Page 50 of The Deviation

Carefully sliding my key into the lock, I ease the door open and pause in the entryway.

Hannah is perched sideways on the armchair, her eyes closed as she sings. The lyrics are unfamiliar to me, but she performs them with an easy confidence.

Johnny sits on the couch, my guitar resting on one bent leg. His other foot is tapping along to the tune he’s playing so effortlessly. The two of them seem totally in sync with each other. Hannah’s voice melding perfectly with Johnny’s notes.

The sight of them here, together, doing what each of them does best, makes an absolute mess out of my already battered heart. Moisture pricks at the back of my eyes. I would give anything to come home to this—exactly this—every day.

Johnny’s head lifts, and he catches sight of me. His fingers jerk on the strings. The colour drains from his face. Hannah’s voice falters as she glances around. “Oh, shit,” she says, shooting up off the armchair.

“Language, little sister.”

She crosses her arms, scowling at me. “You’re early.”

“Nope.” I shake my head. “Right on time.”

She looks down at her watch. “Oh.”

“Guess we lost track of the time.” Johnny stands and carefully places my guitar back on its stand.

How long has he been here? But more importantly… “What were you singing?” I ask Hannah.

“I wasn’t singing,” she snaps.

I lift an eyebrow at her.

“No, I mean…” She gives a false laugh and waves a hand in Johnny’s direction. “We were just messing around.”

“I should go.” Johnny keeps his gaze averted as he heads for the door behind me.

“No,” Hannah jumps in. “You stay. I’m gonna go,” she backs down the hallway, “to my room.” She lifts a hand. “Catch you later, Johnny.” The cheery farewell has me doing a double-take. Since when does Hannah enjoy meeting someone?

My head turns in time to catch the affection in Johnny’s expression. “You too, Hannah. Thanks for your help.”

She makes a dismissive sound. “It was nothing.” Her door closes with a bang. Within seconds, loud music begins to emanate from behind it.

Johnny snorts a laugh.

Grimacing, I turn to face him. “She’s subtle.”

“She’s a sweetheart,” he says, all soft eyes and gentle smile. “And a hell of a singer.”

“Yeah. No kidding.” I put my work bag on the kitchen counter before turning back to him. “How did you manage that?”

“Manage what?”

“Getting her to sing for you.”

He looks confused. “We got to talking and it just… kind of… happened.”

As if it’s that easy. As if getting my sister to sing is no big deal. What kind of bonding moment did these two have while I was off squirming under my boss’s narrowed gaze?

“Why aren’t you managing her?” Johnny asks.

Exasperation makes me sigh. “You’ll have to ask her. Heads up, she won’t give a satisfactory answer.”

His head tilts as he considers that, before a smile quirks onto his mouth. “She knew who I was when I showed up here. She called methe one?”

His question begs an answer he won’t be getting from me. “You’re forgetting, I was on the phone with her when you came up to me the night we met. Of course, I mentioned you.”