When we drove to this store, it was the first time I’d glimpsed the ocean in my life. The first time I’d heard the song of the sea. It’d been mesmerizing even through the windows of Haden’s car. Hearing it now, so close, mixed with tones of sorrow coming off Haden, it sounds like the ebb and flow of throbbing, raw pain. Like from a wound that can’t be closed.

“Haden?”

“Go away. Please,” he says. “Don’t look at me.”

I ignore his request. “Did something happen to your mother?” It’s the most intrusive question I’ve ever asked him, but I have to ask it. The sound of his sorrow is too overwhelming not to. “Did she die?”

“Yes,” he says softly. “In my arms. She died in my arms. When I was seven.”

“I’m sorry.” Tears prick at the backs of my eyes. I can’t help imagining myself in his place. “I shouldn’t have played that song.…”

“You didn’t know,” he says into his arms, which cover his face. “I try not to allow myself to think about her. But that song … it sounded like … felt like … I don’t know how to describe it. It reminded me of how I felt when she died.” The tone that comes off him changes, warps from sorrow to something else. At first, I think it’s helplessness. No, I’d almost say it sounds like shame. He stands up straight now, wiping the tears from his eyes with his shirtsleeve. “You must think I’m disgusting.”

“For tearing up? No.” I reach toward his face, then stop, not sure what I was going to do. I place my hand on his shoulder instead. “It’s a perfectly human reaction.”

His face reddens slightly. “That’s the problem,” he mumbles, and places his hand over mine. His skin is hot, but it’s a welcome warmth against the breeze, which carries in the salty cool air from the ocean.

My arm tingles and I feel the hairs on my forearm stand on end as if with static electricity. Haden lets go of my hand. I look up at the darkening, cloudy sky. “I think a storm is coming. Should we go?”

“Yes. I think that would be wise.”

I head back to the store to gather my things from the booth, but as I look back at Haden before opening the door, I notice that it sounds like the storm is raging inside of him.

Haden parks behind Joe’s red Porsche in my driveway. His car is so silent, I don’t notice we’ve come to a stop until he clears his throat.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say, picking up my tote bag.

“Thank you for the education.”

“I’ll send you some more songs tomorrow. We need to settle on something for the festival.”

“We?” he asks. “So you’ll do a duet with me?”

“Yes.” I open the door. He looks at me.

“Daphne, do you have plans tonight?”

I blink. Is he asking me out? “Um. No …,” I say tentatively.

“Then if I were you, I’d take your father up on going to see that telescope.”

“I don’t think that’s—”

“I know I don’t really know your father, but it sounds to me like he’s trying to make a connection with you. Hades knows that my father has never even cared to try with me … and my mother …” He trails off heavily. His fingers tap on the steering wheel. “What I am attempting to say is that perhaps you should give your father a chance while you still can. There might come a day when the option is no longer available to you.”

Chapter thirty-nine

HADEN

When Daphne is gone, a hollowness fills me that I cannot explain.

I drive. Out of Olympus Hills. Out onto the open road. Faster and faster. Trying to outrun the storm that chases me from the inside.

I don’t know where I am going until I find myself outside the music shop again. I go inside, bells jangling as I let the door slam behind me.

“Can I help you?” the man at the cash register asks, startled.

“I want it all,” I say. “I want to buy a copy of every album you’ve got.”

The man raises his eyebrows over his thick-rimmed glasses. “Everything?”

“Yes,” I hiss. Is this human an idiot? “That’s why I said every album.”

“Um. Okay. Uh. CD or MP3? I’m assuming MP3, since you can’t fit the whole store in your trunk. You probably don’t even have a CD player in a car like that, huh?”

I shake my head.

“We’ve got more selections on digital recording anyway. It’ll fill up half a dozen of these MP3 players,” he says, pointing at a row of devices, which look similar to my iPhone, in a display case.

“Then give me six of those, too,” I say, and set the credit card Dax gave me on top of the glass case.

“Are you sure about this, man? Your parents aren’t going to freak when they see the bill or anything, are they? And I’m going to need to see some ID.”

“I don’t live with my parents.” I set the driver’s license that says I’m twenty-one next to my credit card. “Don’t forget anything. I want every single song you’ve got.”

The man glances from the ID to the card to my luxury car, which sits in the parking lot, and then back to me. “Sweet,” he says, a huge grin overtaking his face. “You are in for one wild time, my friend.”

Hours later, I sit in my car on the beach. Waves crash outside, and wind from the approaching storm pounds against the roof and windows. One of the MP3 players is wirelessly connected to the stereo. I play song after song, trying to open myself up to each one. To feel the emotion they evoke like I did with Daphne in the booth. Some of the songs make me cringe, but others conjure emotions I have spent most of my life trying to bury: sadness, anger, awe, fear, joy, desire.

Love?

Daphne didn’t mock me when I cried in front of her. She didn’t think I was disgusting. She didn’t tell me to stop before I embarrassed her. She seemed like she genuinely cared.

She cared about me.

The hour nears midnight, but I’ve barely burned through a fraction of the music I bought. The car’s control panel warns me that I’ve let the battery get too low. Just as the music starts to fade, I jolt the car with a burst of electricity, restoring it to full power. I turn up the volume. Louder. Louder. But no matter how high I turn up the sound, no matter how many emotions I let flood through me, I cannot drown out the thought that has clung to me since Daphne played me that last song in the booth.