by Katy Kaylee
That wasn’t for me. It sure as hell wasn’t the life I had ever wanted for myself.
I reached out and touched the tip of my finger to the bright red flower, feeling the soft petal beneath my skin. I hadn’t just left my old life behind when I’d come here. I’d discovered a whole new one. One that I loved. One where I finally, finally felt free.
It was still strange to think about. Just how much I had changed since fate had brought me here. And I was sure now that it was fate that had brought me to Solace, Utah. The last place on earth I would have imagined myself.
There were things I missed. I missed the music. I missed the joy of losing myself to it. But it surprised me to realize that there was so much in my past that I had never really wanted, or cared about. It just happened and I had gone along with it because it was easy, because it was expected.
For the first time in longer than I could remember, even before the terror started, I was finally able to let myself be happy.
That feeling of joy filled me and I found myself standing in front of the old upright piano. I pulled out the piano bench and sat, lifting the lid. I stared at the keys, waiting for that familiar sense of dread to fill me. For the feeling of panic and nausea to send me running.
But this time, they didn’t come.
With trembling hands, I reached out and let my fingers rest ever so lightly on the black and white keys. Center position. The very first position any young pianist learned.
I waited, and waited. For the shadows to take me. For my monster to haunt me. But all I felt was the shaking of my fingers and the music that was always inside me, wanting desperately to be let out.
I had been told after that night a year ago, after I couldn’t play, after I couldn’t stand to get up on stage, that I was suffering from PTSD from the event. I had shaken it off, telling myself it was ridiculous. Of course I could play. It was in my blood. In my bones. Playing music was like second nature to me, instinctual and necessary.
And then every time I looked at the piano or tried to sit down, tried to press the keys and make that music come to life it was ripped away from me. Panic attacks and anxiety had pushed me away from what I had loved more than anything else, but it never took the music that I heard in my soul, in my dreams.
I drew in a deep breath and then, I played. My fingers began to move over the keys, clumsy at first but even those few clumsy notes filled me with joy. Tears filled my eyes and I couldn’t see what I was playing but it didn’t matter. My hands remembered. My heart remembered.
The music flowed out of me, healing part of me that I hadn’t even realized were broken. It swept over and inside me, sweet and gentle, fast and violent. It gathered me up and took me to far off places, to different worlds. Different universes.
I lost myself in the music. Beethoven. Bach. Mozart. All those songs I had learned as a child and could play by memory alone.
Emotion choked me, filling my chest until I thought I would explode with it, until I was sure I couldn’t hold any more inside me. And I let it all flow through me. From my heart, down my arms, through my fingertips and out into the air in a bittersweet melody.
I let it all come, and I let it all go, reveling in the feeling of making music once more, of the incredible bliss that filled me.
When had I lost this joy? As a child, the music had been a way for me to escape the chaos of my family life, my distraught home. And I was good at it. The only thing I was good at. I had gotten out with a music scholarship that had probably saved my life.
Then I had started performing, I’d met Elliot, and then the tours started. My life had just gotten away from me, carrying me along for the ride. And I had let it. Because resisting was harder, and what was I resisting anyway? I was a famous musician, I made a lot of money with my skill. I had a fiancé who I had loved, and had thought loved me.
I had thought everything was so perfect, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. The truth was, my life had been hollow. I went through the motions like a trained doll. I dressed up and performed when I was told to. I spoke the words I was told to. I smiled and nodded along even though I’d been screaming inside and hadn’t even realized it.
Now, the music flowed through me like magic, healing the deep scars that I had been carrying around inside me, refusing to the let them close. It soothed away the pain, the fear, not all of it. I was pretty sure there would always a little fear there, I would always be looking over my shoulder, wondering if my monster would be there, waiting for me.
But for this moment, I was completely at peace, for the first time in longer than I could remember.
Over the past weeks, I had started to regain some of the power I had lost. The nightmares didn’t come nearly as often any more, and I knew it was because of this place, this new chance I had here.
I let all of it, the joy, the happiness, flow through my fingers and into the piano keys that they danced over.
I was so wrapped up in the magic of the music that I didn’t realize at first that I wasn’t alone. I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see Jake standing there but instead it was Owen. He stared at me with his eyes wide and jaw hanging open as I let the music trail off into silence.
“Wow. I mean, wow, I’ve never heard…” He stopped and shook his head, “That was amazing! Incredible! I didn’t even know you could play music. I didn’t know anyone could play music like that!”
I let out the laugh that bubbled up inside me and then shrugged. “I haven’t been playing much lately.”
“Man, that’s crazy,” he said as the teenager walked closer, his eyes moved to the instrument and I recognized the familiar glow in them, “If I could play like that, I would never stop.”
It was the same joy I’d had as a kid, just learning how to play. The same joy at my first recital. Nailing that first arpeggio.
“I could teach you if you want.” I had never taught before. I didn’t even know where the words came from, they just popped out of me before I could even think but the way Owen’s eyes lit up was worth the jolt.
“That would be awesome,” He said fervently, but then his excitement dimmed like a light going out, “But my dad would never let me. He says music is a waste of time.”
“A waste of time!” I had to curb my indignation. “Why?”
“He says it’s more important that I learn how to provide for myself, to work like a real man.”
I could hear all the unspoken words. I could see the shadows that formed in his eyes. Eyes that were too old for a boy of barely seventeen.
“Your dad, he’s hard on you?” I asked softly, and Owen just shrugged, his gaze still glued to the piano.
“He likes to drink a lot.”
I winced at his words. Words that brought me back to my own childhood, though it hadn’t been my dad. He’d been long gone by the time I was old enough to understand that alcohol and drugs could turn a person mean, even one who was supposed to love you and take care of you.
“My mom used to drink, too.” I looked over at the teenager, there was some stringy hairs starting to grow on his chin but his arms and legs were still as gangly as a foal’s. “My dad wasn’t around and she would drink, among other things. Sometimes I would just have to get out of the house, you know?”
He nodded, and I kept talking, the words flowing out from someplace deep and dark inside me that I had thought I’d forgotten.
“I had this neighbor growing up, Mrs. Magney. She was older and lived alone so I would help her out sometimes. Mow the lawn. Get her groceries, that sort of thing. She had this old upright piano, a lot like this one,” I ran my hand over the keys, “and one day she caught me playing on it. I thought she’d be so mad at me, but instead she sat down next to me. And then she started to teach me.”
The memories rushed over me. I would always remember the noise. The chaos. Dirty clothes and old food containers scattered all over the tiny, run down apartment. My mother, shouting, her words slurred from the booze, or the drugs, or bo
th.
I remembered the men that would come home with her sometimes. When I was younger, she would just put me down for a nap but as I grew older, that’s when I would have to leave. That’s when I first met Mrs. Magney. I think she must have known what my mother was doing because she never once turned me away.
“That’s how I first learned how to play.” The memories were bittersweet now, an old ache. “I could keep it between us, if you want. Maybe on your break.”
“I’ll…I’ll think about it. If my dad finds out…” Owen trailed off, leaving the rest of the words unspoken but the flash of fear in his eyes said more than enough.
“Of course, just let me know. I’d be happy to.” I meant it. This kid was obviously going through something hard at home, and it reminded me too much of my own childhood. I knew how it felt, to live in that chaos, in that fear. And I knew how much one person’s kindness could mean, how it could change an entire life.
“Well, I better get back to work before Mr. Gallagher kills me,” Owen said it with a smile, none of the fear that was there when he spoke of his father. “You really are amazing.”
“Thanks, Owen.”
I looked back down at the piano as he left, my fingers already moving once more, the music stirring back to life inside me. Finally free.
14
Jake
I couldn’t stop looking at her. I knew it was stupid. I knew it was damn ridiculous. But I couldn’t keep my eyes off of Zoe. I glanced down at the steel nail and hammer in my hands, trying to focus on the split railing on Josie’s stall on I was fixing. Well, trying to fix. I probably could have had the entire god damn thing done a half hour ago if I could just keep my eyes on my work instead of the delicious woman working just a few feet away from me.
She was brushing down Minnie, talking to the horse, cooing at her as she swept the bristle brush across her mane.
I was captivated by the sight of her. She was so small next to the horse, so much smaller than me or the animal she was standing next to. Her long black hair was pulled up into a ponytail at the back of her head and left to trail down in a long inky wave.
Her green eyes were right and shining in the dim interior of the stable and even through the smell of straw in the air, I caught her sensual, floral, feminine scent. And it was driving me completely insane.
Every breath I drew, she was there, refusing to let me go, refusing to let me focus. Drawing me back to her.
I could hear the husky, sexy sound of her voice, pitched low to sooth the horse. It had the opposite effect on me. Because I knew exactly what she sounded like when was was gasping, moaning, crying out my name. Begging me for more.
I squeezed my eyes shut tight against the images that the thoughts conjured. Images that had no place taking over my mind, my body. All the blood rushed straight to my cock as I remembered how beautiful she was, naked and spread out just for me.
This was torture. Pure torture. And I wasn’t sure how much longer I could take it before something broke.
“I’m kind of worried about Owen.”
Her sudden voice in my ear surprised the hell out of me and the hammer slipped, landing directly on my thumb.
“Ouch! Damn it.” I shook off the feeling as the digit started to throb from the contact while I looked over at Zoe. I had to work to banish the images of her that were still dancing through my mind. Naked Zoe. Wanton, sex-crazed Zoe. “Why’s that?” I finally managed to get out and I hoped that she wouldn’t notice the way my voice had dropped, the husky tone that edged the words.
“Just some things he said.” She answered with a shrug, still brushing the horse. I wanted her to stop, to stride over to me and strip off her shirt. I wanted her to to want me just as desperately as I wanted her.
“Oh yeah?”
“The way he talked about his father,” her hand paused, the bristle brush hovering in the air too long and Minnie gave an impatient Winnie, prodding her back into her rhythmic motion. “He was afraid of his father, Jake. I could see it in his eyes. I know what that’s like. To have an alcoholic parent. I’m just…worried about him.”
Her words jostled me out of the red haze of lust for a moment. It was the shock of it. The first personal thing she’d ever really revealed about herself and it made my heart stop and then start painfully all over again.
“I didn’t realize.” I said slowly, not sure what else to say. “Owen’s dad Bruce, I know him from town. He was a few years older than me in school so we never hung out with the same crowd but I know of him. I’ve heard the stories. I know he can be decent enough, and he can be a mean son of a bitch when he drinks. He hangs out at the Solace bar, with a buddy of mine, Dominic.”
Another man who turned to the bottle when life had gotten tough, not that I blamed him really. Dominic had been handed more than his fair share of shit in the last couple of years.
“I know Owen’s been going through some hard times at home.”
“Can you talk to his dad? Bruce?” Zoe asked, and the faith she had for me, shining in her forest green eyes, was almost enough to bring to my knees. “Maybe let him know how his behavior is affecting his son.”
I wanted to. Damn it, in that moment, I wanted to do everything she asked of me and more. Because I’d never had anyone look at me like that before. Like I could take on the world.
“It wouldn’t help.” I finally said reluctantly, “and it might backfire. The last thing I want is for him to take it out on Owen.”
Zoe nodded, that look fading a bit but it was still there. That belief in me. And it made me feel invincible.
“I’ve given Owen some extra shifts around the ranch and once he’s out of school I’m going to see if he’d like to come stay here. Get him out of his house for a few months at least. If that’s alright with you.” I added hastily, remembering that I wasn’t the only one in the big rambling farmhouse for once.
“I…Yes, yes that’s alright. That’s more than alright. I think he needs it, honestly.” She drew in a deep, shaky breath, “No one should have to live in fear like that. Especially not a kid.”
It hit me then, like a punch to the gut. I could fall for this woman. Not just because she was gorgeous and crazy smart and knew how to organize the bookkeeping, which I would have loved her for that alone, but because of the way she cared. Even when it was hard, even when it was obvious she’d gone through terrible things, she still cared.
She cared for Josie, the grumpy old nag, who had started to nuzzle and whinny in joy whenever Zoe came near. The damned horse still tried to take a bite out of me whenever she could.
Zoe cared about Westley, enough to learn more sign language and now they spoke with their hands so rapidly I couldn’t keep up, even though I was trying. I’d heard the man laugh, rusty and unused, for the first time in as long as I’d known him, because of her.
My feet moved, carrying me towards her, the nails and hammer sliding from my hands because they only had room for her.
Zoe gasped in surprise as I suddenly stopped in front of her and I let out a sign of relief that the fear that had filled her eyes the last time I had surprised her in this barn was absent. The only thing I could see was a green so pure it took my breath away and the same mix of lust and need that swirled within me.
“Jake, I…”
“Don’t.” I whispered harshly, my lips a hairsbreadth from hers. I could feel the warm panting inhales and exhales against my skin, teasing me. “Don’t say a damn thing. You’ve been over here. Teasing me. Driving me insane. All I can think about is getting inside you. I need you, Zoe. I need you now. Hard and fast. I need you crying out my name as I take you.”
I slid my arms around her, waiting for her to tense, waiting for her to tell me no, that anyone could walk in on us, that I was getting in way over my head with her. But she didn’t do any of those things.
She just melted again me, like chocolate on a warm summer afternoon, just as sweet, just as delectable.
“Tell me you want me, Zoe,”
I rasped the words against the soft skin of her neck, loving the way she shivered like a leaf against me, “Tell me you need me.”
I needed to hear the words. They were crucial, somehow. I held my breath as she stilled, and pulled back until she was staring up into my eyes and I could see the truth in them before she even said the words.
“I need you, Jake.” Her voice was husky and filled with so much desire that it made made all the blood rush to my cock and I was instantly hard. Not that it took much at all when it came to Zoe. “I need you now.”
We met together in a rush of skin sliding against skin. But it wasn’t enough. I needed to feel more of her, as much as I could. I was greedy for every inch of skin I could get my hands on.
My fingers worked their way underneath her shirt, dragging the top and her bra along with it. I needed her so badly that I was trembling, all seduction gone in the heat of the desire burning through my body.
My cock was so hard and stiff that it was painful, an ache that could only be soothed by her and her alone.
Suddenly, she reached down, just as greedy as I was, tore the button of my jeans and reached her hand inside, wrapping her fingers around me. My eyes crossed at the pleasure that coursed through me.
“Jesus, Zoe! You’re going to kill me.”
“At least you’ll die happy,” She said on a husky laugh that drove me even wilder.
With a curse, I backed her up against the large timber pole in the middle of the barn, wasting no time to get her own jeans unbuttoned, unzipped, and pushed down to her knees.
I couldn’t wait any longer. I hadn’t exaggerated one ounce. I really did need her now. Right now. I felt like I die, burn to a cinder right then and there if I didn’t get inside her.
I pulled her around, wrapping her arms around the pole with one hand and grasping her hip in the other as I pulled her delectable ass against me.
