Page 28 of Love Unwritten
I shake my head with a laugh. “I appreciate you offering to help, but no. I’m already enough of an imposition as it is.”
“An imposition? To whom? Let me have a word with them.” He searches the empty room for a missing person like a total goof.
Someone needs to protect this man at all costs because he is a national treasure.
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
He shoots me an exasperated look while holding a guitar out for me to grab. “You’re not. But if you insist on helping, then you should get a new job soon. Our water bill is going to double next month thanks to your long showers.”
I strum the chords with my middle finger, earning a deep belly laugh from him.
“Are you hiring at the music store?” I ask.
“For you, always, although I’ve got to warn you… some of the newer kids who come in for music lessons are tough. I blame those millionaire transplants who swear their children are the next Chopin and Beethoven.”
I make a face. “I hope I can handle it.”
“I know you can. You’re a Sinclair, after all.”
My chest warms. My stepdad is the most genuine, kind-hearted man I’ve ever met, and I’d be lucky to find a partner who is half the person he is. I may have never called him Dad, but he is mine in every way that counts, which is why I took on his last name.
Burt begins strumming the opening of our favorite song, and together, we play until I forget all about my life and all the problems waiting for me later, like getting my favorite guitar back.
CHAPTER TEN
Rafael
I try three separate times to start up a conversation with Nico during the ride to my aunt’s lakefront house near the northern part of town. I was hoping he would weigh in on what summer camp he wants to attend or what flavor cake he would like for his birthday party, but he completely ignores me. He even goes as far as putting on his superhero-themed headphones while I’m speaking.
Not even my aunt, who always manages to make Nico smile and laugh, is able to pull him out of his bad mood when we arrive at her house. He is so caught up in his thoughts that he almost forgets to give her a proper greeting until she reminds him.
With a reluctant groan, he kisses her cheek before turning away from both of us.
“What happened?” Josefina watches Nico retreat into the guest bedroom with his overnight bag. Her dark, professionally dyed hair and glowing tan skin make her look younger than her fifty-seven years. If it weren’t for her rare scowl emphasizing the few wrinkles surrounding her brown eyes and mouth, I would guess her to be around forty.
I brush my hand through my unruly hair. “He had an accident last night and had to go to the emergency room.”
“I wasn’t talking about his stitches.” She stares at me with a perfectly arched brow and her arms crossed tightly against her chest.
I release a deep sigh. “It’s a long story.”
“Perfect. You can share it while I cut your hair.” She drags me into the kitchen. The sight of tamales cooking on the stove makes my mouth water and my stomach grumble.
“Haircut first. Dinner after.” She pulls out a stool for me before gathering the supplies.
She lays out a few combs, a spray bottle full of water, and a pair of scissors. The silver clippers she plugs into the socket gleam from the sun shining through the window overlooking Lake Wisteria, taunting me.
Sometimes, I’m tempted to ask her to shave off my short beard, but then I’m quick to shake off the thought. Once upon a time, I shaved at least twice a week, but now, taking care of my beard feels like a massive effort. If it weren’t for Nico hating when it reaches a certain length, I doubt I’d bother with trimming it.
My aunt gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “No te preocupes. I’m only using those to clean up your edges.”
That loosens some of the tension in my shoulders. Josefina has been styling my hair since a middle school haircut went terribly wrong, so I trust her not to completely botch it. She might tease me about finding a good barber since I can afford one, but I know she secretly loves helping me, so I haven’t bothered replacing her.
No te preocupes: Don’t worry.
Like Julian and me, she loves feeling useful, even with something simple like cutting my hair.
There is nothing I want more than to make my aunt happy for the rest of her days. She deserves it after all she has done for me, including taking me in and raising me like her own son when my father passed away soon after my mother had.