Page 69 of Never Leave, Never Lie

The pharmacist was able to fill the prescription while Ian waited. The bright fluorescent lighting of the drugstore reminded him of the hospital. His chair was too small and the square linoleum tile under his foot lifted up at the corner. He toed it with his boot and pulled out his phone, passing the time by responding to work emails. He’d mostly been able to manage the business remotely, but he felt like he was treading water.

He couldn’t stop or he’d be in over his head.

Ian heardthe piano before the Victorian came into view. Alek was laying on the keys hard. That obstinate prick. Ian grabbed the prescription bag with a crunch and hopped out of the truck.

The music was even louder outside. Haunting and gorgeous. A heavy black thundercloud that rained down anger andsadness and regret. It was music and it was Alek’s. It was the song he played every night after he broke Ian’s heart. Ian would know it anywhere.

Ian raced up the steps, through the door, and into the parlor. Alek sat at the bench, spine straight, silky black hair flung down over his forehead. All ten fingers flew over the keys while his foot pumped the pedals in seamless synchrony. Ian stepped closer. If Alek had caught sight of him, he didn’t show it. Alek’s face was blank, peaceful, his eyes not on his hands, or on the sheet music, but out the window and on the trees.

Ian brushed the tears from his cheeks. Later, he’d be mad that Alek had risked his hands, but even though the music was baleful and mourning, each note burning with ire and shame, the sound of Alek’s music returned filled Ian with a magic sort of joy and hope.

The song came to an end and the peaceful expression faded from Alek’s face.

“It’s only the one song,” Alek said, resting his hands in his lap. “I woke up and it was there. Like a single book in a library was returned to me, but I’m not allowed to see the others yet.”

Ian sat on the bench and pushed a stray tuft of hair back from Alek’s brow. He braced for Alek’s rejection, but it didn’t come.

“It was beautiful, Alek.”

“It wassorry. Every night when I played this song, I was playing it for you.” Alek turned to Ian and hugged him.

Whether it was the music, or the moment, the apology, or that Alek was touching him, talking to him, renewed tears fell down Ian’s face. He dropped salty kisses everywhere he could reach while his hands roved over Alek’s back, clutching him closer, though it still wasn’t close enough.

Ian pulled back and stroked the side of Alek’s face. “I’m sorrytoo. I should have warned you or tried talking to you again.” He sniffed. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Alek looked out the window and back again. “You were right to get me help.”

“What are we going to do about your hands, Alek?”

Alek’s face hardened. “I won’t quit the piano.”

“I know, love, but I don’t think your uncle would want you to destroy your hands to keep your word.” Ian chewed on his lip. “What if you taught me every day? Wouldn’t that count?”

“Perhaps…” It sounded like an answer meant only to appease, like Alek was hardly listening, which might have been true, considering Alek had turned to stone, his eyes fixed on the window.

“Alek?”

Without looking, Alek shushed him, his eyes locked on the forest, or was it the forest?

Ian’s hair stood on end.

Alek rose from the bench and walked around the piano like he was in a trance, drawn to the window by something sinister.

“Alek,” Ian called, following him.

This wasn’t the first time Alek’s attention had been difficult to catch, but it was the first time it happened while Alek was in motion. It was almost like he was sleepwalking, except his eyes were open and alert.

Ian crept up behind Alek and laid a hand to his shoulder. Alek tensed, but didn’t turn.

“Do you hear that?” Alek asked.

Ian’s blood ran cold. The only sound in the room was his pulse pounding in his ears and the tick of the clock on the mantle. “What do you hear?”

In the reflection of Alek’s face in the window, his brows darted together.

“What do you hear?” Ian repeated.

“She’s screaming.”

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