Connected: Part 4 of the On The Edge Series

Billy was up early the following day. I felt a gentle kiss on my forehead and a murmur of 'the barn' before hearing the bedroom door click behind him. Rolling over, I found the gray sky of early morning pressing on the windows. My mind drifted to the vivid memories of Billy's fingers gliding over the keys of a piano. It was soothing and lulled me back to sleep. When I awoke again, it was to the brilliant crack of the morning sun slicing across my face. I stretched heavily and dragged myself to the shower.

"Morning," Jackson murmured from above his bowl of cereal.

"Morning," I echoed back.

"Dad in the studio?" He asked.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

Jackson let out a silent shrug and returned to his cereal. I inspected him as I sipped my juice. His neck bowed in the same way as Billy, and his hair hid his eyes.

"Something on your mind?" Fell out of my mouth before I could weigh the cost of prying.

Jackson's eyes flickered up to me before returning to his cereal with another silent shrug.

"Well, if you want to talk, I'm around," I offered.

"Mmhmm," rolled from Jackson as he chewed. "You can go see Dad. If the light is on at the top of the stairs it means he's recording, but you can just flip the right switch, and it will turn a light on for him to know you're out there."

"Oh, that's a smart idea," I smiled.

Jackson just let out a final shrug that irked me, but I opted not to press.

The light was on when I got to the top of the stairs, just as Jackson had predicted. I reluctantly flipped the right switch, hoping I had recalled the directions right. My anxiety only lasted a minute before Billy opened the door.

"Morning." His smile came as a wince.

"Morning, I brought coffee," I offered.

"Thanks." He smiled as he took the mug, but as I entered, I immediately noticed the half-empty pot of coffee sitting on a maker in the corner.

"I guess you didn't need it."

"Tastes better from you," he noted as he took a sip.

"You were up early." My words came breezily, but not because they were light. They came out on a breath that was desperately trying to dispel a tension from origins unknown.

"Yeah, I got a hook in my head. Sometimes it just..." Billy's words dropped out and were replaced by his hand raising to his temple and rubbing as though he were in pain.

"Did you get it out?" I asked as my eyes filtered to the couch and pondered if I was welcome to sit.

"Not cleanly." The admission pricked frustration through his body.

"I can go. I don't want to distract you," I halfheartedly offered.

"Proximity doesn't wane your distraction," he murmured.

"I'm sorry. Have I done something?"

Billy slumped to the piano bench facing me and allowed his body to fold into itself. His elbows met his knees as his head bowed to let his fingers comb through his hair.

"You can't gather missed years by changing who you are." His eyes stayed trained on the floor as he spoke.

"I'm not changing who I am, and I'm not trying to gather missed years." I felt the furrow between my brows.

"You want to leave your job for me." His voice was so quiet; it would've been lost if not for the blanketing silence that otherwise filled the room.

"No, I don't." My voice cut like a bullet.