Page 47 of Audiophile

Petra laces our hands together on my knee, and the electric current running over my skin is no longer scratchy. It hums with a familiar sound—a lullaby. It mixes with her scent—so familiar that the full memory sits just outside my reach. All I have are glimpses of sunlight through trees, bells ringing, and something sweet and hot melting on my tongue. Even so, it warms the last of the chill that Kinley’s calls brought on.

“I’m so sorry,” Petra says. Her woodland eyes reflect the forest, earnest and beautiful. “You’re a kind person, and I can’t imagine what it’s like to have someone betray you that way. Plus,share you?You’re so…you. It’s obvious when you slip on the mask, and I can’t believe after knowing you longer, she didn’t get that.”

“She ignored it.” It’s a reminder I desperately need so I don’t lose myself in Petra. She’s a listener, which means DK already has her more than I ever will. “Kinley preferred him over me. I have too many flaws in real life.”

Petra shakes her head. “We all have flaws—her more than anyone. Our flaws make us unique. Human. You’re a beautiful human.” She reaches for me, tugging my face back to hers. She smooths her thumb over my jaw in a comforting pattern that makes me want to burrow into her. “The pretend version could never live up to the real you. She mistreated you—didn’t deserve you.”

Her words are a balm. Through the entire battle, court, lawyers, and police, no one told me outright that I didn’t deserve it.

“My tattoo is because of her,” I confess, but the rest of the words stick in my throat. They won’t move past the knot of pain. Petra climbs onto my lap, wrapping herself around me. Her warmth is soft and comforting.

“You don’t just deserve dawn,” she murmurs, her thumb stroking my cheek. “You deserve sunny afternoons, with the heat of day warming your skin. You deserve vibrant sunsets that make your heart blaze in their reflection. You deserve hot summer nights under a full moon that makes the world shine silver and keeps any shadows at bay. You’ll get them, Reed.”

I can’t hold her gaze. My fingers tangle in her soft curls, and the light plays and swirls with each curve. “Maybe.”

Petra’s hand catches mine, holding it against her neck. “It will still hurt horribly sometimes, but not constantly.”

There’s a pang in my chest at her words, because she knows my grief. Once again, she and I are mirrors, but I don’t want her to embody the words in her notebook. I want her safe and happy.

“She’s the reason you’re moving?” Petra asks, far too observant. I nod, measuring how much truth to give her, but she doesn’t prod. “That makes sense. It’s hard to live in a place that acts as a cage.”

“Yeah, it is.” I hope she knows that I mean the same for her. She doesn’t say anything else. She lets go of my hand and settles against my chest. She strokes my arms, my back, and I do the same. Kinley’s hands aren’t imprinted on my body anymore. Petra’s are there instead, soothing my old wounds. The last two nights with her have been more effective than any shower.

After a while, Petra climbs off my lap and reaches out her hand as an olive branch. “Want to keep going?”

I nod. There’s a strange tightening in my stomach as we walk, hands intertwined. I prod her with questions until we arrive at the second waterfall, where Petra perches on a nearby rock. Her face is as tranquil as our quiet, smiling moments between midnight and dawn. Once I get the recordings I want, I join her, offering the puppy chow mix from my bag.

“Every time I eat this, I’m going to remember your bathtub,” Petra says.

“That makes me unreasonably happy.”

Petra’s eyes crinkle as she pushes my arm in response, but I’m solid and not going anywhere. “I’ve listened to the recordings so often, but it’s better when it’s real,” she admits. I nod, captivated by her voice in my ear—it beats any recording.

She shies away when I turn on my phone to take a selfie of us, but I’m at peace, and that’s worth documenting. “Come on, Pet. Let me remember Swift River, and one moment of happiness in front of a waterfall. Unless you want me to take a less socially shareable photo of bliss?” I waggle my eyebrows at her until she laughs, bright and full.

“Fine, then.” She settles in against my shoulder, gorgeous and serene. I grin at the photo before I get up to snap more photos of the falls. I quietly sneak one of Petra perched on the rock. She’s a siren with her chestnut hair and the glacier blue water and deep green ferns behind her.

It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful.

I break another rule, and switch to my private account to post them on my story. A simple, temporary banner that will show up again in a year—a reminder of a moment when the bruises I carried began to heal.

A moment where we are both brilliantly alive.

Chapter eighteen

Reed

We make the fullloop hand in hand. Since the clouds keep the sun from shifting noticeably across the sky, it’s later than I expected when we get back in the car. “Should you call your sister and tell her you’re alive?” I ask, turning on the heater.

Her cheeks darken. “I texted her this morning.”

“Maybe I want to say hi, too.”

Petra groans but taps Livi’s name on her screen. “This will be fun.”

Livi answers with a squeal. “Sis, your text wasBS. You don’t answer me until the morning and ‘nothing happened?’ You better give me the low down because I’m betting Reed knows how to get it done! God, the ass on that man—”

“Livi,” Petra interrupts, cheeks pink. “Reed’s here and you’re on speaker.”

---