pricking the cold, clear night sky, Zac kissed her back, pushing the guilty knot that seemed to be perpetually in his stomach out of his mind yet again.

***

"Umm, take a left. I think."

"You think?"

"Yes, I think."

"You don't know?"

"No, but I think."

"Don't you think it would be better if you were certain?"

"Don't you think that if I were certain, we wouldn't be in this mess?!" shot back Taylor, throwing the map into the air. "I don't know this country, Ike! If you think you can do such a good job, why don't you navigate?"

"Because I'm driving?" suggested Isaac.

"Is that what you call it?" snorted Jamie.

Twisting round in his seat, Taylor shot her a withering look. "Like you could do better."

"A minute ago you were ragging on him!" cried Jamie incredulously.

"I'm allowed. He's my brother."

Sighing, Isaac signaled and pulled into a lay-by. "Look, we all just have to calm down."

"But we're late!" Jamie made a show of looking at her watch. "Very late."

Rachelle cleared her throat, entering the conversation for the first time. "Isaac, you could call that guy we're meeting with. Tell him we'll be a little late. Ask him for directions."

"Good idea." Isaac climbed out of the car, grabbing his cellphone.

Taylor sprang out of the car after him. "Ike!" he called, running up the grassy embankment after him.

Isaac held up his hand to silence him, turning away and talking seriously and intently into the phone. Eventually, he took it away from his ear and slid down the aerial. "Okay, that helps a lot. We're not far." Looking at Taylor, he frowned. "Why didn't you just stay in the car?"

"Jamie is driving me crazy!" hissed Taylor, bringing his hands to his head. "Why did she have to come?"

"Tay, you know we had to bring some representatives from the band."

"Rachelle's here!"

"Jamie wanted to come. We're in no position to stop her." Shaking his head agitatedly, he looked at his brother. "Why does she bug you so much?"

"Oh, I don't know, Isaac," replied Taylor sarcastically. "Maybe because she's dominating, selfish, bossy and totally annoying?"

Isaac started to laugh. "How much sleep did you get last night, buddy? She doesn't normally get to you this much."

"I'm just tired," sighed Taylor. "I'll deal, okay?"

Raising his eyebrows, Isaac watched as Taylor jerked the door open and threw himself into the passenger seat of their rented Ford Escort. Hoping his brother wasn't going to act like a spoilt brat for the entire meeting with the guy who was going to mix the album, he slid back into his own seat, pulling out onto the M25 motorway and heading in the direction he'd been instructed to.

"This isn't very pretty," noted Jamie, wrinkling her nose up as they headed towards the city of London. "I thought England was supposed to be real scenic."

"When has any city ever been scenic?" shrugged Isaac, signaling to leave the motorway at the next exit.

"Yeah, but it's like so dull and gray," Jamie complained. "It looks like New York, only they spell stuff on the billboards wrong."

"Maybe it wouldn't look so dull and gray if you took off your sunglasses," suggested Taylor scathingly, rolling his eyes. "Why are you wearing them, anyway? It's like March."

"She's a star, bay-bee," drawled Rachelle, snapping her chewing gum.

"Not yet, she's not," Taylor muttered.

"Taylor, would you do me a favor?" asked Rachelle, sweetly.

"Sure."

"Lighten up!" She threw her hands into the air. "This meeting is supposed to be fun, and you're going about like a bear with a sore head." She leaned forward, putting her hand on his shoulder. "This is a really exciting thing for us. The mixing's like the final thing we have to do!"

"Yeah, but we're not ready to mix yet," Taylor reminded her. "This is just a preliminary meeting. We're nowhere near done recording."

"I knowww," moaned Rachelle. "But this kinda makes it real. Be happy for us. Be happy for yourself! We're your people!"

"I am happy for you," insisted Taylor unconvincingly. "I'm just tired and stuff. Sorry."

"And Jamie's sorry, too," smiled Rachelle.

"For what?" demanded Jamie in a monotone, lowering her sunglasses and fixing her ice-blue eyes on Rachelle in a glare.

"Apology accepted," stated Rachelle firmly, ignoring the childish whining coming from both her cousin and her boyfriend's brother. "Just grow up, both of you."

"Hear, hear," muttered Isaac, rolling his eyes. "Give the girl a big hand!"

"I've already got two hands," joked Rachelle, still trying to lighten the mood. "I really don't need another." But Isaac was the only one who laughed.

Presently, they pulled into the parking lot of the studio, Isaac drawing the car to a stop and tugging on the handbrake. Leaving the car, they all traipsed into the building and were escorted by what they assumed was a receptionist into a large room at the back of the building.

"Wow," breathed Taylor, his previous discontentment seemingly gone. "This place is amazing!"

The room they were standing in was practically dripping in musical memorabilia. Numerous guitars lined the wall, Fenders, Gibsons, you name it; a set of drums stood at the back of the room, complete with Zildjian cymbals; keyboards were dotted around, from Yamahas to Korgs; and a huge mixing desk took up the entire length of the right hand wall. A cello was leaning in the back corner, next to a double bass and a few violins; several brass instruments were gathered in the opposite corner. Huge, red, wooden bass and tenor xylophones perched on a table, along with chime bars and large metallophones. A Steinway grand piano seemed to be the centerpiece for the room, lid raised and waiting to be played. But most impressive were the various signed album covers, photographs or promotion posters framed the wall.

"Check this out!" gasped Taylor, still completely awestruck. "It's a signed Sergeant Pepper album!"

Isaac joined him, peering closely at the autographs on the brightly colored Beatles album. "George Harrison really couldn't write," he joked, screwing his nose up.

"There's Elvis!" screeched Jamie, pointing to a large black and white photograph.

"And the Jackson Five," added Rachelle, fingering another album.

"And the Bee Gees."

"And the Stones!"

"The Eagles!"

"Buddy Holly!"

"Man, this stuff is just incredible!" Taylor eased himself down onto the piano stool, running his fingers over the keys.

"Anyone else getting any 'This Time Around' video memories?" joked Isaac as Taylor blew on the keys, stroking them gently with his fingers.

"Shh, this is beautiful," he whispered, ignoring the amused looks the others were exchanging.

"Tay, you've played a grand a million times before," Isaac pointed out. "We have one back in the studio."

"I know. But this baby… She's gorgeous."

"You can play her if you like."

Everyone spun round, to see who was the owner of the deep, British accented voice coming from the doorway. A short, dark man stood there, his blue eyes twinkling behind wire-rimmed spectacles and a black goatee beard on his chin. His black hair was swept straight back into a low ponytail and he was dressed in a beige suit. Grinning, he walked over to the group, extending his hand. "Albert Walkington," he introduced himself. "I'm guessing you're the Kindred Spirit party."

"That would be correct," nodded Isaac, shaking the man's hand. "I'm Isaac Hanson, and this is my brother, Taylor, from HITZ records, and this is Jamie Jenkinson and Rachelle Owen, two of the band members," he added quickly, gesturing to each person as he spoke of them.

Albert smiled again, prompting Taylor to wonder if he ever topped smiling, and hopped up on top of the piano. "Let's get down to business!" he began, clapping his hands together excitedly. "You say you'll be done recording by late April?"

Isaac blinked. "Um, yeah, we should be."

"Okay, well, how about you get the album here to me by May 1st, and I'll get it done for you by the 14th."

"Uh, that should be okay, I guess," replied Isaac slowly.

"Wonderful! Now, I must dash!"

"That's it?" asked Taylor incredulously, his mouth dropping open. He could remember production meetings taking hours and hours.

"What did you expect, a cabaret?" Albert grinned inanely again. "We've all got better things to do than sit around here gabbing, surely!"

"Uh, yeah, I guess."

"How lovely it was to meet you!" Albert jumped down. "Ooh, before I'm off, Isaac, Taylor, would you sign this?" he asked, thrusting a 'Middle Of Nowhere' album cover at them. "Terribly sorry to hear about the little one. It must have been so hard for you!"

Isaac and Taylor exchanged looks, quickly scribbling their signatures on the yellow photograph of themselves. "What are you talking about?" frowned Isaac, completely confused.

"His death and all. Tragic, tragic."

"Zac's not-"

"Anyway, must be off now! Feel free to play the piano, Taylor! Nice to meet you!" And as quick as he'd come, Albert Walkington was gone, leaving behind four thoroughly stunned musicians.

Taylor was the first to speak, shaking his head. "What an odd, odd little man!" he exclaimed, imitating Albert's English accent perfectly.

"No kidding. Did we dream this?" Isaac massaged his temples, still totally bewildered.

"Umm, I don't think so…" giggled Jamie. "That was so weird though."

"Totally…" Taylor pushed his hair out of his eyes and started to play the first thing that popped into his head.

Recognizing it, Isaac began to sing. "What would you do if I sang out of tune…"

Taylor smiled, joining in. "Would you stand up and walk out on me…"

Rachelle and Jamie leaned on the piano, watching and listening, smiles playing on their faces.

"Lend me your ear and I'll sing you a song, and I'll try not to sing out of key…"

Taylor hit a wrong note, grimaced, and corrected himself. "Key.."

"Ooh, I'll get by with a little help from my friends, ooh, I'm gonna try with a little help from my friends…"

"Skip to the 'hey everybody' bit," hissed Isaac.

Nodding, Taylor changed the rhythm.

"Hey everybody, you need somebody to love, hey everybody, you got somebody to love…"

Suddenly, Taylor stopped. "It's not right," he sighed.

"You're playing it fine."

"No, it's not right," he insisted. "Something's missing."

Isaac was silent, biting on his lip.

"Someone's missing," finished Taylor, quietly. Slowly, he pushed himself away from the piano and walked sedately towards the door. "I'll be in the car."

Isaac sighed, watching his brother's retreating figure disappear. Taylor was right. They needed Zac to sound good. They needed Zac to sound like Hanson. They needed Zac to be that trio. But, lately, the absence of the youngest third of that trio was becoming more and more prominent.

***

"Knock-knock?"

Taylor rolled over on his bed, groaning. Isaac. Why couldn't he understand that Taylor just wanted some time alone? Ignoring him, he pulled the pillow over his face.

"Knock-knock?" It came again, this time not so playful.

Taylor, however, still ignored him.

"Oh, shit, Taylor, just open the Goddamn door!" exploded Isaac, pounding his fist against it.

Smiling to himself, Taylor relented, giving in. "It's open," he mumbled.

Isaac walked in, closing the white, wooden door behind him and sitting down on the bed, next to where Taylor lay. "Why didn't you answer?"

"I was asleep," lied Taylor. "What's up?"

"Just wondering if you were okay, that's all."

"I'm fine."

"You've barely said a word since the meeting this morning."

"I guess I don't have much to say."

Isaac sighed. "Tay, what's up?"

"The ceiling? The sky? George Michael's dick?"

Swatting him with a pillow, Isaac chuckled. "Why George Michael?"

"First name that popped into my head," shrugged Taylor.

Isaac smiled, then straightened his face. "Seriously. What's bugging you?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not."

"Tay, you're gonna be nineteen in a couple of weeks. Act it!"

Taylor just stared at him, his blue eyes cold and hard.

Isaac pursed his lips, changing tactics. "Come on, Tay. You can tell me," he wheedled gently, desperately wanting to help his brother.

Taylor exhaled slowly. "It's just everything, I guess. I'm not happy here, Ike. I miss Mom and Dad, and all the kids, and I'm totally uncomfortable with Mike being here, and Zac's just being a complete pig.." he trailed off, shaking his head wearily.

Isaac lowered himself down until he was lying beside his younger brother, propping himself up on his elbow. He reached out and tugged lightly on Taylor's hair, tenderly tucking it behind his ear. "I'm sorry you're having such a bad time, buddy. Mike's going soon though. He is. Like ten days. Can you stick it out till then?"

"God, I dunno," moaned Taylor dramatically. "I'm just so completely fed up here. I mean, you've got Rhia, Zac's got Rachelle and Ollie, Jamie's got Jennie and Niamh and Gabbie and I've got no one. No one. I'm just so lonely."

"Tay, you've got me. You've always got me. Don't bullshit me, you know that."

Taylor nodded grudgingly.

"And you've got Rhia. She loves you like you're her own brother."

"I practically am," Taylor reminded him.

"And it's not like the others don't like you. Niamh, especially, she's got a bit of a soft spot for you."

"You think so?"

"Sure." Isaac pushed his shoulder. "You're okay, Tay. And we're going home pretty soon. We're past halfway finished."

"I guess," admitted Taylor, still reluctant to stop with his self-pity.

"And you're better than Mike. The guy's a big, smarmy sleaze. We all like you better."

"Except Gabbie," Taylor pointed out.

"Screw Gabbie."

"I already did," deadpanned Taylor, dryly.

Isaac stared at him, holding his gaze for a full minute before they both burst into gales of laughter. "Oh, God," he coughed out. "I didn't… I…"

"I know," chuckled Taylor, patting Isaac's arm.

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Taylor called.

The door swung open. "Now there's a sight I haven't seen for years. My two oldest boys in bed together."

Isaac and Taylor sprang upwards, staring open-mouthed at the figure who stood in the doorway.

"What are you doing - catching flies?"

Taylor was the first to move. "Dad!" he yelped, bouncing off the bed and running to the doorway, throwing his arms around him. "What are you doing here?"

"Yeah, I thought you weren't coming for another few weeks," added Isaac, following suit and hugging his father tightly.

"I wasn't. But you mom wanted at least one of us to be here for your birthday, Tay."

"Oh, God, it's so good to see you," murmured Taylor, burying his face into his dad's shoulder, feeling like a little boy.

"And you guys, and you guys," replied Mr Hanson, rubbing his sons' backs. "And I have a little surprise for you both."

"You do?"

"Yeah." He cupped his hands around his mouth, forming a makeshift megaphone. "Oh, surpri-ise!" he yelled. "Come he-ere!"

"Surprise!" The 'surprise' jumped into the room, her arms high in the air, face red and eyes filling with tears.

"Jess!" gasped Taylor. "Oh, God, Jess, Jess, Jess, Jess, Jess!" He ran to her, scooping her up and wrapping his arms around her.

"Oh, God, Tay, Tay, Tay, Tay, Tay!" mimicked Jessica, laughing as the tears began to fall from her eyes.

Taylor didn't answer, only held her tightly for what seemed like hours, stroking down her blonde hair, then finally pulling back to kiss her on the cheek. "Jessie," he whispered, running his finger down her cheek. "It's been so long…"

"Tell me about it," smiled Jessica, hugging her brother tightly once more. Over his shoulder, she spied Isaac, watching the emotional reunion with a small smile on his lips. She kissed Taylor, then pulled back, walking over to her oldest brother and throwing her arms around him.

Isaac lifted her up, kissing her hard on the cheek, then squeezing her close to him. "Hey, Jess," he murmured. "Great to see ya."

"Same here, you goof," she smiled, wiping away her tears and leaning her cheek on his shoulder. "Where's the jerk?"

"Zac's out somewhere with his friend, Ollie," replied Taylor, joining his older brother and younger sister in a three-way hug. "I can't wait for you to meet everyone, Jessie."

"Me neither," she smiled. "But I wanna see Zac. When is he back?"

"Soon," replied Taylor, smiling contentedly. "Soon."

He stood there, arms around his brother and sister, his dad smiling across at them, feeling an incredible weight lifted off his shoulders. Now that his father and Jessica were here, Taylor felt an awful lot better about staying in England for the last half of the recording process.

He looked up to the ceiling, biting on his lips. It was as if the Big Guy upstairs had answered his prayers. Thank you, God, he thought. Thank you so much.

***

Taking a deep breath, Zac pushed open the door to the basement, closing it tightly behind him, and bounced downstairs, finding Ollie waiting, seated on the stone floor, arms and legs crossed. "Hey, Ol!"

"Hey, yourself!" Ollie jumped to his feet, and the two boys embraced each other, exchanging kisses. "What kept you?" mumbled Ollie, in between showering Zac's face with light pecks.

"I met Jennie in the hallway," replied Zac, his words coming out hurried and breathy as he returned the favor, kissing Ollie's cheeks and forehead. "She…uh…" Zac stopped, allowing Ollie to engulf his mouth in his, in a deeper kiss. "She…wow." He groaned as Ollie began to nibble on his earlobe. "Man, you're good."

"I know. They don't call me Sex Machine Ol for nothing."

Zac giggled. "Who calls you that?" Then he frowned, a look of mock-anger shadowing his face. "And who, exactly, have you been doing this to other than me?" he demanded, trying to keep a straight face.

"Only the milkman," replied Ollie seriously, darting his tongue quickly into Zac's ear. "You know, they don't call it Fresh 'n' Lo for nothing."

"What has Fresh 'n' Lo got to do with the price of fish?" chuckled Zac, running his fingers through Ollie's hair.

"Oh, I dunno. It just sounded good." Ollie shrugged, finally pulling away from Zac. "What did Jennie want?"

Zac pushed his hair back, wiping the thin sheen of sweat from his brow. "She wanted to know where she could take the bus into town, that's all. She's skipping the mixing meeting in favor of going shopping with Niamh."

"Wise decision. What are Gabbie and Mike doing?"

Zac made a face, crossing his eyes. "Probably having some mammoth sex session or something. I heard Gabbie say to Mike that the only people left in the house would be a passionate couple and two little boys."

Ollie smiled saucily, pressing his lips against Zac and slipping his tongue in his mouth. Pulling back, he frowned, pretending to think. "Now, I can see why Gabbie's calling Mike a little boy, but why herself?"

"Yes, cause we're definitely the passionate couple," Zac chortled. "In our Basement Brothel."

"The Dungeon Of Sex Shame," quipped Ollie, running his hands up and down Zac's chest.

"The-"

But Ollie cut off Zac's line of thought by shoving his moist lips against Zac's full ones, and kissing him properly for the first time. Their mouths and tongues moving in synchronization, they somehow wrestled each other to the floor, still adjoined at the lip, and lay there, kissing and kissing, neither of them ever wanting to stop.

Zac moaned in his mind, feeling Ollie's tongue running softly along his teeth. Why did he find this so much more erotic than when he was kissing Rachelle? Kissing Rachelle was something he loved doing, but it was all just so forced. Rachelle kissed hard and hungrily, which was fine with Zac a lot of the time, but sometimes he wanted something gentler, someone who could tease him and excite him like Ollie could. Kissing Rachelle was like a birthday - a lovely gift, a nice meal and a good time. But kissing Ollie was like the Fourth Of July, combined with Christmas and Thanksgiving - breathtaking fireworks, presents all round and the best meal of the year. It wasn't that he didn't like kissing Rachelle. In fact, if he hadn't kissed Ollie, he'd probably think it was the best thing in the world. But Ollie… Ollie was something else. He could turn Zac on like a faucet, and he tasted different. Rachelle tasted sweet and feminine, which, of course, there was nothing wrong with. But Ollie tasted more rugged and masculine, although he definitely wasn't a masculine kinda guy; Zac guessed it must be the testosterone or something. And there was the added bonus that whenever Zac kissed Ollie, he didn't get dark colored lipstick all over his face.

Ollie climbed on top of Zac, still kissing him, until Zac's face gathered together in a look of pain. "What's wrong?" asked Ollie, a little breathless.

"The floor's hard."

"It's not the only thing." Ollie's eyes trailed down Zac's body to the small tent that had formed in his jeans, and then to his own show of excitement.

Zac groaned, closing his eyes as Ollie started kissing his neck, then he felt his shirt being tugged over his head, and his friend's lips on his bare chest and stomach. As Ollie started fiddling with the button on his jeans, Zac felt light-headed, his blood pulsating through his body and gathering in a certain place. He let Ollie tug off his snug-fitting jeans, raising his hips off the floor to make it easier. He felt Ollie dropping tiny, light kisses on his inner thighs, nearing up towards the leg of his boxers.

Then Ollie stopped kissing, and trailed his tongue down the length of Zac's torso, from his neck to the elastic waistband of his underwear.

Zac almost screamed in frustration, the throbbing he was feeling almost unbearable.

Ollie ran his finger underneath the elastic, then pulled back, suddenly shy.

"No, no, no," Zac groaned. "You can't stop. You can't. You just can't, Ollie," he whimpered, pushing his partner's hand in between his legs.

Ollie just stared at Zac, his face reddening, speaking quietly. "Do you want me to…" he trailed off, looking meaningfully at the red boxer shorts, the only thing besides socks on Zac Hanson's body.

"Put it this way," Zac whispered. "Either you do it for me, or I'm gonna have to handwash myself, if you know what I mean."

Ollie bit on his lip, seemingly unsure.

Zac reached out and took his hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it. "You don't have to if you don't want to," he murmured comfortingly. "But you were doing great, Ollie. I've never…"

But he didn't need to finish the sentence. Ollie grinned sexily, his confidence restored. "Red undies, Zac. Must mean only one thing…"

"I wore them…specially…for you," Zac gasped out, as the underwear was whipped from his body.

"How sweet of you," mumbled Ollie, kissing Zac's heaving stomach. Then, slowly, slowly, he reached out and took Zac in his hand, instinctively knowing how to stroke him, gently, gently, till Zac thought he could take it no more.

"Faster," he groaned. "Faster."

"Faster?" Ollie grinned wickedly, looking down at his red-faced, ruddy-cheeked, sweat-drenched boyfriend. He ran his fingers along the length of it slowly, barely grazing it.

Zac whimpered, tears forming in his eyes. "Ollie, don't. Please!" he hissed desperately.

Seeing the pain Zac was in, Ollie smiled, moving his hand faster and faster, but still gently. "That better, Zaccy?"

"Oh, yeah…" Zac sighed in relief, the pain beginning to subside, just slightly. Having someone else do it felt weird. But weird in a good way. Ollie was so much more caring, so much more slow and gentle than when Zac did it himself, which provided so much torture, followed by such pleasure that Zac was beginning to wonder if maybe he was a masochist. He wiped the sweat from his cheeks as Ollie continued to work him, then a shiver up his spine told Zac that he was close. "Ollie," he choked out. "I'm gonna…"

Nodding knowingly, Ollie backed off, watching as Zac's pleasure manifested itself and his boyfriend sighed, flopping down limply - in more places than one - on the cold stone floor.

"Oh…my…God…" Zac finally breathed out, his heart still racing.

Ollie lay down beside him, stroking his damp hair from his face. "Was that good, baby?" he murmured, kissing Zac's forehead tenderly.

"It was incredible," murmured Zac, pulling Ollie down and kissing him. "Thank you."

"My pleasure."

Zac closed his eyes, feeling his pulse rate beginning to return to normal. He bit on his lower lip, not wanting to open his eyes, because he knew that if he did, he would find Ollie looking lovingly down on him. It was a look that Zac wanted to see more than anything, but at the same time, one he didn't want to see.

Now that the fun was over, Zac had suddenly remembered that this sort of activity went against everything his religion told him, and that this was wrong. Would he be punished for loving Ollie, and for enjoying activities like this? But he asked himself the same question for the millionth time - if it was so wrong, how could it feel so right?

Pushing the uneasy thought from his head, Zac opened his eyes, and sure enough, found him staring straight into Ollie's.

"You okay?" Concern lined Ollie's face.

"I'm more than okay," Zac told him softly.

Ollie reached out, running his finger down the side of Zac's face. "You're beautiful, Zac."

"You're not so bad yourself," replied Zac, sitting up. "Hey, Ol, want me to return the favor?" he offered. "I noticed something of yours standing to attention earlier."

Ollie gave an embarrassed laugh and rolled over, showing Zac the tell-tale wet patch on his jeans. "I guess doing you was more fun for me than I realized." He hung his head.

Zac laughed, putting his arms around him from behind and pressing his hot, sweaty cheek against Ollie's cool one. "Never mind, mate." He kissed him on the tip of his nose. "Next time, we do you first."

Ollie smiled, glad that Zac wasn't making a big deal out of it.

"Guess I'd better get some clothes on," mused Zac, wriggling back into his underwear, and then his jeans.

Ollie held his shirt out for him and helped him put it on.

"Thank you, Oliver," chirped Zac, wondering if the happy glow he was feeling would ever subside.

"Oh, you are most welcome, Zachary," replied Ollie, giving Zac a rueful head-shake and kissing him again.

Just as Zac was about to respond to the kiss, he heard a rattling at the door. "Shit!" he cursed. "Ollie, what do we do?"

"I dunno!" Ollie looked about him helplessly.

"Quick! In there!"

"You are joking!" laughed Ollie incredulously.

"Do I look like I'm joking?!" Zac shoved Ollie into the tiny cupboard. The door wouldn’t shut, so he draped a blanket over the cabinet, wincing as he heard Ollie sneeze.

Finally, the door swung open. "Zac, are you in here?"

Rachelle. Cursing his bad luck, Zac called, "Yeah, I'm here."

She came down the steps gracefully, wrinkling her nose up. "What are you doing down here?"

"Just thinking," replied Zac.

"Aww, babe," she murmured, slipping her arms around his waist. "What about?"

"Just stuff." Zac winced at the vagueness of his answers.

"Eww, you're all sweaty," noted Rachelle.

"It gets hot down here," lied Zac.

"It's freezing!" she giggled. "Are you okay, honey?"

"Yeah, just a little...dazed."

"I'll make you better," offered Rachelle, sliding her tongue into his mouth and kissing him hungrily.

Zac kissed back, his heart pounding, painfully aware of Ollie in the cupboard.

"Is that better?"

"Uh, yeah," answered Zac.

But in reality, that incredible kiss from Rachelle had just made things a whole lot worse.

***

"One lump or two?"

"One lump or two?"

"One lump or two?"

"It's up to you!" Rhia, Jamie and Jennie yelled in unison, dissolving into giggles.

Mr Hanson shook his head, a smile forming on his lips. "Things must be pretty crazy in this house if you can't even make me a cup of tea without it turning into a Broadway musical," he chuckled. "But since you asked first, Rhia, one lump will do fine, thank you."

Smiling as she dropped a sugar lump into the teacup, she turned to Jessica, who was sat at the table, in between Taylor and Isaac, peering out through the kitchen window, apparently looking for something. "Jess, can I get you something?"

"Uh, no thanks, Rhia," replied Jessica, still staring out of the window.

Taylor nudged her. "Come on, honey, you're in England. Don't you want tea?"

"We've got tea back home," Jessica reminded him, still not shifting her gaze. "What we don't have back home, though, is Zac. I wanna see Zac. Where is he?"

Rhia stood behind the younger girl, placing her hands on her shoulders. "Rachelle went to find him, sweetie. He'll be here soon."

Jessica shrugged, as if she didn't quite believe Rhia, and slumped down in her chair. "Sure, okay," she muttered despondently.

Just then, the door scraped open, and Zac and Rachelle shuffled through it. Zac stopped, stock-still, staring at the gathering around the table. "Dad?" he finally managed to utter. "Jess? What are you guys doing here?"

"Gee, Zac, you sound pleased to see us," snorted Jessica, rolling her eyes. "I missed you, too."

"We came a little early," explained his father. "We couldn't let Tay's birthday go by without at least one of his parents. So here we are."

"Oh. Hey." Zac shifted his weight from foot to foot awkwardly, as if he was unsure of what to say. "Umm, look, I have to finish some dumb assignment, so I'll catch you guys later." And he spun on his heel, quickly exiting the room.

Jessica bit on her lip, trying desperately to stop the tears forming in her eyes. "Guess he hasn't changed then." She spoke quietly, and everyone could tell that she was struggling to keep the tears out of her voice.

Taylor put his arms around her and hugged her, kissing the top of her head. "Don't take it personally, honey," he murmured gently. "Zac's just having a bad time right now."

"A bad time?" Jessica pulled back, her eyes glittering angrily. "It's not like freakin' PMT, Taylor! He's not just like this one week out of the month! It's all the Goddamn time! He's not even happy to see his own father, who hasn't seen him since New Years, practically!" She jumped up. "I'm gonna see him."

She could hear Taylor protesting, but she ignored him, running up the stairs and pushing open every door until she saw her next-oldest brother sprawled out on one of the beds.

"Some assignment," she muttered, walking in and closing the door behind her.

Zac glared at her. "Do you always barge in uninvited?"

Jessica shrugged. "I treat people with the same respect as they treat me," she told him coolly.

"Oh, and what's that supposed to mean?" challenged Zac, sitting upright.

"God, he's stupid as well as ugly!" Jessica commented to no one in particular.

"Wonderful!" spat Zac. "A thirteen year old with attitude. Just what we need."

Narrowing her eyes, Jessica leaned closer to him. "Let's get one thing straight, buddy. Maybe you can do this to Ike, because he's a chronic people-pleaser. Maybe you can do this to Tay, because he's so desperate to get you back that he'll let it go. But you can't do it to me, Zachary Walker Hanson. You can't fuck with me, because I don't fucking care and I'm not fucking scared of a stupid, arrogant asshole like you!"

Zac stared at her. "Don't use that kind of language, Jess, it's really not attractive," he said finally, quickly followed by, "Since when do you swear, anyway?"

"Since I have to make a point to a jumped up idiot like you!" Jessica shot back.

"Oh, God! How much time have you been spending with Rachelle?" muttered Zac. "You sound just like she used to…"

"I haven’t even met Rachelle!" Jessica threw her hands in the air. "I wouldn’t know her if she jumped up and bit me!"

"She was the one that came up from the basement with me."

"I knew that. I know who she is. Rhia told me she was looking for you. I haven't spoken to her, though."

"So what's with all the yelling and stuff?" asked Zac. "It's not exactly your normal style."

Jessica just shook her head. "Zac, come on." She eventually spoke, her voice cracking and tears welling in her eyes. "Aren't you even a little pleased to see me?"

Zac sighed. "Oh, Jess. Of course I am. Come here." Biting his lip, he awkwardly pulled his sister against his chest, squeezing her uncomfortably. "It's good to see you, sweetie, it is."

"Funny way of showing it," Jessica sniffled, wiping her nose. "And you've really upset Dad, Zac. Why can't you hug him?"

"Guys don't hug other guys, Jess."

"Ike and Tay do."

"Ike and Tay are gay!" snapped Zac, fully aware that he was, in fact, the one experimenting with the same sex.

"Ike and Tay are not!" gasped Jessica, her voice raising an octave as a result of her incredulity.

"Oh, sure," scoffed Zac. "I wouldn't be surprised if they're doing each other."

Jessica shot him a withering look. "Not funny, Zachary. Don't you remember that press conference back in August 1999? The one where they thought you and Taylor were doing each other?"

Zac reddened a little, but continued with his assault. "Yeah, but Ike and Tay, man. They sit in the third floor window and hug each other. I saw from the street. It's not natural!"

"Loving your brother isn't natural?" Jessica raised her eyebrows. "Zac, you know Ike and Tay have always been that close. They love each other more than anyone else in the world, I think, and the rest of us, too. But they're not in love, you shit-head. And there was a time when you'd have been included in that window hug," she added, looking at him pointedly.

"Yeah, but now I know how gay it is." Zac cursed himself inside, knowing that he was digging a deeper and deeper hole, considering what he'd just done with Ollie in the Basement Brothel/Dungeon Of Sex Shame, but his voice seemed to be on auto-pilot, spilling out more and more attacks on his brothers.

"How do Ike and Tay put up with you?" Jessica's voice was sad as she stared at her brother with wide eyes. "What's happened to you, Zac?"

"I grew up," replied Zac, shortly.

"No, you didn't. If anything, you've regressed, not progressed."

"What's with all the big words?"

"I'm not a kid, Zac. I know big words. I can even spell onomatopoeia," she told him, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she rolled her eyes.

"Ooh, that's wonderful, Jess. When you're the number one speller in the country, can I share some of your earnings?"

Jessica just stared at him, hurt, chewing on her lower lip. "Don't you love us anymore?" she whispered, shifting her gaze to avoid looking at him.

Zac sighed, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow.

"We used to be close, Zac," she reminded him, tears audible in her voice. "We were all close. Why do you keep isolating yourself from us?"

Zac didn't move.

She lay down beside him, leaning her face against his arm. "I love you, Zac," she murmured, finally. "I don't know why, because you've always been so mean to me, but I do."

Zac remained still, apparently deaf to his sister's words.

She sighed. "I love you," she repeated. "Ike loves you. Tay loves you. Avie loves you; she was so desperate to come see you, especially. Mackie loves you; you're the closest brother he's got, and he's so similar to you, Zac. He's a mini-Zac. And Zoë loves you, too. So do Mom and Dad. We all do. Why can't you love us? Please!" Finally she gave in, letting the tears fall. She didn't know if it was because she was jet-lagged and tired, or because she was really so upset, or a mixture of both, but she had to give in and let them fall.

Lying with his face in the pillow, Zac heard his sister crying. His heart began to ache, and he was torn between wishing she'd go away and rolling over and holding her close. So he lay exactly the way he had been for the past two minutes, pretending that he couldn't hear anything Jessica was saying. But in reality, he heard her pleas, he heard her declarations of love.

And he heard the door slam as she flew from his bedroom.

Chapter Nine
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