And I can’t stomach the thought of anyone else touching me because the only one who ever has didn’t ask me before he did.
I felt Reese’s eyes on me, and I knew he wanted to ask more questions. I knew he saw the same pain in me that I saw in him. And maybe that was the only reason we saw it at all — because we lived it. You had to understand what that felt like to be able to recognize it, like there was an exclusive club for the eternally heartbroken.
“You did good today,” he said after a moment. “We’re making progress already, and it’s only been a few weeks. So, just know your dedication is paying off.”
I smiled, making a noise with my next breath before popping off the barstool and looking at Reese. “Awesome. Looks like I have a prayer of saving my long-term relationship with my piano boyfriend, after all.”
Reese chuckled at that, and we slipped back into easy conversation as we went over my homework until we saw each other for our next lesson. He walked me to the door, the same way he had with Charlie, and I climbed into my car with my chest still tight.
I stared at the wheel with the key in the ignition but not turned for what felt like a lifetime, Charlie’s eyes in my mind just as much as my professor’s.
Reese and I shared a similar pain, but there was a difference — because he didn’t run from his.
I’d fled Bramlock the morning after my professor assaulted me, too much of a coward to even tell my roommate that I wasn’t coming back. And here was Reese, living day in and day out with the woman he loved, the woman who didn’t love him in return, prancing around him and reminding him of everything he had lost.
They worked together.
He was a part of their family.
Reese thought I was the dedicated one, the strong one, the driven one. I may have given up what was necessary to chase my dream, but it was him who was strong. It was him who was dedicated.
He loved that woman so much that he put himself through a daily self-flagellation just to keep her in his life.
I didn’t know how to feel about that. I didn’t know if I was even allowed to feel anything at all.
But as I turned the key and backed out of his driveway, it was the only thing on my mind.
Reese
The following week, Sarah stood beside me backstage at the end-of-the-year concert with wide eyes and hands wringing together like she wanted to squeeze the sweat out of them.
“You’re going to be fine,” I assured her, straightening one of my students’ ties. He smiled up at me when I was done, scampering off to join his friends as I stood again. “And once you hear these kids play, you’ll understand why you shouldn’t be nervous at all. They’re still learning basics.”
“I’m not nervous,” she finally said.
I cocked a brow. “Those three words are the most you’ve said since you got here.”
Sarah smiled, letting her shoulders relax a little. “I’m just excited. It reminds me of my recitals when I was younger. I mean, we did shows at Bramlock, but I couldn’t ever get excited about those, because they were always for a grade. You know?” She shrugged. “Today, I just get to play for me.”
“You get to play for you,” I agreed with a nod. “You know, it’s been so long since I was in school, I almost forgot that pressure. Of course, for me, it wasn’t bad — mostly because I didn’t give a shit about anything.”
Sarah smirked.
“But, for you? For someone who cares and wants to excel?” I shook my head. “I can’t even imagine that kind of pressure. And your uncle told me your professor at Bramlock was Wolfgang Edison. He’s a legend, an absolute legend. I mean, his parents even named him Wolfgang,” I added with a laugh. “He was literally born to play. I’m sure that was a lot of added pressure, being taught by him.”
I glanced over at Sarah, and when I did, my smile slid from my face like a runny egg. Her wide, cat-like eyes were doubled in size now, like she’d seen a ghost, and her face was pale and long. She didn’t respond to my assessment, and my stomach sank with the realization that I’d said something wrong, said something to make her nervous when she’d been only excited.
“Sarah?” I reached for her, but she cleared her throat and moved away from the touch. I still had that hand extended toward her when someone else’s hand clapped me on the shoulder.
“Ah, another year come to an end,” Mr. Henderson said, sidling up beside me. “You know, this concert has only gotten better since you’ve been with us, Reese. I was just talking to some parents out on the floor, and they all agree.”
Sarah was staring at the piano on the stage — the one waiting for her — like it was a bomb she knew would detonate at any moment. She wouldn’t look at me, and my stomach sank further as I tore my gaze from her, forcing a smile at her uncle, instead.
Way to fucking go, Reese.
“I’m just thankful to be here,” I said, sliding my hands in the pockets of my slacks.
“Ah, we’re lucky to have you,” Mr. Henderson said. He always looked like he’d just indulged in a glass of wine, his cheeks high and rosy, smile a little too wide as he turned his gaze to his niece. “And we’re extra lucky to have you, Sarah. It’s been so long since I’ve watched you perform…” He shook his head. “How old were you last time? Fifteen?”
Sarah blinked, but otherwise, didn’t acknowledge her uncle’s question.
I cleared my throat, leaning toward Mr. Henderson. “She’s a little nervous. Why don’t we give her some space to get ready, I wanted to go over the program with you one last time, anyway.”
He winked conspiratorially, offering one last break a leg to his niece before we made our way farther backstage. I glanced over my shoulder at Sarah, hoping she was relieved to have us gone, but she didn’t move an inch.
She was still staring at that piano.
I should have been focusing on what Mr. Henderson was saying as we roamed around backstage, should have had my attention fixed on Charlie as she trotted over to us with last-minute changes. But all the while, I listened to them and spoke to them with my mind on an earlier conversation.
I ran through everything I’d said to Sarah, wondering where I’d gone wrong. I wondered if just talking about Bramlock made her uncomfortable, if it reminded her of her injury. Or maybe she missed her professor. I knew I would have seen me as a downgrade from Wolfgang Edison, but it had been Sarah who’d asked her uncle if he could get her lessons with me. She’d been the one to ask for me by name.
Still, something I’d said had rattled her. And I felt the weight of that guilt as her uncle introduced her on stage, bringing the concert to a start. It was too late to do anything about it now. All I could do was hope I hadn’t messed her up too bad, hadn’t shaken her confidence so much that it’d show in her playing. It didn’t stop me from feeling like an ass as I tucked myself behind the stage right curtains, watching the light and shadows play on her face as she took her seat on the bench.
The room applauded politely, and Sarah smiled briefly at them before tilting her head to each side and stretching her wrists out in front of her. She rolled them twice, and when she dropped them to the piano, her eyes caught mine for the briefest second.