My heart squeezed, and I willed Reese to look at me, to let him see himself through my eyes.
But I understood what he meant.
“That’s kind of how I feel about piano,” I said softly.
Reese finally turned his attention back to me. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” I tried, eyes finding the ceiling as I searched for the right words. “Like I told you, I’ve never been in love with another human, but I’ve loved the piano ever since I first touched it, since it first touched me.” I smiled, shaking my head as the feeling filled me from the heart out. “I mean, I have given everything to piano. I’ve sacrificed dating, friendships, nights out on the town in college.” I swallowed then, finding Reese’s gaze. “Time with family. And maybe even a little time I should have given to myself.”
Reese nodded in understanding, his lips pressed together.
“But, I wanted to. I wanted to give myself to the piano, and I still do… I just realized when I left Bramlock that sometimes, no matter how much you love someone or something, and no matter how much you’re willing to give up for it…” A shiver raced down my spine. “Sometimes, like you said, you’re just not enough.”
Reese’s thumb stilled where it had been drumming away on his mug, and he dropped it altogether, crossing his arms over his chest as he shifted his body toward me. “Why did you leave Bramlock?”
A short, bitter laugh hit my throat. “You want the truth or the well-curated lie?”
“The truth.”
I shook my head, gaze falling to the tea growing cold in my mug. My pulse quickened as the words formed in my mind, the ones I could bring to life with my voice, if only I were brave enough. All I had to do was speak.
I was raped by my professor.
I wondered if I’d feel relief if I told him, if even one person knew what had happened to me — other than Dr. Chores, the one who’d said it was better to keep it between us.
I swallowed, throat burning as the truth slid down.
It didn’t matter if I told him, Reese Walker couldn’t save me. He couldn’t take away what had happened, and he couldn’t make any of this any easier for me.
“I can’t…” I finally said, voice just above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”
I was still staring at my tea like it held all the answers when Reese reached over, his hand slowly crossing the space of counter between us until it reached my wrist. His fingertips stretched out first, barely touching me, and when I didn’t jump or pull away, they wrapped around the dainty bone before sliding down. I released the cup with my heart pounding in my throat, my ears, anywhere but my chest where it should have been. All I could see was the contrast of his skin against mine. All I could feel was the warmth of his blood, pumping through his palm as it melted with mine, his fingers wrapping themselves around my own.
And with my hand in his, with our hearts racing together, trying to find the same rhythm, Reese said exactly what I needed to hear.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
My eyes watered, and I knew it must have confused him, must have made him wonder if he’d said the wrong thing. How could he know that I blamed myself, that I looked back on that night and wondered if I’d done it to myself, if I was the reason I was raped. Maybe if I wouldn’t have dressed the way I did, if I hadn’t put on makeup and done my hair before every class. Maybe if I wouldn’t have pushed so hard, if I wouldn’t have become the injured deer at the mercy of a hungry wolf. Maybe if I would have spoken up when he requested to administer my final so late at night, if I’d told him it made me uncomfortable. Maybe if I hadn’t trusted him so blindly, so naïvely. Maybe if I would have said no more forcefully, if I would have screamed louder, if I would have told someone else.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
“You do not ever have to tell me your truth, your reason why you left,” Reese said, thumb smoothing over my wrist. “But I am going to ask you to tell someone.”
I looked at him then, eyes wide in horror. Does he know? Is he going to make me go to the police?
Reese simply pointed to the piano in the den, the one he’d been teaching me at, the one I’d been slowly opening myself up to.
“You don’t have to tell me, or your family, or your friends,” he continued, still pointing as his eyes leveled with mine. “But you do need to tell that piano. You need to let it feel your pain, your loss, and let it take all of that and transform it into music.” He dropped the hand that had pointed to the piano, but the other still held mine. “That is your duty as a pianist. That is your cross to bear as a musician. And that is what will get you to Carnegie.”
My eyes flicked to where the piano was in the other room, though I couldn’t see it from where I sat. Then, I pulled my gaze back to Reese with an understanding nod.
The point made, our attention seemed to fall back to where we touched, both of our eyes casting downward at the contact before Reese cleared his throat and pulled away.
My hand was still warm where he’d held it, and instinctively, I pulled that hand into my lap, covering it with the other like I could save it from being tainted.
“Well, we kind of blew our lesson today,” he said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.
“It was worth it, though, right?” I pointed out, glancing over at Rojo.
Reese sighed, looking at his new family member with a prideful smile. “Very much so.”
Rojo hauled herself up once Reese and I started moving about, me packing up my messenger bag as Reese went over my homework for the weekend. I wouldn’t sit at his piano again until Sunday, and since we’d missed today, he wanted to make sure we didn’t fall behind. I took notes of his instructions as we made a plan — occasionally bending to pet Rojo where she rubbed against my leg — and then before I was ready to be, I was standing on his front porch, the soft sound of crickets chirping the only sound between me and Reese.
“Don’t forget to take her out before you go to bed,” I said. “And feed her in the morning. Once in the morning, and once at night, if you do a whole cup of food. That’s what the vet we spoke to recommended.”
He smirked. “I was there, too, you know.”
“I know,” I said, elongating the word. “But you did also make it very clear to me that you were about as helpless as a fish without gills when it came to taking care of another living thing.”
He raised his eyebrows at that in a conceding shrug. “Very true. Hopefully Rojo will still be alive when you come back Sunday.”
I blanched.
“I’m kidding, Sarah,” he said on a laugh, and again, my stomach filled with warmth at my first name rolling off his lips. That warmth spread like propane, igniting into a blue flame when Reese reached forward, hand wrapping around my wrist and tugging me forward until I was in his arms.
He wrapped me up in them like a blanket, my face nuzzling his chest as he rested his chin on my head. For a fleeting second, I felt self-conscious about the fact that he’d find no hair there, no feminine reminder of who he held in his arms. But it was gone as soon as it had come, especially when he sighed, the sound reverberating through my body as he wrapped me in closer.
“Thank you,” he said on a breath. “For today. For Rojo.”
I squeezed his middle where my arms had wrapped around him, inhaling the fresh scent of soap that mixed with tobacco on his shirt. It’d been so long since I’d been hugged like that by anyone other than my mom. I’d shied away from all human touch, so much so that I forgot how warm it could feel, how comforting, how safe.
“Thanks for trusting me.”
He stiffened in my arms a little at that, as if he’d only just realized that he’d done what I’d accused. And with that tension came a stilling of the night around us, a quieting of the insects, a dimming of the porch light that shone down from above us. Reese pulled back a little, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. He still held me, his hands on my arms, mine pressed against his chest.
“And for the
record,” he said. “You are enough.”
I glanced up, catching his eyes for the briefest moment before he leaned in, his scent invading my senses again. And as if I wasn’t dizzy enough, the distance between us closed, and Reese pressed his lips tenderly to my forehead.
I closed my eyes, holding my last breath as heat spread from where his lips touched me. It expanded slowly, like a trickle of water, pooling together at my shoulders before spilling down like a waterfall, touching my navel, my thighs, my ankles and toes. I was swimming in the warm waters of that kiss long after he pulled away, and when I opened my eyes and looked up at him, I wondered if he was drowning with me.
He held me there a little too long, a little too close, but neither of us made to move. His eyes searched mine, and mine drank him in, and we said nothing at all at the same time we said everything we knew we couldn’t.
It was all in that look.
It was all in that embrace.
And it was all lost as soon as Reese released me, stepping back more than necessary, his hands shoved forcefully into his pockets as he offered a tight smile.
“See you Sunday, Miss Henderson.”
Miss Henderson.
The air around us snapped back to life, a car whizzing by on the road in front of his house as if to remind us what universe we were in, what rules existed here. Its headlights temporarily blinded me, and I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the night again with his goodbye ringing in my ears.
I swallowed, understanding the meaning that lay beneath the name he’d addressed me with. His eyes nailed that intention home, the wide circle of his pupils telling me to take a step back, to make the line clear again, to fall back into my role so he could stand firmly in his own.
Teacher, and student.
I nodded, both to his spoken confirmation of our next lesson and his unspoken request of remembering where we each stood. My feet carried me numbly off his porch and into my car, and the engine purred to life like it was happening in another dimension as I strapped my seatbelt on.
I pulled out of his driveway without looking back at him, willing my heartbeat to steady, my breathing to calm. I wondered if I’d imagined it, if Reese was just being nice, entertaining me by adopting a dog and then thanking me like any other person would.
But it was him who’d reached for my hand.
It was him who’d held me close.
And it was his lips that had touched my skin, the first time in my life that I’d wanted it, asked for it, even if I hadn’t spoken the request out loud.
All of those facts scrambled in my brain like eggs in a frying pan, and the longer I analyzed them, the more they burned, the smell of it all so nauseating I had no choice but to shake the thoughts altogether.
It was just a hug, just an innocent kiss on the forehead.
That was the last thing I told myself before I chose not to think of it again.
CHAPTER TEN
* * *
Reese
Another crack of lightning flashed, illuminating the entire house before it fell completely dark again. The low roll of thunder quickly followed, melding with the rain that hammered the roof in a chaotic symphony. Rojo whimpered a little, snuggling even closer to me on the couch, her chin resting on my chest.
Thunderstorms had rocked through Mount Lebanon all weekend, and for once it felt like the universe was on my side. I wanted to be miserable, to lie in a dark house with nothing to do but sulk and watch my candles burn. Another low rumble of thunder reverberated through the house, as if the weather was saying you’re welcome.
The date had snuck up on me for the first time in my life.
June twenty-ninth usually started hovering over my head somewhere in the middle of May, and I’d watch that little square on my wall calendar get closer and closer, knowing that when it hit, it’d mark another year without my family. But this year, I’d been so caught up in my routine, in playing at The Kinky Starfish and working with Sarah that I hadn’t noticed. Figuring out my new routine with Rojo added to it, and I’d spent the week taking her for walks and exploring nearby dog parks, completely wrapped up in the bliss that she brought, in the warm, long days of summer.
No, I hadn’t felt that cloud hovering, not until the moment it let loose and a thousand rain drops descended on me like a bucket of ice water.
Today marked five years without my parents, without my little sister, Mallory.
Without my soul.
I wasn’t sure if it was the shock of the date coming without me realizing it that had knocked me on my ass, or if the jolt of this particular hit rested in the fact that it had been five full years — a milestone that had come in what seemed like the blink of an eye. Whichever one it was, it had rendered me nearly dead, and I was thankful it was a Sunday, that it was storming — the weather outside just as miserable as I was inside.
I was also thankful for Rojo, who must have known something was off. From the moment I woke up, she was glued to my side, or — like now — to my chest, her body sprawled out over me in a protective blanket of heat. I rubbed the fur under her collar, dry eyes locked on the ceiling as the day slipped away.
Every year on this date, I’d think of their smiles, their voices, the little quirks that made them so uniquely them. I’d think of how old they would be, what they would be doing if they were still here. My sister would be married, I imagined — maybe pregnant, or maybe already with a kid or two. My parents would be retired, no doubt, and likely living out Mom’s dream of owning a lake house out on Lake Mockamixon. I wondered if I’d still be in New York, if they’d fly to visit me for Christmas, if we’d all meet up for a week in the summer at the lake house. I could close my eyes and picture it, the four of us together. A family.
Except I couldn’t see them as clearly, anymore.
Five years had passed, time slowly erasing their faces — their voices — from my memory. I could look at photographs, like the one that sat on my piano, but I couldn’t close my eyes and just see them or hear them, anymore.
My chest ached with the realization that they might be leaving me, for good this time. Forever.
Rojo nuzzled me, licking my chin before curling herself into me more. Tears pooled in my eyes but they stayed there, no blinks to set them free as I swallowed past the tightness in my throat.
“Sorry your new owner is such a mess,” I spoke softly to Rojo, running my hand over the smooth fur on her head.
She laid her head on my chest again, letting out an exaggerated breath through her nose. I imagined if she had a voice, she’d tell me to stop being such a baby and get up and do something with my day. But, even if she could tell me that, I’d just have to add her to the list of people I’d let down in my life.
There was nothing getting me off that couch.
It wasn’t quite dusk yet, but the heavy storm made it feel like it was midnight, the sky black and ominous outside my window. The only light was the low flicker of the two candles I’d lit on the coffee table, and I tried to find comfort in their warm glow as I closed my eyes again.
I just wanted to see them, to hear Mallory’s obnoxious laugh that I used to make fun of her for, to feel my parents’ arms wrap around me in a hug the way they did when I was nine years old. It had only been five years, and already I felt them slipping away. Life had gone on without them, moving at the same steady pace it always had, and somehow, that offended me. It wasn’t fair that the world kept spinning like that, when everything in my world had been taken.
A knock at the door caught me off guard, my eyes snapping open as Rojo scrambled off me in a fit of barks. Her nails skittered across the hardwood floor as she ran to the door, and I groaned, throwing the blanket off me and peeling myself out of the permanent home I’d made in the cushions that day.
As I suspected, there was a perfect indention of my body left behind.
“Alright, alright,” I said to Rojo as I made my way to the door. She continued barking, not at all fazed by my acknowledgement that I, too, kne
w there was someone at the door.
Who was there was another story altogether.
I’d cancelled my lesson with Sarah, explaining that I was feeling under the weather and didn’t want her to get sick, too. No one else was expected, and with it basically tornado-ing outside, every normal human being should have been inside.
Rojo was still barking when I opened the door, and on the other side of the screen door was the absolute last person I wanted to see.
Charlie stood on my porch, shielded by the overhang as she wrangled an oversized umbrella back to its folded state. The rain poured heavily behind her, a flash of lightning illuminating her silhouette like it wanted to brand it into my memory forever.
“Charlie?” I asked, swinging the screen door open and ushering her inside. Rojo was still barking, hopping around at my feet first before she moved to Charlie and circled back again. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Rain dripped off her floral print jacket and onto my floor, and she stood at the entryway with an almost apologetic smile, umbrella in one hand and her car keys in the other.
“I’m sorry,” she said, almost too softly to be heard over the rain and Rojo’s barking.
I closed the door behind her, helping her out of her wet coat and hanging it on the rack by the door along with her umbrella.
“I should have called,” she said again, her voice more clear now that the door was closed, the storm muted outside. Rojo licked at the water on the floor before nudging Charlie’s hand. She smiled, not even needing to bend over to reach Rojo’s head with her small hand. “Who is this?”
Confusion still whirred inside me like the wind outside as I stared at her in my house. I hadn’t seen her since school let out, and I hadn’t planned to.
“Um, this is Rojo,” I finally answered, shoving a hand back through my hair.
“You got a dog?” Charlie asked, smiling at me as she peeked up from where she was petting Rojo.
Best Kept Secrets: The Complete Series Page 64