She. Loved. Him. A short spurt of joy cooled his anger. Why did she love him? Wariness steamed in his veins. Did she love him for what he could do for her if he became a composer again? By sending out his song without asking, she’d proved her level of loyalty.
Shaking his head, he rejected what she said. Rejected her. “I can never forgive you for what you’ve done.”
“Don’t forgive me.” Her voice turned harsh. She placed her hands on her hips in a combative stance. “You need to forgive yourself for the past.”
“You don’t know everything about my past.” He fisted his hands at his sides. “Elizabeth went behind my back. She lied. She stole.”
Elizabeth broke him, not his heart. Because he realized now he never really loved her. His feelings paled in comparison to what he felt for Quinn. He was breaking his own heart this time, even though she claimed to love him. Better for him to end it before he was totally suckered in, before she could break him even more.
“The world needs more music written by Reed O’Donnell.” She spoke like a prophet which rubbed him the wrong way and caused him to lash out.
She didn’t understand the world of professional music. How cutthroat the business was, how quickly you needed to create, how you could be hot one moment and stone cold the next. He’d held everything in his hands, and now he had…nothing. “Too bad. The world never did anything for me.”
“How can you say such things? You’ve lived an amazing life. Have a wonderful brother and sister. Started a second career you love. Live in this wonderful town.” She swung her arms around, encompassing all he possessed.
He hated that she made sense.
He wasn’t ready to accept anything she said. He’d committed to Elizabeth too soon. He’d lost her in a tragic accident where he’d suffered physical and emotional injury. He’d lost the music. “Leave my house, Quinn. I don’t want to see you again.”
Because his will was weakening. He wanted to yank her into his arms and kiss her senseless. He wanted to hear her claim of love again.
She staggered back again, and he wanted to catch her. Her expression fell, and her eyes pooled with tears. Swiping at her face, she headed for the door. Headed out of his life forever. She took one step and the next. Each move stomped on his heart.
Swinging around at the last second, she tossed him a regretful expression. “You deserve to be heard.”
* * *
You deserve to be heard.
Reed pffft at the idea hours later. Quinn hadn’t claimed to love him again. She hadn’t said she couldn’t live without him. It was about his song and how he could be successful. How she wanted him to be successful. In his mind he knew he was being selfish, but he wanted her to love him for him.
He slumped on the entryway step of his house in the last spot he’d seen Quinn. The home was quiet, yet he heard echoes of their argument. He’d lost his motivation to unpack. He’d lost her. He’d lost everything.
Desolation and agony echoed in his empty chest.
You deserve to be heard.
Why would anyone want to hear what he had to say? Hear his music?
He’d been successful before. So had a lot of other people. There were hundreds, possibly thousands, of one-hit wonders.
Of course, he heard his music constantly. Since Quinn, the melodies wouldn’t stop playing in his head. He needed to write them down and put lyrics to the tune before his mind would stop churning with his thoughts and emotions.
Grabbing his hair with both hands, he let his head drop between his knees. He’d finally believed he could love and be loved. For himself. Not for his talent and his music. Because Elizabeth had never loved him. She’d loved what he could do for her. She’d loved being part of his entourage and his girlfriend. She loved taking control of his life and screwing things up.
He’d believed Quinn was different. Except she’d sent his song off to a complete stranger. A stranger who would demand more songs. Demand more of him. He’d lose the joy of creating. And for what? So he could make more money and Quinn could be taken care of in grand style.
A shiver wracked his body. He didn’t want to live in a grand style. He wanted to live here, in this house, in Castle Ridge.
She’d said she wanted to live here, too, an inner voice taunted.
Supposedly, she loved Castle Ridge, and didn’t yearn for the bright lights of New York. She’d loved this home and been devastated when she’d lost it. He knew that was true.
Why would she send the song off to some stranger? Why wouldn’t she ask first?
He would’ve said no. He probably never would’ve shared a song again. He would’ve been stubborn.
Stubbornness had kept him from playing the piano for the past few years. Stubbornness and fear. He’d had the ability and the full range of motion in his fingers. But if he couldn’t hear music in his head, why would he want to play?
Another shiver wracked him. Playing in front of strangers again? Sharing his music with the world? He hated the fact he yearned to compose. He’d expected after tossing Quinn out the door the music would abandon him. If anything, the noise in his head became louder, screaming for attention. Screaming for him to put his emotions into notes and chords and lyrics.
Getting to his feet, he trudged to his truck and pulled out the small electronic keyboard. He grabbed his construction notebook from the front seat and brought both of them into the house.
Glancing around, he scanned the large open space. He kept stopping at the spot where Quinn’s grandmother’s piano had sat. If he was going to push himself, force himself to discover who he was now and what he wanted, he needed to go all the way.
Setting the keyboard in the spot where Quinn’s grandmother’s piano had sat at one time, he rattled his fingers on the keys, picking out the most effective chords.
He composed and he healed.
Stretching his stiff limbs, he got up and prowled around the lonely house. A house that had spoken to him when he bought it and he’d decided to keep the home for himself. To see Quinn here, loving the same place, had helped him heal even more.
Letting the music speak to him, his subconscious counseled and organized his thoughts like notes in an arrangement. Organized and processed his feelings for Quinn.
She hadn’t meant to deceive him. He realized that now. She’d been trying to help. She believed in him and his music.
He had to believe in himself.
The day had gone dark. House lights went on across the street. All he had was a heavy-duty flashlight and the light of his love to compose by. His fingers moved faster on the keyboard. He sketched the notes down on paper, with words to match. Normally, it took him days, sometimes weeks, to compose a single song. This afternoon and tonight, he’d written as fast as she danced across a stage. She’d sent his music off in secret so he wouldn’t worry, or if he was rejected he wouldn’t be aware. His heart softened. She’d been thinking of him. Not herself.
She’d been right about a lot of things. How he should be heard again, because he had something to say. How he did have a lot to be thankful for. He only hoped it wasn’t too late to salvage what they had together. He loved her, and now knew he deserved her love.
Hope filled his emptiness. His music spoke of hope and love and happiness for the future. This afternoon, she’d confessed she’d loved him. He had to believe that was still true.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Stretching onto her toes, Quinn twisted her hands together, viewing the crowd gathered to watch and participate in her grand opening showcase at the dance studio. The reception area was crowded with rented plastic chairs filled with people. There was Izzy and Dax. And Danielle and Brianna. And a host of people she’d met and become friends with in the past few weeks.
There was no Reed.
Quinn’s lungs squeezed. Tears prickled. She refused to cry. This was supposed to be a triumphant night.
Izzy had counseled on his stubbornness. Dax had over-explained his absence. Quinn knew Reed
hated her, and would never forgive. She hadn’t known about how his fiancée had deceived him and messed with his career. Quinn had sent the song out of love, out of a need to protect and yet cherish his gift.
Without realizing it, she’d crossed his line about deception. She’d ruined the best relationship she’d ever had. Would ever have. Her lungs constricted again. With or without Reed, the show must go on.
“Thank you for coming to our Opening Dance Extravaganza. I’m Quinn Petrov, and I’ve had the pleasure of teaching students of all ages for the past two weeks.” Her gaze touched on the people she’d become close to. Living in Castle Ridge without Reed by her side would be tough, but worth it. She loved the town and she loved the people in it. “If my students can do this in two weeks, imagine what your dancing skills will be after a month or two months.”
The audience laughed, knowing a sales pitch when they heard one.
“Let’s start with our youngest students.” Making sure the kids were in their places, she clicked the music on. “They’ll be doing a short ballet sequence.”
The toddlers went through basic positions, each one a bit off-rhythm. They pliéd, and relevéd, and sautéd. The last, a small jump, was greeted with applause. Quinn’s mind wasn’t with them. She watched through a haze of misery, reminding her of when she’d first heard Reed play the piano. He’d sounded tortured and miserable.
Clapping interrupted her thoughts. The toddlers were done.
“Weren’t they sweet?” She glanced at the audience again. Still no Reed. The obstinate man had taken years to forgive himself for his fiancée’s death, why would he forgive her in two days?
He should’ve let her explain her side. She’d sent the song off for him, not against him. She hadn’t known how damaged he’d been by Elizabeth’s tricks. Because he hadn’t told her.
She stomped her foot. “Next, we have our grade-school and middle-school students.”
The next group of kids filed onto the dance floor. Sara limped in at the back. She reminded Quinn of when Reed first started dancing. His limp had improved, and so had Sara’s. Quinn also remembered how sweet he’d been to the child.
Her throat dried at the image of her and him, together in his house, with their children. His song had expressed his love, and yet, with one mistake, he’d thrown her love away, not even willing to discuss.
More clapping. She needed to pay attention to her show. This was important to her future, because she didn’t have a future with Reed.
The middle school kids were next, and with the usual assortment of girls were three boys. She couldn’t help but be proud of the accomplishment. When they were done, she clapped extra loud for the co-ed group.
“Up next is the high school students.”
The smaller kids scattered back into the audience and the high school girls spread out across the dance floor, including Brianna.
Quinn clicked the remote. No music played.
Her blood pressure spiked, taking her out of the numbness she’d lived with since her argument with Reed. The stereo system repair guy had come and couldn’t replicate the problem. Of course she could, on the day of her showcase.
She clicked the remote again and again. “Excuse me for a second.”
She hurried to the system on the wall console and pushed the power button off and on again. Nothing. The manual slipped off the top and fell to the floor. Freezing, she stared at the black-and-white manual where she’d found Reed’s song. The song he’d composed for her, and she’d carelessly scanned and emailed to a friend. Not carelessly. She’d sent the song out of love and respect. She punched the power button harder.
“Something wrong?” A deep, male voice rumbled through her.
A beloved voice.
She raised her head.
Reed stood beside her in nice slacks and a dress shirt. His handsome face gave a short, tremulous smile. His gaze glimmered with something other than disgust. Could it be love?
Her heart hitched and raced at a rapid pace. She’d believed he’d loved her. He’d written a love song for her.
“Everything’s wrong.” And she meant more than with the music. Everything was wrong without him.
“Can I help?” He leaned toward her with eagerness.
Hope soared, fluttering in her chest. “Will you help? Help me always?” She whispered the last part, aware of their audience.
“Always.” His serious tone bespoke volumes, spoke more than the lyrics in his song. His eyes bored into hers, making a solemn vow.
“I’m sorry I sent out your song.”
“I’m not. It forced me to make some decisions.” His green orbs softened with seriousness. “I thought you were pushing me back into the New York life.”
“I risked everything to be successful here. I love Castle Ridge.”
“Me, too.” He held out his arms and she rushed into them, coming home.
Because home wasn’t a place for her, it was a person. Reed.
His lips claimed hers and joy lit through her bloodstream giving her hope wings. The kiss was a promise.
He’d been suffering, too. His past had affected his perspective. And hopefully now, things were in proper order. She’d learned more about him in the day they’d been apart, learned more about herself. He needed time to process; his music came from his soul, and was a precious gift. A gift she shouldn’t have passed along until he was ready.
Clapping broke out from the crowd. Loud, piercing whistles and catcalls. Heat scorched her cheeks, but it was a good embarrassment, a happy embarrassment. They were happy for her and Reed. Knowing they’d have a lifetime to sort things out, she broke off the kiss and pointed at the stereo. “I’ve got to finish the showcase.”
He grinned broadly, and started fiddling with the wires. The air crackled and then went out completely. “I don’t think I can fix this.”
“We can fix us, right?” She rubbed a finger across her just-kissed lips.
He nodded and tried again with the stereo. Nothing happened.
“Sorry, everyone. One more minute.” Stretching on her toes, she clasped her hands together. This was her showcase. The event was the first step in making her dance studio a success. She turned to the one person she counted on. Reed. “What am I going to do?”
“I might not be able to fix the stereo, but I can make music.” Swiveling, he started in the direction of the piano. “And I know the songs.”
Startled, she grabbed his sleeve. “No. You don’t have to.” She didn’t want to force him to do anything he wasn’t ready for. She’d rather suffer the loss of business, than have him play piano for an audience.
* * *
Reed scanned the audience of mostly friends. Nerves tripped in his stomach, but nothing like the paralyzing fear he’d first had after the accident. The only stranger in the audience was the music executive he’d picked up from the airport. The reason he was late.
The executive’s number had been in Reed’s recent call list on his phone. He’d hesitated before placing the call. He was willing to hear what the man said and then make a decision. A decision he planned to make with Quinn by his side.
He knew the song the high schoolers were dancing to from memory. He also knew the song the adults were performing. He could do this. He would do this. For Quinn.
“I can perform. I want to perform.” He also needed to do it for himself, to prove how much he’d grown. To show he’d forgiven himself.
The confidence pumping through him didn’t quite make it to his feet and fingers. The audience’s attention followed him with each step he took across the dance floor.
He sat at the piano and placed his fingers on the keys. Scanning the audience, his gaze lighted on Izzy and Dax’s expectant expressions. He connected with Quinn, who had her head held high, as if willing him fearlessness. His hands stopped shaking. Nodding at her, he set his fingers down.
“Sorry about the delay. We’ve had some trouble with our stereo system. I’m happy to announce we have world-ren
owned pianist Reed O’Donnell to accompany the rest of our dancers.”
He really wasn’t world-renowned anymore, and didn’t want to be. He’d be happy composing and constructing and building a life with Quinn.
The audience clapped. Dax whistled. Izzy stood on her feet.
With calm fingers, he began to play. Peering over the piano, he connected with Quinn again. Her look boosted him. He could do this.
For her. For him. For their future.
The high school dance blurred past him. All he heard was the music, the joyfulness in his heart.
“Now for the adults.” Quinn moved beside him and asked, “Do you mind if I dance with Dax, so you can play?”
Reed straightened his spine. He knew he had nothing to be jealous of. “As long as you’ll dance with me later. In private.”
Her face glowed. Her smile broadened and brightened his insides. “I’ll dance with you for the rest of our lives.”
He floated through the final song. His fingers whizzed over the keyboard. His shoulders swayed through the tune.
The audience applauded the end of the dance.
“Thank you everyone for participating and attending. We have snacks to celebrate.” Quinn glided toward the piano. “Let’s give an extra round of applause for Reed O’Donnell, for providing the music.”
Standing, he bowed. “To celebrate Quinn’s opening I have a gift for her.”
She placed a hand on her chest. Her gaze widened in surprise and softened with love.
Love.
A tingle went from the top of his head to his feet. He wiggled his toes. Any doubt cleared from his mind. Quinn loved him. And with her love, he could accomplish anything.
The audience oohed and aahed.
His love gushed, surrounding his heart. “I love you, Quinn.”
She cupped his chin, her fingers holding his face like a cherished object. “I love you, too. With all my heart.”
“This is the gift.” Stretching his fingers, he cleared his mind and connected his gaze to hers. Staring into her eyes, he began to play. Quinn’s song. Formerly entitled For Quinn. Now, Quinn-tessential. Because she was essential to him.
The Romance Dance: Castle Ridge Small Town Romance Page 25