Lonely Lullaby: Ballad of a Broken Soul Series | Book 1

by Vannah Summers

  I managed to make it into our bedroom and over to our bed without bruising anything serious, only a throbbing big toe from where I accidentally kicked the corner of the overly stocked bookshelf by the front door, and collapsed in exhaustion on the bed covers. I didn’t even bother unlacing my worn tennis shoes before I kicked them off onto the shaggy carpet. Whitney followed after me and tucked herself into my side with her small head on my shoulder. A sleepy yawn escaped her lips.

  Smiling, I pressed a kiss to her hair. With all the fight her body went through, she tended to get tired easier than most children her age. We had a routine of taking a daily nap. I was pretty positive we both needed it.

  The alarm on my phone was set for a couple hours, and I trusted it to go off on time.

  But even as I drifted off to sleep, eyes like earth and rain and hair as dark as the River Styx invaded my thoughts, making my heart stutter. I hadn’t expected my heart to continue to race this long after we had left the strangers.

  I saw plenty of attractive men, but none had caught my attention like Oliver and the lumberjack. It wasn’t even because they were beautiful that I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about them.

  No, it was the familiar loneliness in their eyes, which reminded me so much of someone.

  It reminded me of myself.

  CHAPTER 2

  The blare of my alarm sounded, jolting me from my much-needed nap. I blinked heavy eyes and wished I could press the snooze button instead of getting up but quickly disarmed it. I always set multiple alarms in case I unconsciously turned off my first, so I disarmed those ones as well. I’d slept in too many times to count because I managed to turn my alarms off in my sleep. It was a talent, really.

  For several minutes I made no move to get up from my cozy position, but the time displayed on the clock reminded me I needed to get my butt moving or else I’d be late for my next job.

  Whitney stirred beside me before she peeked opened her sleepy eyelids. Bopping her nose, I sat up and forced myself to get off the soft bed, carefully untangling myself from Whitney, and blindly found my way into the bathroom to hop in the shower.

  “It’s too late for civilization to be up,” I grumbled to myself as my hand fumbled for the bathroom light switch. I had tried to save money before on electricity by keeping the light off while I bathed, but the second time I tripped over the shower curtain, I’d decided visibility was more important than being frugal with my bank account.

  With only a couple hours of sleep, I still felt groggy. No one in their right mind should work as much as I’d been working. Then again, I had the best sort of motivation.

  Whitney.

  She giggled from behind me as she followed me into the bathroom. She made herself comfortable on the counter, letting her legs dangle and swing above the ground. The fluorescent lights showcased the tips of her angry scars emerging from the neckline of her blouse.

  Looking at them only reminded me of her doctor’s appointment in the morning, so I switched the bath water on and adjusted the temperature to just right before getting in. The shower curtain divided us, but I kept up a conversation with her about her day with Samantha. They’d gone to the park, fed the ducks, and shared an ice cream sandwich from a shop downtown. Samantha had even taught her some simple math fractions.

  After I was washed and cleaned, I wrapped a towel around myself and stood in front of the mirror to apply some fresh makeup. My heart still skittered restlessly, and the frenzied concern echoed in my blue eyes. I hummed lightly to distract myself from the rising anxiety and grabbed a brush to comb through the tangles in my hair.

  Whitney watched me brush through the strands with a pensive look on her face. “What time are we going to see the doctor tomorrow?”

  I paused, giving her a quick look. “It’s at nine. We need to leave here at eight thirty.” She nodded and glanced away, but her legs stopped swinging. I set the brush down on the counter beside her and cupped her cheek. “What’s up, Whitney?”

  She sighed, the sound a soft huff. “I’m just nervous, I guess.”

  My thumb brushed over her warm cheek. “Is there something I can do to make you feel better?”

  She nodded. “Sing for me?”

  I chuckled, and the corners of my lips tilted up into a smile. “Sure, what would you like to hear?”

  She gave me a cheesy grin, and I was happy to see it replace her worried frown. “Yours?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Again?”

  She shrugged, and her legs swung once again. “It’s my favorite.”

  Pursing my lips, I debated. I didn't know why she loved my song so much. She requested it often, but it wasn’t a happy song. It was one full of heartache and neglect. Maybe that was why she liked it, though. She could relate.

  But if it would make her feel better, I’d do it for her. I’d sing it over and over until my voice was hoarse and raw.

  “I hid my heart so long ago...” I sang softly, my voice coming out as a breathy sigh. I thought back to all the times I’d been neglected by my parents, and my heart pulsed sadly in my chest. They weren’t bad people, but addiction’s strong. The drugs were better than their realities.

  I took my long hair in my hands and plaited the damp strands into a simple braid. Soft wisps of blond hair curled loosely around my chin. “Confused and cracked, it beat too slow...”

  Finishing with my hair, I pulled Whitney down from the countertop.

  “I ached for help to find a key... A key to end my misery...”

  Loneliness weighed heavy on my heart as I spun us in lazy circles, swaying softly with a make-believe dance to the music playing in my head. I thought back to the many times I had found my mother staring at the TV with a glazed look in her eyes. I had been so young, too young, to deal with that.

  Shutting my eyes, I remembered singing to her in the hope she would wake up, but it never worked. The drugs’ effects were too strong, and it usually took hours for them to wear off.

  “I sang to you a lullaby... But in return you made me cry... Lonely and bruised, my heart pushed on...” I sang sadly, my voice a raw whisper. My breathing turned uneven as past memories fluttered unwelcome through my mind. My eyes filled with unshed tears, and my throat constricted tightly.

  I stopped spinning and enveloped Whitney in my arms. Hugging her close, I sang the next line. “To find your love already gone...”

  Whitney gazed up into my face at the sound of my voice cracking. A lone tear trailed down my cheek, coming to rest at my jaw, and she wiped it away before I could, her warm fingers skimming lovingly over my cheek. I wouldn’t be able to sing any more of my song right now, and I knew she would understand. My nerves were too chaotic, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to deal with much more emotion.

  Releasing her, I took a deep, much-needed breath. She followed me back into the bedroom, a thoughtful look in her brown eyes.

  “What are you thinking about?” I knelt in front of our tiny dresser and rummaged through the limited clothes for something to wear.

  “Are you lonely?”

  I paused with my fingers holding a plain black T-shirt. “Why would you think that, Whitney?”

  She took a seat on the bed, sending me a look I didn’t understand. “I don’t know. You just never bring any friends over or go out and do stuff.” She shrugged. “And your song makes me think you’re lonely. I just don’t want you to miss out on things because of me.”

  I stood. Maybe she was right. Most people my age had friends they spent time with. But then again, most people my age probably weren’t taking care of a sister with health problems.

  There was one thing I needed to make clear, though.

  Padding over to her, I brushed some errant strands of hair off her forehead. “Hey, you don’t stop me from doing things. I love spending time with you. And no, I’m not lonely. Want to know why?” I didn’t give her time to respond. “Because I have you.”

  “You know I don’t mind, right?” she asked. “You having frie
nds.”

  Was this really bothering her that much?

  “Tell you what.” I scratched the back of my neck. “I’ll work on it. Making friends.”

  She smiled. “What about boyfriends?”

  Sticking out my tongue, I said, “Maybe.”

  “I think it would be good for you.” She picked at a stray thread on the comforter. “Having more friends.”

  I rolled my eyes and ruffled the hair I’d just smoothed out of her face. “Psh, okay, Mom.”

  She giggled but seemed placated since I said I’d try.

  After dressing in a black shirt and dark skinny jeans, I was ready to go to work. At least physically.

  Snatching my jacket, phone, and headphones off my bed, Whitney and I made our way down the stairs to the café. It wasn’t very busy now that it had gotten so late, and I was glad to see that the customer from earlier and his friend were gone.

  Sam smiled at us from the kitchen and pointed at a small to-go bag on the counter. After a quick kiss to Whitney’s cheek and a wave to Sam, I snatched the bag of food and headed out into the downpour outside.

  The rain pelted my face as I ran for the bus stop, my shoes splashing noisily through the puddles littering the uneven pavement. I did my best to preserve my makeup, but I was sure most of it had been cleansed from my face by the wet attack.

  If only I had remembered an umbrella.

  I spotted the bus stop up ahead and sighed in relief. The bus stop didn’t provide a covered area for times like these, which sucked, and I wanted to get out of the rain before my food became soggy.

  Wrapping my arms tightly around my waist, food bag clutched in my hand, I stood to the side of a thin maple tree since it was the only thing close by that could give any cover from the rain. More tendrils of hair escaped my braid and now stuck to my damp face like unruly vines. My clothes were drenched and stuck haphazardly to my small frame, making me feel even more weighed down. I leaned heavily against the tree and closed my eyes, wishing for today to be done with. All I wanted was to sleep. Sleep and pretend like I had no worries.

  My mind wandered back to earlier tonight, and I mentally groaned. I couldn’t believe I’d done that to a customer, even if it was just an accident. Anyone could have made that mistake, but my embarrassed brain couldn’t stop fretting.

  And the lumberjack had seemed so... angry? No, angry wasn’t the word. He just had a grumpy face.

  I shivered, both from the cold and from remembering the stranger’s deep-set scowl.

  The rain stopped pouring over my head, and I blinked my eyes open in confusion.

  A guy around my age stood on the sidewalk in front of me, a black umbrella in his outstretched hand. He held it protectively over my head and smiled at me with blue-green eyes. Water dripped off the edges of his umbrella and onto his silver-colored hair as he made sure I was completely covered from the onslaught of rain.

  My heart thumped unevenly in my chest as I took him in. He was fairly lean in size, but it seemed to work for him. Muscles corded along his arms from under his gray jacket, becoming more defined the longer the rain soaked his clothes. Silver piercings lined his left ear, and vibrant tattoos peeked from under his sleeves.

  I didn’t have a chance to thank him for the kind gesture before the bus arrived at the curb to pick us up. I smiled gratefully at the stranger and boarded the bus, feeling him follow swiftly behind.

  Scattered seats here and there were mostly left, though a few unoccupied rows were near the back. Quickly, I seized a row with an empty window seat before someone else did. I needed to sit down and take the weight off my sore feet. Even after giving them a small break, they still ached.

  The bus smelled slightly of mildew and body odor, and I wrinkled my nose in distaste. I tried not to think of how many people had ridden in my seat and how a large number of them probably didn’t have the best hygiene practices.

  A shift in my peripheral vision showed the stranger from earlier sitting down on the empty seat next to me, his body turned in my direction.

  “Is it all right if I sit here?” he asked in a deep voice.

  Wondering if he’d snitch on me for eating on the bus, I peeked at him from over my shoulder as I opened my bag of food and nodded once. He smiled again and sat his wet umbrella on his lap.

  The bus jolted forward as it made its way through the city, and I glanced out the window as I nibbled on some french fries and ketchup. I watched the veins of water intertwining down the glass, making intricate patterns from the wind. If the rain didn’t make me feel so gloomy, I’d have thought it was pretty.

  I lifted my hand and let it hover over the cool glass, tracing my reflection without touching. I looked sallow and tired. My eyes, once a brilliant blue, now appeared like sullied pond water, the change brought on by the stack of bills hidden in my underwear drawer.

  A throat cleared, bringing me out of my muddled thoughts. I regarded the stranger and found him watching me curiously, almost expectantly.

  Why was he looking at me like that?

  I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion. “Yes?”

  Something passed over his eyes, almost like surprise, but it disappeared too quickly for me to be sure.

  The guy chuckled and offered me his hand. “I’m Parker.”

  Hesitantly, since one never knew where a stranger’s hand had been, I accepted it. My hand was swallowed up in his large, pleasantly warm one, and even though the heat was inviting, an odd emotion teased my skin at his touch. I yanked my hand away quickly, unnerved by all the new sensations I’d felt tonight. Whether it was stress or the lack of sleep, it was still disconcerting.

  Parker gazed at his hand before lifting his stare to mine, seeming a little puzzled by my behavior.

  I attempted to appear nonchalant by casting him a lazy smile and realized he was still waiting for me to tell him my name. “I’m Tessa.”

  “Tessa.” He tested it out on his tongue. “I like it. It’s cute.” He tossed another smile my way.

  For a moment, I just stared at him, his genuine smile out of place on this grungy bus. Where in the world did this guy come from? Was he flirting with me? It seemed like he was.

  “Thanks.” I felt a little awkward. Sure, he hadn’t said anything creepy, but if he thought a dirty bus was the place to pick up chicks, then he was mistaken.

  Turning away from him, I gave my attention back to the rainy window.

  “So, what do you do, Tessa?” he asked.

  I sighed before giving him a terse look over my shoulder. Did he not get the hint I wasn’t interested?

  Whitney’s words about making friends came to mind, and I groaned internally.

  Ugh, fine. I can be friendly.

  “Me?” I asked, my voice serious. Dipping a fry in ketchup, I twisted back around in my seat to stare him dead in the eyes. “I’m an embalmer.”

  The flash of horror that passed over his face as I ate the fry doubled me over in my seat, clutching my ribs as I laughed. Others on the bus glanced my way, casting me funny looks, but I ignored them.

  “I’m just messing with you, dude.” I folded closed the opening of the bag.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed this hard. Probably not since before Whitney’s last heart surgery.

  My laughter subsided on that thought as I pushed away unwanted memories. Parker ran a hand through his hair and whistled low.

  “Damn.” He leaned back into his chair, oblivious to the green stain on the fabric of his seat. “I actually believed you for a moment.”

  I smiled, more relaxed than earlier. Talking to Parker wasn’t all that bad. “I actually work at a café during the day. I’m off to my second job.”

  He nodded in understanding. “That kind of day, huh?”

  “More like that kind of year.” A long sigh passed through my pursed lips. I scanned the buildings and road signs outside the window to see where we were. The rain was still going strong outside, and I slumped in disappointment as I squinted,
trying to read the nearest sign. We were nearing my stop in a few minutes, and the thought of walking out in the cold had me pouting. I’d just have to deal with it, though.

  “So, Tessa,” Parker began again. “Are you from here?”

  I nodded, refusing to give him too much information since he was a stranger. For all I knew, he was a great guy, but a single bus ride didn’t make us close buddies. “What about you?”

  “No.” He shook his head, peeking around me to look at the passing buildings and apartments with interest. “I’m just here for work.”

  “Yeah? What do you do?”

  Parker hesitated. “I’m a musician.”

  My brows rose. “That’s cool. What do you play?”

  He didn’t seem comfortable with the conversation focused on him, and he shifted in his seat. “A few instruments, actually. Though I mostly play the piano or keyboard.” Clearing his throat, he pointed outside at the mountains in the distance. “I can’t believe you get to see those every day.”

  I followed his gaze. “Yeah, they really are something, aren’t they?”

  The bus slowed, its brakes squeaking obnoxiously as we approached my stop, bringing an end to our short conversation. It was somewhat of a shame because it would’ve been nice to chat with Parker a bit more. Whitney would be proud of me for making a bus buddy.

  “Well, this is my stop.” I grabbed the handle hanging from the ceiling of the bus to help me stand.

  The fabric of the seat now held a large wet spot from my clothes, and I grimaced. I hoped everyone would know the wet spot wasn’t from someone peeing their pants.

  I smiled and gave Parker an awkward wave with the sack of food in my hand. “It was nice meeting you, Parker.”

  “You too, Tessa.” I started past him, but his hand wrapped gently around my wrist, giving me pause. He held out his umbrella to me. “Here, take this.”

  My muscles relaxed in his grip, and I glanced quickly at the others exiting the bus. “Oh, I couldn’t—”