Now, I wasn’t so sure.
I sighed just as a soft knock rapped on my door, and Aunt Betty creaked it open a few inches, making sure I was decent before she let herself all the way in.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” she said, a sweet, genuine smile on her face as she folded her hands in front of her. It was odd how much of my uncle I saw when I looked at her. It was as if spending years of their lives together had combined them slightly, like they were one person cloned instead of two individuals. “Was that your mom on the phone?”
I nodded. “Yeah, we were just catching up a little. I told her about my first lesson with Mr. Walker.”
“Ah,” Aunt Betty said, crossing the room until she sat at the foot of the bed. “And how was that first lesson?”
“It was… interesting.”
She smiled at that, as if she knew that answer was coming before I gave it to her. “Well, Reese Walker is interesting, isn’t he?” She sighed. “That boy has been through a lot, what with everything that happened to his family. And then there’s…” She paused, fingers floating up to her lips like she wanted to physically stop her next sentence. “Well, he’s just had to endure a lot of heartache in his life. Poor man. But he sure does seem to throw all of that hurt into his music, doesn’t he?”
I sat up, leaning my back against the wall of pillows. “What happened with his family?”
My aunt’s brows bent together then. “I’m not sure that’s my story to tell, but I bet he will talk to you about it. When he’s ready to.”
I nodded, both of us falling quiet as I thought back through the videos I’d watched of Reese. They were mostly recent ones at The Kinky Starfish, and none of them really offered much detail about the man playing. I was sure I could get online and do some searching for his family, but the thought of invading his privacy like that made my stomach knot.
I knew what it was like to be invaded, and I never wanted to impress that feeling upon anyone else.
“Sarah?”
I blinked, snapping back to the moment. “Hmm?”
Aunt Betty’s eyes softened, her hand reaching out to touch my arm. Even though I saw it coming, I still flinched involuntarily, and that made my aunt frown more. “I just want you to know that your uncle and I are so happy to have you here, and we love you very much,” she said. “I know it must be hard being away from you mom, and from your school… and I just wanted to say if there’s anything I can do to help you get acclimated here, don’t hesitate to tell me.”
The way she spoke, I wondered if she’d overheard my conversation with my mom on the phone. Did she hear me expressing how I felt in their home, in their town?
It hit me then that out of place was the last thing I should be feeling when my family had reached such a gracious, welcoming hand out to me.
“I know,” I said, squeezing her hand where it rested over my arm. “Thank you so much, Aunt Betty. I couldn’t do this without you and Uncle Randall helping me.”
“Oh, posh,” she said, standing. “You could. You’re the most determined young woman I’ve ever known. I would be scared, if I were Reese Walker.” She winked. “He’s certainly not prepared for Sarah Henderson.”
I chuckled.
“Anyway, wash up and come to the dining room. I made the most fantastic vegan spread.” She smirked. “Much to your uncle’s disdain.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” I offered with a cringe. “I could have cooked my own.”
“Don’t be silly. Your uncle and I could both stand to eat a little better, anyway. Lord knows we’ve had enough dairy and meat to last a lifetime.”
I smiled. “Thank you, Aunt Betty. For everything.”
She just winked again, closing the door behind her when she’d gone.
I peeled myself out of bed and into the guest bath, washing my hands and splashing some cool water on my face. When I looked in the mirror, dabbing the water off with a towel, my eyes skated over the young woman staring back at me — the smooth head, the dark skin, blotted with freckles and completely free of makeup, the high cheek bones and thick lips.
She somehow felt years older than the girl who had stared back at me in December.
I wondered if I’d ever see that girl again.
Sarah
I went back to Reese Walker’s house the following evening, and this time, I was alone.
I thought my hands couldn’t shake more than they did when I stood on his porch, waiting for him to open the door after I knocked. I thought I couldn’t get any more nervous than I already was to be alone with him — a man. An older man. An older man who could easily overpower me, if he wanted to. And I thought my stomach couldn’t wind up any tighter than it already had as I drove across town to his place.
But when he opened the door, every sensation doubled.
Everything about Reese’s presence was large — his stature, his muscles, his energy. His hair was swept back in a loose, knotted-like bun, a few strands falling behind his ears, and he was dressed like he’d just gotten home from school — khaki pants, hunter green button-up, the sleeves bunched at his elbows. He smiled, stepping aside to let me through the door, but all I could do was stare at the space with my feet glued to his porch.
He’s not my wolf.
I tried to soothe my racing heart, tried to assure my labored lungs that there was nothing to be afraid of. But how could I be sure? I wanted to trust Reese, to trust anyone, but the truth was nothing had been earned yet.
And I’d learned my lesson about giving trust to someone just because of the position they held.
Reese cleared his throat. “It’s safe, I promise. Cleared out the boogie men right before you got here.”
I sighed at that, shaking my head at myself as I scooted past Reese and into his foyer. He shut only the glass door behind us, leaving the big door open so the evening sun could stream through the living room. I adjusted my messenger bag on my shoulder, offering him a timid smile.
“Sorry,” I said. “I get a little nervous in new environments.”
It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t necessarily a lie, either.
“Hey, no need to apologize. I think it’s smart of you to be wary of your surroundings. But, hopefully, I can make you feel comfortable the more we work together.” He slid his hands in his pockets. “Would you like something to drink before we get started?”
“Water would be nice.” My throat was still dry, hands clammy.
“You got it. I’ll meet you in there,” he said, pointing to the piano room. Then, he turned, leaving me alone in the foyer.
I took my time making my way into the room where his piano was, surveying the paintings on his walls and the lack of any personal photos. There was only one that I’d noticed, and I’d seen it two nights before during our first lesson — a photo of an older couple and a beautiful young lady that sat perched on top of his piano. Judging by the man’s strong jaw, by the smile of the woman to his left, and by the eyes of the young girl that stood in front of them, I could only guess that it was his family.
My aunt’s words from the night before had me staring at that photo a little longer this time.