He clasped his hands and stared at his thumbs as he considered how much he should tell her.
She sat beside him and nudged his knee with hers.
“No one knows who my father was. My mom was a junkie. She left me when I was four. She’s probably dead.”
“She left you?”
“Yeah, left me. I was put into foster care.”
“So you’re adopted?”
He shook his head. “No one wanted to adopt me. I got into a lot of trouble. They moved me around a lot—one home after another.
And if they didn’t move me, I ran away.”
Rebekah slid a hand along his lower back. “That explains this house.”
“I guess.”
“But not the music.”
He glanced around at the various instruments he cherished. “I had an inspiring music teacher in elementary school. Music came naturally to me. I think I’m hardwired for it. She saw that talent and encouraged me. I’d have done anything for her praise. She doted on me when I played music, so I became obsessed with it. I was only in her class for a few months, but after that, I sought music. Each time I started a new music class at a new school, I lied about what instrument I knew how to play and picked a new one until I could play everything I got my hands on. Most schools loan instruments to poor kids. Did you know that?”
“They used to. I think a lot of schools are cutting their music programs for lack of funds.”
Eric made a mental note to check on the programs at local schools and offer a huge donation of musical instruments if they needed them. “I don’t think I’d be alive today if it weren’t for those programs.”
“So music was the only constant in your life?”
He contemplated her question. “Yeah, I guess so. Even now, with Sinners.”
She reached up to touch his face. He expected pity when he looked into her eyes, but saw only tenderness. “I want to be a constant in your life, Eric.”
“Are you sure?” He grinned. “I’m kind of a pain in the ass.”
“I don’t think so. Everything you’ve ever done to my ass has felt really good.”
He laughed. Rebekah accepted him. His past. Relief hit him suddenly, and he laughed some more. Eric fell off the piano bench, gripping his stomach with both arms, and tried to catch his breath between laughs. Eventually, he rolled onto his back and looked at the tray ceiling. “This house is pretty ridiculous, isn’t it?”
Rebekah climbed off the bench, snuggled against his side, and laid her head on his heaving chest. “No. It fills a hole inside you. And the car does too. Are you sure you want to finish fixing it?”
“Of course. I can’t wait to see you covered with grease.”
“It won’t make you sad to see it complete?”
“Maybe a little, but that’s where the Camaro comes in.”
“And after that?”
“You pick our next project.”
“I want you to meet my parents,” she said unexpectedly.
Eric’s heart skipped several beats. “That’s a bad idea, Reb.
Parents don’t like me. Not even my own.”
“You’re important to me, Eric. I want to show you off.”
“Trying to get back at your father for repressing you as a teen?”
he teased.
“Well, my dad is a minister, but he’s never been repressive. My mother, on the other hand…” She laughed. “That’s not why though.
I love you, and I want them to love you too.”
Was she seriously offering the one thing he thought he’d never have? A family?
“Okay,” he said.
“Yeah?”
He nodded.
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Nothing that I know of.” Thanksgiving was a week away. It would give him time to get used to the idea of meeting her parents. Between now and then, Reb could teach him which fork he was supposed to use for salad.
“We always get together and help serve at the local homeless shelter before our family dinner. Will you come?”
He smiled. He actually enjoyed doing community service. He’d gotten into enough trouble as a youth that it had been required of him several times. Even though he kept out of trouble most of the time in his old age, he still liked to help.
“Sounds fun.”
“We’ll stop by the shelter and sign up tomorrow.”
“I should sign up the guys too. I’m sure they aren’t doing anything important for Thanksgiving.” And they could protect him from Rebekah’s parents, if necessary.
“Perfect. I’ll call my mom right now and let her know we’ll be over for dinner.”
She took her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed her parent’s house.
“Dave!” she said when someone picked up on the other end.
“How are you?”
Eric could hear a bit of Dave’s voice, but not his words. “I can’t wait to see you,” she said. “Can you let Mom know I’ll be over for dinner Saturday evening?”
Eric stiffened. Saturday? Saturday wasn’t Thanksgiving.
“Yeah, and tell her I’m bringing someone special.” She paused.
“Yeah, it’s a guy. No, I’m not telling you who. You’ll have to wait and see.”
She shifted her body to hold Eric down when he tried to get up.
“I’ve got to go. Don’t forget to tell Mom.” She paused. “I love you too.”
“Saturday?” Eric said. “I thought I was going to meet them on Thanksgiving.”
“You’ll see them again on Thanksgiving. You’ll probably see a lot of them. They’re my family, and you’re my guy.”
Oh no, she was using that smile he couldn’t resist. Stick to your guns, Eric. You can do it. Tell her you’re busy Saturday. “I’ve got stuff… to do… on Saturday.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Work on the car!” he said as he fabricated his excuse.
“We’ll work on the car tonight and tomorrow. Eric, this is important. Please say you’ll come with me.”
He sighed heavily. “Okay. I’ll go. But I’m warning you again.
Parents do not like me.”
“Doesn’t matter. I like you.”
She smiled and slid up his body to kiss him. Soon her tender kiss turned deep and passionate. “Did you bring any costumes in the house?”
“Just the rock star one.”
Her breath caught, and he could practically see her inventing a naughty scenario. Dear lord, he loved this woman. He’d never let anything take her away from him.
“Will you play your drums for me?” she asked.
“Why?” He chuckled. “You hear me play them practically every night.”
“Yeah, from the middle of a stadium as part of my job. I want to show you what I want to do to you when you’re onstage playing before a crowd of thousands.”
“You want to do stuff to me when I’m onstage?” He shifted his head to look at her.
“You’re not the only one with fantasies, you know.”
“Tell me.”
“How about you start playing and I’ll show you.”
As if he could say no to that. He climbed to his feet and sat behind his ancient drum kit. The one he’d found in a junkyard in the eighth grade and hid in an abandoned warehouse because his foster family at the time had insisted rock ’n’ roll was the devil’s music. He hadn’t lasted long in that house, but he’d held onto the drums for over fourteen years.
“Did you say your dad was a minister?” Eric reached for his drumsticks.
“You did not just ask me about my dad when I’m thinking about jumping your bones, did you?”
He glanced over his shoulder sheepishly to find her scowling. “Sorry.”
“Yes, he’s a minister.”
Eric cringed.
Rebekah lifted an eyebrow. “You better start looking sexy, or I’m going in the garage to start tearing an engine apart.”