Her eyes narrowed on me. “You’re very wise, Officer Lane.”
“And you’re a strong woman who can weather any storm, Miss Kelly. Don’t ever doubt that.”
The comment made a smile break out on her face, and because my knees and legs were cramping, I straightened out of the squat and picked her up, taking both of us back to her soft, comfortable bed.
As soon as she was settled, lying on her back with me on my side, my head resting on a hand, she reached up and pushed my hair out of my eyes, reminding me I needed to get it cut.
“Thank you for helping me. I’m struggling with the emotions, especially so close to the anniversary of losing Callum.”
It hit me that Dad’s wisdom about lives having a soundtrack might be helpful to her right now. It helped me keep track of my moods and emotions, so hopefully, it’d do the same for her.
“My dad always told me life has a soundtrack, it’s just that the song changes depending on what’s going on at the time. I tend to find myself listening to certain songs when stuff happens, and when I hear specific ones playing, I know I either need to dig myself out of my funk or that I’m in a good phase.”
Naomi’s lips pressed together, and her head tilted on the pillow. “What’s your main song?”
“It depends. When I’m going through a down period, it’s usually Hurt. On Callum’s anniversary, I listened to Numb or Linkin Park's collaboration with Jay-Z, Numb/Encore. They’re my off-balance songs.”
“Which version of Hurt? Aren’t there, like, fifty?”
“Never the Trent Reznor version. If I’m feeling emotional, it’s the Johnny Cash one. Otherwise, it’s the Nine Inch Nails version, which doesn’t hit me as being as deep or depressed as Johnny’s.”
“That makes sense. I always preferred Cash’s version, but the Nine Inch Nails one hits differently, so I can understand the distinction between them for you.”
If there was ever any doubt in the world that soulmates existed, all that’d be needed to prove it to me was Naomi’s response. We were discussing music and how it reflected our mental states, something that might not resonate with everyone, yet she got it perfectly and the difference between the versions of the same song.
“What do you listen to when negative emotions aren’t hitting you?”
“Pretty much everything. Songs from the 70s, 80s, and 90s, classic rock, tunes that I hear when I’m out and can’t get out of my head. It doesn’t matter so long as they keep my mental state on a high.”
She grinned up at me. “I think I do the same. Sometimes you hear something, and it’s so catchy that’s it stuck in there, and if I don’t listen to it at least three times, I feel frustrated. Then I have my go-to happy songs that are easy to listen to.”
Having seen her dancing as she cleaned or worked in the kitchen, or even in the break room at work with her earphones in, this didn’t surprise me.
“What song do you think reflects you when you’re feeling down or just blah?”
Naomi looked to the side as she thought about it. “I can’t think of one specifically. Maybe November Rain?”
“A classic. Know what song hit me when I saw you after I moved here?” I linked my fingers with hers at her head shake and rested our hands on her stomach. “Handle With Care by The Traveling Wilburys.”
“Oh,” she breathed, her eyes widening. “That’s a good one. What about now?”
“Same group, except it’s Not Alone Any More.”
The dim sunlight from outside was brighter now, so it was easy to see her chin tremble. “Don’t be nice to me, man. I can’t take it right now.”
I burst out laughing. “Man?”
“Would you prefer ‘dude,’ or ‘bro?’”
Anything I was going to say back was interrupted by a tornado slamming the door open with a banshee scream. “Carter’s here, and we had a sleepover!”
Shanti pretty much vaulted up onto the bed and started bouncing on the mattress, making my heart jump into my throat in case she lost her balance or misjudged the amount of space she had and fell off the bed.
Almost like the thought was a premonition, she landed with one foot on the mattress, the other missing it by a good six inches. I moved quickly enough to pull a muscle in my side, but it still wasn’t fast enough to catch her before her arms windmilled, and she tipped over the edge, landing on the ground with a scream.
“Oh, shi-Shinola,” Naomi yelped, jumping up to scramble down the bed at the same time that I got off it and moved round to where Shanti was lying on the ground, screaming her head off.
I felt sick. This little girl was usually all smiles, happiness, mischief and repeated the things she’d heard adults saying. I think I could count on one hand how many times I’d seen her cry, and it’d never been like she was right now.