Worthy of the Dissonance (Mountains & Men Book 3)

by R. C. Martin

  In a way, it reminds me of Pepper’s home, only older; but not in an unattractive way, in an extremely cozy way. Their suede, leather furniture gives the room a comfy-cabin feel, with blankets draped over the back of every armchair and couch. Family photos are everywhere—across the mantle above the fireplace and hung up in large frames along the walls. The Christmas tree in the corner is gigantic, the vaulted ceilings accommodating its height just fine. On every end table, and in the center of the coffee table, there are dishes filled with candy.

  The kitchen looks as I suppose it should, given the nature of Sage’s parents’ work. There are three ovens, all of which look to be in use, and an island where Mrs. McCoy’s stove top resides, next to a beautiful, deep sink on a dark granite counter. Pots and pans hang above the island, but much like the sitting room, they don’t look like they serve as much more than decoration. Then again, with all the cabinet space, I’m sure there’s plenty of room to store what gets used from day to day.

  When Sage suggested that we come inside where it was warm, I’m sure he was referring to the temperature. Now that I’m in here, I feel like it’s so much more than that. Taking a second look around, I see Harry in the living room with his sons; a man I presume is Sage’s father sits across from him, Sophia nestled in his arms. Pepper, Rose, and their mother are all in the kitchen, tidying up from what looks like a morning cooking marathon. Seeing them all together is proof that the atmosphere is inviting in and of itself. I understand Sage a little bit more just having stepped foot into his childhood home. I understand why—in spite of the rocky relationship he has with his parents—he still feels welcome here. This place wouldn’t be complete without him. Somehow, I just know that.

  Family. This house is a home because they’re a family.

  “Hey! Sage and Millie are here,” cries Rose, turning away from the stove to rush over to us. She reaches up and presses down on Sage’s shoulder, and he leans over so she can reach his cheek, greeting him with a kiss. “Merry Christmas,” she tells us before wrapping me in a side hug.

  “Here, let me take those,” says Pepper, reaching for Sage’s bags. “Merry Christmas!” She reaches up to kiss Sage’s cheek, too. Then, to my surprise, she presses her cheek to mine in a friendly hello. “It’s really great to see you, Millie,” she says sincerely, offering me a sad smile before turning to head toward the tree to deposit gifts.

  I watch her go, combating the memories of Christmas past; ignoring the unexplainable sadness of knowing that I can neither re-write my history with Natalya Valentine, nor change our future. To think on such things is a fantasy based on the the improbable thoughts derived from what if. In reality, deep down I know that if my mother were still alive, today would be no different than any other day. There would be no visit. No phone call. No card. Nothing.

  Sage’s lips press against my temple, pulling me from my thoughts. I close my eyes, relishing in the feel of his warm, wet lips against my skin, and then free a soft sigh.

  “You okay, baby doll?”

  I look up at him and offer him a small smile, his amazing blue eyes bringing me back to the present—back to reality—back home. “Yeah,” I reply with a nod. “I’m good.”

  “Good. I’ve got some people I want you to meet.”

  My stomach knots up, but I dip my head in a nod anyway. He then leads me into the kitchen just as his mother turns away from one of the ovens. She’s taller than both of her daughters. Taller than me, too. She can’t be any shorter than five-nine. She’s got a curvy figure and dark features—her eyes the same color as Peppers, her hair the same color as Sage and Rosemary’s. Her thick mane is pulled up into a bun on the top of her head, a couple gray strands hanging loose around her face. Not surprisingly, she’s beautiful. I imagine that in her day, she turned more than a few heads.

  I watch as her eyes glance at me before they settle on her son. She smiles at him, as if just the sight of him in her kitchen warms her heart. Closing the distance between them, she lifts her hands up to hold his cheeks and says, “How I’ve missed this handsome face.”

  “Hi, mom,” Sage replies, a smile in his voice.

  “I don’t see you enough.”

  “I’ve been busy, mom.”

  “Gallivanting around the country, I know,” she says with an eye roll. “Doesn’t change the fact that I don’t see you enough.”

  “I’m here now,” he reminds her, reaching up to cover one of her hands with his free one.

  “Yes, my sweet boy, I suppose you are right.”

  “Mom,” he starts to say, pulling her hands away from his face. “I want you to meet Millie, my girlfriend.”

  “Ah, yes—the older woman I only know about because my daughters are gossips. Thank the heavens for that,” she says, lifting an accusatory eyebrow at Sage before her big, brown eyes settle on me. She studies my face as if she’s sure she’ll be able to find something there. In spite of the small smile that plays at her lips, her perusal is very intimidating.

  “Millie, this is my mom, Abrielle,” Sage continues, ignoring his mother’s comment.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I say, offering her my hand. “Thank you for allowing me to spend the holiday with your family. Your house is beautiful, and it smells delicious in here.”

  She presses her lips together and hums a laugh. I’m not sure what’s funny, and suddenly I feel a blush creeping up into my cheeks.

  “Flattery is not necessary, Millie,” she tells me, reaching for my hand. She doesn’t shake it, but instead curls her fingers under mine. She looks back at Sage, causing me to do the same. He must feel my gaze, because his eyes meet mine before he winks at me.

  “He loves you,” Abrielle says softly, earning my attention once more.

  Her eyes linger on her son for a moment longer before she shifts her stare back onto me. I’m not sure what to say in response, so I say nothing.

  “You wouldn’t be here if he didn’t. He’s not brought a girl into my home in years—let alone a woman.”

  I hold my breath, still uncertain what to make of all that she’s saying.

  “What I mean is, if he loves you, you don’t need to thank me for allowing you to be here today. If he brought you, there is a certain amount of significance to your presence, one that my husband and I will respect. Not to mention, if you are as important as my girls claim that you are, it’s about damn time that I met you.”

  “You can stop saying if, mom,” Sage insists, dropping my hand in order to wrap his arm around my waist.

  She purses her lips together, like she’s fighting a grin, but the twinkle in her eye as she looks upon her son cannot be hidden. I wonder what it means—all the things she says with her eyes; all that goes unspoken but not misunderstood by the ones who know her.

  “Very well,” she says, letting go of my hand. I’m startled when she reaches for my chin, gripping me gently as she takes a step closer. “I heard about your mother, Millie,” she practically whispers. “Simply dreadful. I can’t even imagine, especially on days like today. I lost my mother when she was far too young, before I was a mother myself. It is a loss you will carry with you; a loss that will define you in ways you might not ever notice. I am so sorry. So long as you are here, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  My mouth falls open, my words fleeing my brain. I have no idea what I was expecting her to say upon our introduction, but certainly not any of that. Furthermore, I’m not so sure that our losses can be compared. I don’t know that the death of my mother will define me. I lost her a long time ago—when I was six years old. Nevertheless, Abrielle’s kind words are not ones that I wish to take for granted.

  “Um—thank you,” I stutter.

  She offers me a nod before she turns back to the kitchen. “Introduce her to your father, Sage. We’ll do presents in a few minutes.”

  “Yes, please, introduce me to the illustrious woman who has been a topic of conversation at my dinner table more than once over the past few months,” a
voice booms from directly behind us.

  I jump in surprise, and Sage chuckles before turning me to face his father.

  Unlike his wife, who seems tall by a woman’s standards, Mr. McCoy seems short by a man’s. Or, I suppose, shorter than I expected. He’s probably a tad bit taller than Abrielle, but Sage has him beat by at least an inch or two. Yet, despite his stature, he’s a very well-built man with broad shoulders and what looks like plenty of lean muscle. His irises are as blue as the sky, and I now see where Sage and Rose get their eyes from. His hair, cut much like Sage’s—parted down the side and slicked back—is a light brown with just a kiss of red in its hue, explaining where Pepper got her auburn hair.

  “Dad, this is Millie,” says Sage, interrupting my thoughts. “Millie, this is my dad, Ewan.”

  Sophia, who is still in Ewan’s arms, frees a squeal of delight at the sight of me. She then launches her body in my direction. Ewan laughs, taking a step toward me, and I gasp, holding my hands up to catch her.

  “Well, if my granddaughter likes you, you’ve already earned the best character reference around,” he says, relinquishing the baby into my arms.

  Sophia squeals again, her fingers grabbing two fistfuls of my hair. I smile at her before I look at Ewan and explain, “I think it’s my hair she likes.”

  “I’d say that’s a fine start. It’s good to see you, son,” he says, clapping a hand on Sage’s shoulder.

  “You too, dad.”

  “Well, don’t just stand there. Offer the lady a seat. The fun’s about to start.”

  “Time fo pesents?” Carter calls out, his little head popping up from over the couch.

  “Yeah, little man,” Sage replies with a laugh, escorting me to the next room. “Time for presents.”

  PRESENTS TAKE FOREVER, as usual. Mom only ever allows one person to open a gift at a time, not wanting to miss a thing. It was torture when we were younger, now it’s mostly fun to watch the boys wait anxiously for their turn. I like to mess with them, taking my sweet-ass time when I’m up. Yet, as fun as it is, I’m starving by the time we’re finished.

  Harry and I help dad pick up all the wrapping paper trash while my mom starts ordering Rosy and Pepper around the kitchen. They set the table and finish prepping the food while Millie holds Sophia, who dozed off about fifteen minutes ago. When we’re finished in the living room, Harry spreads out a blanket on the floor so that Soph can continue sleeping while we eat. Maestro lays down on the far corner of the blanket, as if keeping watch, and Pepper snaps a picture before we all head to the table.

  Mom went all out, as she always does, and the food is fucking amazing. Rosy takes credit where credit is due, and we all sing their praises as we devour our meal.

  “So, Millie, Rosemary tells us you’re a college professor,” says dad as he wipes at his mouth with his napkin.

  “That’s right,” my girl responds with a nod, setting down her fork. “I teach calculus.”

  “No kidding?” he asks, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

  “Yeah.” Millie smiles at me, as if expressing her amusement of my old man’s reaction. “I just finished my fifth semester on staff.”

  “Well, I’ll be. Pretty and smart—how’d you end up with my boy, here?”

  “What are you trying to say, dad?” I ask jokingly.

  “I’m just curious to know how you two met. I know you didn’t bump into each other on a college campus.”

  I clear my throat, his not-so-subtle dig extinguishing my amusement. I don’t say anything in return, biting my tongue as I look to Millie to answer his initial question.

  Her eyes meet mine and I’m gifted another smile as she says, “I actually met him at one of his shows. My roommate invited me out, and Sage—he was incredible.”

  Reaching over underneath the table, I rest my hand on her thigh, giving her a gentle squeeze.

  “It’s refreshing to see a woman of your age with your caliber in such a noble profession,” says mom. “Perhaps you can convince our son of the finer parts of obtaining a proper education.” I fight a groan, suddenly feeling nauseous at the sight of the dead horse she just threw in the middle of the table. They’ve been beating the shit out of the thing for years. “He can hardly consider it a possibility to make a sustainable living working at a coffee shop for the rest of his youth,” she goes on to say.

  “Actually…” Millie starts and then she stops. She turns to catch my eye as her hand covers the one I have resting on her leg; then she clears her throat as she looks back at my mom. “As much as I believe in the power of knowledge and the advantage of an education, I can also understand why it isn’t for everyone. Sage has a brilliant mind. He’s very creative and talented. His keys to success aren’t lying in wait in a classroom. At least, I don’t think so.”

  “She’s a goner, Abbi,” dad says with a knowing grin. “We’ve lost her to the other side.”

  “I suppose we never stood a chance, as she’s been kept in captivity all these months,” mom teases in return.

  “You guys are ridiculous,” Rosy says with an eye roll. “Millie’s right, though. Besides, Sage is doing great! And his days at Little Bird are over, so he won’t be living the coffee shop life anymore, anyway.”

  “What do you mean, his days at Little Bird are over?” mom asks, no longer amused.

  Rosy sits bolt upright, her wide eyes seeking mine from across the table.

  “Sage,” Pepper mutters with a glare. “Tell me this is not news to our dear mother.”

  I clear my throat as I lean back in my chair, smoothing my hand over my hair as I avoid eye contact with either of my sisters.

  “Oh, for crying out loud, would somebody tell me what’s going on?” asks mom.

  “I’m not going back to LB,” I confess.

  “What will you do for work?” asks dad.

  “The band is taking off,” I tell them, looking from one end of the table to the other. “Stefany, our manager, found us a label. We’ll be recording our first album starting next month.”

  “Son—we’ve been over this. Your little band is not a job. Neither is it a reliable source of income. You can’t escape the real world. You can’t shirk on your responsibilities chasing after some fanciful dream.”

  I scowl, my grip around Millie’s leg growing tighter as I try and keep my irritation under control. “My little band just got back from a six-week tour around the country. We’re selling our music, dad—people want to hear us. This record deal isn’t some small accomplishment. It’s fucking huge.”

  “Language!” mom, Pepper, and Rosy all cry at once.

  I look to Henley and Carter, neither of whom seem the least bit interested in our conversation. I’m about to continue my argument, but my mom jumps in before I can.

  “Sage, Sage—your more ignorant than I thought if you think that some small town rock band will sustain you. The odds are against you; don’t you know that? Your classical training, on the other hand—”

  “You want to talk about me using my classical training as a means to a profession? You’re joking, right? As if my chances would be any higher at reaching success.”

  “With the proper education and training, it would be!”

  “God!” I groan, looking up at the ceiling. “Would you just stop? Would you just stop? Please—I’m begging you. I’m not going back to school. I’m sure as hell not going back to school to be trained as a pianist. I know how to play—I use my skill often. I compose music all the time.”

  “Fame and fortune are a pipe dream, son,” says dad, earning my attention. “Using your gift as a pianist could take you much farther. You could teach and play, providing you with some sort of stability.”

  “I’m twenty-one years old!” I spit out, slamming my palm against the table. “I’m not settling down and starting a family. Stability is not on my radar. Stability will come when I’ve earned it. How is it even possible that I learned that from you, and yet you don’t understand it when I tell you I’m building
something that I actually believe in?”

  “How is it possible that you guys can have the same argument over and over for three years?” Rosy mumbles under her breath.

  “Good question,” I grumble.

  “When you stop acting so irresponsibly, we’ll stop having this argument,” says dad.

  “Your father is right. It’s not our fault that your actions require us to broach this topic over and over. Quitting your job? That doesn’t even make any sense! We understand your passion lies with music—we’ve never discouraged you from perusing that avenue, but—”

  “You’re discouraging it right now!” I erupt, throwing my hands up in frustration. “Just because I’m not doing it the way you want me to. I mean, for fuck’s sake—”

  “Sage!” Pepper hisses.

  “I’m sorry,” I mutter, tossing my napkin on the table. “Don’t worry, I’m done. I’m not talking about this anymore. Excuse me.” I get up from the table and make my way back into the front room. I need a minute to calm down.

  I shouldn’t get so worked up. Like Rosy said, it’s nothing new. We’ve been having the same fucking argument over and over. It’s frustrating as all hell. I don’t know why I even bother telling them anything at all. If we just avoided it altogether, maybe we could get through a visit without the drama. Then again, I know that could never really happen. Mountains & Men is my life. To keep them out of the loop, no matter how much they hate it, would mean kicking them out of my life. I can’t do that. I know it. They know it—we’re just both too stubborn to come to some sort of consensus.

  But I won’t back down. I’m going to prove them wrong.

  “Hey.”

  Millie’s soft voice pulls me from my thoughts. I don’t realize that I’m pacing until I stop. She approaches me slowly, her hands sliding around my waist hesitantly as she looks up at me.