Best Kept Secrets: The Complete Series

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Best Kept Secrets: The Complete Series Page 67

by Kandi Steiner


  I gasped, sucking in what felt like my first breath, the oxygen burning my deprived lungs. My brain had turned on me, warping the past with reality, and I couldn’t see past the illusion, couldn’t slow my heart or overcome the confusion that paralyzed me. I shivered so violently I could barely drive, but I kept on, the image of Wolfgang on top of me still so fresh in my mind I would have sworn it was happening all over again if I couldn’t feel that steering wheel under my hands. I shook my head against the visions, letting the tears mix with the rain on my face as the pain tore through me.

  I’d always wondered, always feared, and now I had my answer.

  I’d never be free of my wolf.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  * * *

  Sarah

  My eyes were dry as I stared up at the ceiling, counting the specks of glitter that freckled the popcorn ceiling in the guest room. I wondered if Aunt Betty had it sprayed with glitter or if it had been built that way. I also wondered if turning off the ceiling fan that spun above me would help with how dry my eyes were, but the thought of moving, of crawling out of the comforter I’d burrowed into for the last two days seemed nearly impossible. My knees would probably fail under the weight of my body, send me crashing to the floor.

  It was my turn to fake sick, to call out of everything in life — including the last two days of lessons with Reese. I hadn’t even been able to be the one to tell him I wasn’t coming, pleading with my uncle to make the calls for me both Monday and Tuesday. I couldn’t face him, not even through the safety of my cell phone screen.

  I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to again.

  Everything I’d worked for, everything I had planned out when I came to Pennsylvania was blown away in an instant Sunday night.

  And it was my fault.

  I groaned as the memory resurfaced again, just as it had over and over and over again since I left his house. Reese was my first real kiss — the first one I’d wanted, silently pleaded for, felt in every inch of my body once his lips were on mine. It was everything I’d ever wanted from a kiss, and it came from a man I knew could do better than me. He could kiss any woman he wanted, be with any woman in Mount Lebanon, and yet it’d been me he’d reached for.

  And I ran away.

  A gentle knock on my bedroom door made me blink, the memory fading away as Aunt Betty let herself in my room. Her face crumpled when she saw me, still buried under blankets and pillows, but she offered a soft smile as she carried the tray in her hand over.

  “I brought more soup,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her eyes trailed my bedside table, where the last bowl of soup she brought me still sat untouched — along with unopened boxes of cold medicine she’d purchased.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  She watched me as silence fell over us, and I wished I could talk to her, open up to her, tell her something — anything — to make her feel at ease. I knew I was worrying her and my uncle both, that all they wanted was to help. But I was beyond their reach, beyond anyone’s.

  I just wanted to be alone.

  Aunt Betty exchanged the bowls, placing the cold bowl of soup on her tray and the other on the table for me. Then, she folded her hands on the handles, staring at them a moment before she looked at me again.

  “How do you feel about coming to the store with me?” she asked with a smile. “It won’t be anything crazy, just need to pick up a few groceries. I thought maybe you could help me with this vegan recipe I want to try.”

  Every muscle in my body tensed at the thought, and I curled in on myself against the cramp, shaking my head almost imperceptibly. “I’d really like to rest, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course,” she said quickly. “I know you want to rest. I just…” She swallowed, eyes softening as she reached over and smoothed her hand over my arm. I didn’t flinch away like I used to, maybe because I didn’t have the energy. “Did something happen?”

  I blinked, swallowing past the knot in my throat.

  When I didn’t answer, Aunt Betty squeezed my arm before pulling her hand away. “You know, it’s okay. We don’t have to talk. Just know I’m here if you need anything at all. Okay?”

  I nodded. “I know. Thank you, Aunt Betty. And, I’m sorry.”

  She smiled, standing with the tray in her hands. “Don’t be sorry for being sick, sweet girl.”

  Aunt Betty let herself out, a quiet snick of the door closing letting me know I was alone again.

  The fan whirred on, providing the white noise I needed to let my thoughts run wild. They seemed to have more energy than my body ever would again. For a moment, I debated peeling myself out of bed to go to the store with my aunt, knowing it was already Wednesday and I’d have to face the world again sometime.

  But the bigger part of me just wanted to live in the solace of my bedroom a while longer.

  I sighed, blindly reaching over for where my phone was buried under a pillow. I swiped to my mom’s name, putting her on speakerphone and resting my head again once it was ringing.

  “Mwen chouchou, I was wondering when I’d hear from you.”

  I didn’t speak, but my eyes watered at the sound of her voice, my bottom lip trembling before I bit down hard to stop it.

  “What is it, sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut at that, setting the tears I’d managed to hold back free. They tumbled down my hot cheeks, dampening the pillow. “I messed up, Manman. I messed up so badly.”

  I cried harder, my mother soothing me from the other end of the phone. I imagined the comforter around me was her arms, that she was holding me and petting my hair — the hair I once had — telling me everything would be okay.

  “Why don’t we start from the beginning,” she said once my sobs had quieted. “What happened?”

  I sniffed, words stirring in my mind, but I couldn’t bring a single one of them to my lips. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell my mom that I was kissed by my piano teacher, that I’d wanted him to kiss me, and that I’d run away from him because the man who raped me was haunting me like a permanent ghost I’d never be free of. I didn’t know how to explain that I felt shame for something that had happened to me, for the way it had permanently scarred me, for the way I’d tarnished a moment that could have been one of the best of my life.

  Ever since I could remember, I’d dreamed of being kissed like that, of having a man frame my face and look into my eyes and see me before his lips touched me. I’d read about romance, watched it on the television screen, but I’d never been sure it actually existed. I always wondered if it was only in fiction, if it only existed within the realms of our mind’s fantasies and creations.

  But it was real.

  The butterflies I felt around Reese, the way my heart sped up when he was near, the way I finally wanted to be touched by someone — no, not by just anyone, but by him — it was all proof that it was out there. Love. Respect. Desire.

  Hope.

  Reese had given me my dream kiss, a kiss I’d dreamed about, one I wasn’t sure could ever be reality.

  And I’d run away from him.

  All because I couldn’t shake my wolf.

  Mom sighed on the other end after a moment. “Ah,” she said. “You can’t tell me, can you?”

  I sniffed again, wiping at my nose with the sleeve of my hoodie. “It’s complicated.”

  “Most things in life are,” she said.

  She paused after that, and I wondered why I’d even called. How could I expect her to comfort me, to help me, if I couldn’t even open up to her?

  “Can you tell me anything?” she asked. “Doesn’t have to be specifics. But, maybe we can just talk about how you’re feeling.”

  I blew out a breath, nodding even though she couldn’t see me. I wanted to try, but I didn’t know where to start.

  “I feel embarrassed,” I said first. “And ashamed. I feel… damaged. And hardened. And just… sad. So, so sad, Manman.”

  “That breaks your mother’s hea
rt,” she whispered, her voice breaking like she, too, was crying.

  I squeezed my eyes closed, shaking my head against another flood of tears. I hated that I was hurting her, hurting my aunt and uncle, hurting everyone around me because I couldn’t face the thing that had hurt me.

  “Can I ask you something?” Mom said after a moment. When I didn’t answer, she continued. “What you’re feeling now, the embarrassment and hurt… does it have anything to do with what happened at Bramlock?”

  My throat tightened. “Yes,” I whispered.

  Mom was quiet a moment, and I considered switching to video chat so I could see her, see what she was thinking through her big, soft brown eyes.

  “And this thing that happened… is it what has been affecting your playing?”

  My face twisted with the threat of another sob. “It’s been affecting everything.”

  I bent in on myself again, curling my arms around my middle in a big hug. It was true, that what Wolfgang had done to me had seeped into every facet of my life. I even wondered if he was the reason I felt what I felt for Reese. Maybe it wasn’t him at all, maybe it was a twisted version of Stockholm syndrome, gearing me toward an older man again, toward my piano teacher. Maybe I wanted love from him because I’d had nothing but hate from Wolfgang.

  But none of that felt right.

  Not when I thought it, not when I poured it out on the mapping table of my brain, staring at the contents and trying to make them all fit together. I knew without question there was something more there with Reese, something past the fact that he was forbidden, that he was off limits to me as my teacher, as a man older than me.

  I wanted him, and yet I’d run from him.

  Nothing made sense.

  “Listen to me, Sarah,” my mother said, pulling me back to her just as I’d begun to spiral again. “Some things — no matter how close we are — some things will be hard to talk to your mom about. And that’s okay. It doesn’t mean anything other than there are just some things we go through as young adults that parents won’t understand.” She paused for a long moment. “I think you should call Reneé.”

  “I can’t,” I squeaked.

  “I know, I know you feel like you can’t. You think she’s mad at you for leaving the way you did. And maybe she is, but I can guarantee you, she misses you. She wants to hear from you. And I really think you need to hear from her, too.”

  I sighed, shaking my head like it wasn’t possible, but my heart swelled a bit at the thought. Maybe I could call her, apologize, let her in on what happened.

  My stomach twisted.

  “Or,” Mom said after a while. “Maybe, you could open up to Mr. Walker.”

  I stopped breathing at that.

  “Hear me out,” she said, as if she could see my freakout through the airwaves. “I know he’s your teacher, and he’s a man, and he’s older. But, I also know he’s earned a lot of your trust over the past couple of months. You’ve worked with him so much, and he’s proved to you that he cares about your wellbeing and your music. Maybe, if you open up to him about what happened at Bramlock, it would help you tackle the vulnerability aspect in your playing. I know you said that’s something he’s been asking of you.”

  I blinked, processing her words as I propped myself up more in the pillows.

  “Do you think he would listen, if you told him what happened?”

  “Without a doubt,” I said softly. “I just don’t know if I could tell him. Manman, I’m not sure I can ever tell anyone.”

  “I know,” she said on a sigh. “I know. And I wish I could crawl into that head of yours. I wish I could comfort you without you telling me a thing. I just… I think we might be past that, mwen chouchou. I think you might be at a very critical point in your journey of healing, where no matter how much it hurts, you have to talk to someone about what happened in order to keep moving forward.”

  I brought my hand to my mouth, closing my eyes at the touch as her words settled in. The thought of opening that mouth my fingers touched, of letting the words that held my truth tumble out of them nearly paralyzed me. I couldn’t imagine being able to get through the whole thing, and I definitely couldn’t fathom feeling better once the words were out.

  Still, I felt it in my heart when my mother spoke those words that they were true. It was in the way that bruised, broken thing kicked to life at the prospect, at the thought of someone else knowing, someone else being able to understand.

  At that someone being Reese.

  “You don’t need to answer me or make a decision today,” Mom said. “Just… think about it. Okay?”

  I nodded. “Okay.” Then, a long, sigh of a breath left my chest. “I miss you so much it hurts sometimes.”

  “Oh, sweetie.” Mom sniffed. “I miss you, too. But if you ever need me — ever — you just say the word and I’ll be on the first flight up to Pennsylvania.”

  “I know. Thank you, Manman. I love you.”

  “And I love you, mwen chouchou.”

  ***

  Reese

  Sweat dripped from my hairline, little drops splattering the concrete at my feet as I curled the weight, my bicep screaming. Rojo was sprawled out just a few feet away, a lazy smile on her face as she soaked up the afternoon sun. She didn’t seem fazed at all by my grunting and panting, though I imagined she was probably used to it by now.

  I gritted against the urge to stop, reveling in the feel of physical pain as opposed to the internal pain that had been gutting me since Sunday night. Four days had passed in a sort of daze, a numb transcendence of work and piano during the day, smoking and drinking at night.

  It wasn’t the routine I wanted, the one I’d found so much solace in over the summer. I longed for my lessons with Sarah, for the balance she’d brought into my life. But I hadn’t seen her since that night, since she ran away from me like I’d burned her, like I’d hurt her.

  My stomach twisted again at the thought that I truly had.

  I dropped the weight with a grunt, stretching out the arm I’d been working before switching to the other. I was sore — probably too sore to work out the way I was — but I needed a release. I needed to do something, anything, to keep my mind off what I’d done.

  I thought it was impossible to feel like a bigger piece of shit than I already did, but it turned out that, just like with everything else in my life, I’d been wrong.

  I shook my head, guilt crawling its way back up my spine like a sticky acid as I curled the weight in my left hand now. I couldn’t verbally abuse myself enough for what I’d done, for making a move on a student — a student who had trusted me, who I had taken under my wing. It was the absolute worst betrayal, to have Sarah open up to me as much as she had and take advantage of her.

  It made me sick to think about — so physically ill that I’d actually forfeited my dinner into the toilet Sunday night. It’d been nearly impossible to stomach food since then. How could I? Sarah had been there for me on a night I thought I wanted no one around. She’d listened, all judgment gone as I broke down like a fucking child in her arms. And more than that — she shared the same pain. She didn’t look at me with pity in her eyes, but with understanding.

  I didn’t realize how much I craved that connection until I had it.

  And because I’m a stupid fucking man, I acted on it. I let those feelings, that vulnerability rule me, like all self control had been blasted out the fucking window. And in the process, I’d hurt the first person I’d felt close to since Charlie.

  Fucked-Up Midas, turning everything to shit again.

  The weight fell from my hand with a clink as I sighed, brain more exhausted than my muscles. I just wanted to stop thinking — even if just for a single minute. I couldn’t escape what I’d done, not even when I was sleeping. Sarah’s wide, terrified eyes haunted me even in my dreams.

  All I wanted was to apologize to her, to look her in the eyes when I told her I truly was sorry, that I would never do anything to hurt her, and that I would swe
ar on my life and hers to never do that again — even if I wanted to.

  But I didn’t have the chance.

  She’d cancelled our lessons both Monday and Tuesday, Wednesday was our day off, and I hadn’t heard from her yet today. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever hear from her again. I wondered if her uncle was telling me she was sick to stave me off, if she was actually packing and getting ready to fly back to Georgia.

  If she was leaving, she certainly hadn’t told her uncle what happened between us. He didn’t sound like anything other than his normal, joyful self when he’d called.

  Still, it was her I wanted to talk to, her voice I wanted to hear.

  It was her eyes I wanted to look into when I apologized.

  Sweat rolled down my neck, my chest as I made my way back inside the house, Rojo trotting along behind me. She made her way to her favorite spot on the couch as I rounded into the kitchen, pouring a tall glass of cold water. I drained it all before refilling it again. Every muscle in my body screamed from the torture I’d put it through, the physical challenges I’d given myself to distract from the mental ones.

  I needed a shower, and maybe some ibuprofen.

  Although, a beer sounded better.

  Abandoning my glass on the counter by the sink, I weaved through the kitchen, the piano room, stripping off my soaked t-shirt and tossing it in the pile of laundry that needed my attention before turning into my bathroom. I reached behind the shower curtain for the faucet, but before I could turn the handle, my doorbell rang.

  Rojo sprang into action, barks echoing through the house as I stood frozen in place, my hand still hovering over the knob as my heart kicked into my throat. Somehow, I knew it was her. Maybe it was an energy, a subliminal buzzing that I couldn’t fully comprehend. Whatever the reason, every nerve was alive with awareness of her as I crossed my house, breaths shallow and muted, like they were in someone else’s body altogether. The apology I’d practiced a thousand times in my head stirred to life, too, like a carousel of I’m sorry’s. I didn’t know if she’d hear me out, if she’d even be able to look at me. And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why when I opened my front door and saw her standing there, an unearned relief washed over me.

 

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