Page 128 of Stolen Harmony

“You want to tell me what happened?” Kepler asked quietly.

I stared at my beer, watching condensation drip down the bottle onto my jeans. “Elias broke it off. Whatever we had, whatever we were building. He ended it.”

“Why?”

“Said it was complicated. Said I was vulnerable and he was taking advantage and it wasn't fair to either of us.” The words came out bitter, sharp with hurt I hadn't wanted to admit. “Said I deserved better.”

Kepler was quiet for a long moment, studying me with eyes that had seen enough of life to recognize bullshit when they heard it. “And what do you think?”

“I think he got scared and decided I wasn't worth fighting for.”

“Could be,” Kepler agreed. “Or he could be trying to protect you from something he thinks you can't handle.”

“I'm twenty-six years old. I think I can decide what I can handle.”

“Age doesn't always equal wisdom, son. Sometimes it takes decades to learn that protecting someone from pain just causes different pain.” Kepler leaned back in his chair. “My boy's got a tendency to think he knows what's best for everyone. Comes from losing people, I think. Makes you want to control things that can't be controlled.”

The understanding in his voice made something crack in my chest. “You were good to him, you know. To Elias. Even when things got complicated.”

“Well, someone had to keep that boy from turning into a complete hermit,” Kepler said with a dry chuckle. “Raising two sons mostly on my own taught me that each kid needs something different. Victor needed structure and rules to keep him from thinking he owned the world. Elias needed someone to tell him he was allowed to take up space in it.”

“Sounds like you had your hands full.”

“That's putting it mildly. Victor was always scheming about something—student council president at twelve, planning his political career by fifteen. Meanwhile, Elias was in the corner with his guitar, convinced he was bothering everyone just by breathing.” Kepler's expression grew fond. “Used to have to drag him out of his room for meals. Kid would've lived on music and air if I'd let him.”

“I don't know what I'm doing,” I admitted. “With Elias, with being back here, with any of it.”

“Nobody does. That's the secret they don't tell you about being an adult. We're all just making it up as we go along, hoping we don't screw up too badly.” Kepler took another sip of beer. “But running away isn't the answer. Trust me on that one.”

“How do you know I'm running away?”

“Because you've got that look. Same one Elias gets when things get too real for his liking.” Kepler's smile was knowing but not unkind. “The Grant men have a tendency to retreat when they should advance. Comes from believing we don't deserve the good things that happen to us.”

Before I could respond, Tom reappeared with three fresh beers and a plate of what looked like crackers and smoked fish. “Found the good stuff,” he announced, settling back into his chair. “Kepler's been holding out on the rest of the town.”

“It's my secret weapon,” Kepler said, accepting a fresh beer. “I use it to bribe people into visiting me.”

“Working like a charm,” I said, taking one of the crackers. The fish was smoky and rich, probably something Kepler had prepared himself from his own catch.

“So,” Tom said, settling back in his chair with the satisfied air of someone who'd given father and quasi-stepson time to hash out whatever needed hashing, “what's the plan now? You sticking around, or are we losing another one to the bright lights of the big city?”

“Haven't decided yet,” I said, which was more honest than I'd intended to be.

“Well, for what it's worth, the town's better with you in it,” Tom said. “Even if you don't stick around long-term, it's good to have some new energy. Especially energy that can make music.”

“You heard me play?”

“Word travels fast in a town this small. Plus, Anna's been bragging about that night at her place for weeks. Says it was the best show she's had in years.”

The memory of that night made my chest tight. The music, the crowd, the way Elias had looked at me afterward like I was something worth wanting. Before everything got complicated, before fear took over.

“That feels like a lifetime ago,” I said.

“Time moves different when you're hurting,” Kepler observed. “But it keeps moving whether you're paying attention or not. Question is whether you're going to let it carry you forward or drag you under.”

As the evening progressed and the beer loosened our tongues, the conversation grew more animated. Tom regaled us with the story of the time Mayor Caldwell had tried to ban live music from the bars, only to find half the town council jamming at an impromptu protest concert in the town square. Laughter echoed around the table, louder and freer with each round.

By the time the stars were visible through the salt air, I realized something had shifted. The tight knot in my chest had loosened, not gone but manageable. The frantic energy that had driven me to start packing had settled into something calmer, more thoughtful.