Unconditional
Page 52

But what happens when it all goes so terribly wrong?
I look around the room, this home to so many fights between my parents, so much pain the tears could drown any memory of laughter and joy.
There was joy here, I remind myself. You just have to remember.
As if by some magnetic force, I find myself drawn to the piano in the corner. I sit down at the stool, running my fingertips over the smooth wood of the lid. I close my eyes, imagining my mom is sitting right here beside me, teaching me the keys. Sunshine falling through the open windows, the sound of her laughter on the summer wind.
“Can you play?”
A voice comes in the darkness. My eyes fly open.
Garrett is in the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of briefs. He strolls towards me. “I forgot about that thing, it’s been sitting there so long.” My brain takes a moment to switch back to reality, the past swirling thickly around me like a cape.
“My mother taught me,” I answer, looking down. “Guitar too, years ago.”
“I didn’t know that.” He comes closer, taking a seat beside me on the narrow bench. I catch my breath, feeling the warmth of his body against my side, the press of his na**d skin.
“There’s a lot you don’t know,” I say quietly.
Garrett lifts the lid, revealing the row of keys, the ivory gleaming in the dark. “Let me hear you. I want to see you play.”
“I can’t.” I shake my head quickly. “It’s been years since I even tried.”
“So, it’ll come back to you.” Garrett gives me an encouraging grin. “You were singing in the apartment before, you sounded incredible.”
“The piano’s out of tune.” I try another excuse. “It’s been gathering dust.”
“Just one song,” Garrett says softly. He takes my hand and places it on the keys. “For me?”
I inhale. I don’t want to, part of me is scared about all the history I’ll drag up with each note, but when I look in his eyes, Garrett is waiting, his lips curved in a curious smile.
I’d do anything for him.
“I’m not good,” I warn him. “And I don’t have any music.”
“I don’t mind.” He smiles.
“What do you want to hear?” I try to remember the songs I would play, alone in the house, picking out the keys until I had it right.
“Whatever you want. Something that matters to you,” he adds. “Something with memories.”
I take another breath and close my eyes, pretending that it’s just me here alone in the room. I find the keys, pressing softly to check the position, and then I begin.
It’s a lullaby, one of my mom’s favorite songs, soft and sweet, and now the melody comes back to me, my fingers moving across the keys like I played it only yesterday.
“How long do you wanna be loved?” I sing, “Is forever enough, is forever enough?”
She sang it to me as a kid, soothing me to sleep at night. I can feel her presence so strongly as I play, a hot tear escapes my eye, trickling down my cheek as I play out the notes, my hands sliding along the keyboard.
For a brief moment she’s with me again, right here. Then the final notes drift away, and I remember she’s never coming back.
“That was beautiful,” Garrett says quietly.
I wipe my eyes, suddenly self-conscious. “I told you, I’m out of practice.”
“No, it was perfect,” he insists, reaching to gently wipe my cheek. “You’re amazing.”
My breath stills in my throat. I gaze at him, caught up in the tender look in his eyes. Nobody’s ever looked at me like this before, not even close. I feel that wing-beat flutter again in my chest, hope taking flight.
“Thank you,” he whispers, still gazing into my eyes. “For sharing that with me.”
I glance away. “It was nothing,” I lie, still clinging to the pretense of control. “What about you, can you play?”
Garrett chuckles, the intimate moment broken. “Not unless you count chopsticks,” he says wryly. “My parents weren’t really the music lesson kind.”
“No?” I ask. “What were they like?”
Garrett shrugs. “You know, regular, I guess.”
“I don’t know,” I say slowly. “In fact, I don’t know much about you at all.”
“Except my deepest, darkest secrets, you mean.” Garrett’s tone is light, but I see the flash of pain hidden behind the teasing smile.
“Exactly.” I give him a reassuring look, keeping things casual. “You and me, we’re long on past trauma, short on everyday details.”
Garrett laughs. “So what do you want to know?” He gets up, taking my hand and helping me up from the stool.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Just regular stuff. Who you were before…everything happened. Where did you grow up?” I ask, curious. I want to know everything about him, every tiny detail. “Do you have any siblings? What did you want to be when you were a kid?”
“Asheville,” Garrett answers, turning to straddle the stool, facing me. He leans forward to kiss me lightly between every answer. “One sister, younger. She moved to New York with her husband. And I wanted to be an astronaut.”
“But you joined the army instead?”
He nods. “My dad served, so did my uncle, a bunch of my buddies from high school. It seemed like the right thing to do.”