Page 64 of Ruined Wolfsbane

Bastian ambles toward me, and I take in his shirtless chest and gray sweatpants slung low on his hips. My eyes linger on the tantalizing V that dips below his waistband until he stops in front of me. I snap my gaze to his and see his self-satisfied smile. He definitely caught me checking him out. I mean, anyone would when he’s dressed like that.

“How long have you been playing?”

There goes my horniness. Thoughts of my mom instantly extinguish any attraction I was feeling.

“Since high school.” My mom loved to play piano. She wanted to teach me, but I was always too busy. I thought I’d have so many more years with her to learn.

It’s funny how you always think you’ll have more time. Then, one day, without warning, your time’s suddenly up. I wish with everything I am that I could go back and take my mom up on her offer to teach me.

But I can’t.

I learned piano on my own as an escape. Patrick started beating me as soon as my mom was in the ground. To avoid spending time with him and feel closer to my mom, I learned how to play from internet tutorials. The school let me use the music room until they had to close for the night.

I’ll never be as good as she was, but I’m decent at playing contemporary pieces.

“You’re really good at it.”

I snort because that’s a lie. I’m okay but not great. “Sure,” I say, drawing the word out in disbelief.

“You are,” Bastian insists. “Will you play me something else?”

I open my mouth to refuse, but Bastian gives me puppy dog eyes. I can’t say no. I glare at him for playing dirty. He just grins in return.

Wracking my brain, I try to think of upbeat songs I can play. It feels too personal to play him my sad songs. Surely, I have something happy in my repertoire. I can’t think of anything other than “Trauma,” which isn’t exactly an uplifting song.

After thinking on it and coming up with nothing, I start playing it.

“Will you sing, too?” Bastian asks after I play for a bit without singing. “I really like your singing.”

My brows rise at his request. He’s already heard me sing and wants to subject himself to more of it? Whatever floats his boat, I guess. “It’s your eardrums on the line but sure.”

Bastian chuckles like I’m joking.

I’m not.

Closing my eyes, I pretend I don’t have an audience and start over. It’s nerve-racking playing in front of anyone, not to mention singing. Blocking him out, I lose myself to the music. Swaying from side to side, I let the song flow out of me.

When I finish, I slowly open my eyes. I see Bastian with a death grip on the piano. His head is bowed, and his knuckles are white from how hard he’s gripping the instrument. The muscles in his shoulders strain from his hold.

He eventually looks up at me with raw pain etched into every line of his face. It’s the type of pain that tries it’s hardest to swallow you whole. The type of pain that you have to fight against every day to keep going. The type of pain that never gives you a moment’s peace.

His pain calls to mine. I desperately want to soothe his anguish. How can I when I barely keep my head above water most days?

I can’t.

But I won’t turn away because it’s hard to see. I’ll look at him, all of him. I can also be here to hold him together if he shatters.

He doesn’t break. Instead, he croaks, “What’s the name of that song?”

“‘Trauma’ by NF,” I breathe, my voice scarcely audible. Talking loudly feels like it would break whatever moment we’re having.

I don’t want Bastian to retreat again. I know what it does to a person to hold all their pain inside. It twists you up and steals the color from the world until everything is bleak and gray. I don’t want that for Bastian.

He nods and swallows convulsively. After glancing back down at the piano, he fixes his forest green eyes back on me. “I like it.”

“I thought you might.”

“Is any of their other stuff good?” Bastian asks after a pause.

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