Page 66 of Audiophile

Petra’s heaving sobs subsideinto shuddering gasps, and then into quiet tears. She looks up at me with red eyes, but the second she opens her mouth, I cut her off. “Don’t apologize. Please. I know you, Petra. This was hard for you, and I’m grateful you let me in.”

Her voice is raspy from crying. “You’ve known me for a week, Reed. Youdon’tknow me.”

I can’t take it personally. She’s pushing me away, trying to get mental space since I won’t give her physical. If I let her pull back too far, she’ll put up more walls to keep me out.

A secret for a secret. She was vulnerable with me, she deserves that much in return. “My tattoo is a coverup. It used to be an interlocking KH. Kinley’s initials,” I confess. Petra grimaces, as if that was the bad part. “She spiked my drink one night and found an unethical tattoo artist to do it. She never wanted me to forget who I belonged to.”

“She what?” Petra gasps, horror written all over her face.

Oh, no. The last thing I wanted to do was make her feel worse.“No, never mind, forget I—”

“You’re not hers.” She reaches for my black-inked forearm to hold it to her cheek, a fierce fire building in her eyes. “You don’t belong to anyone, Reed. She—I don’t have any words for how awful she is.”

She has no idea. Waking up to it, among other things, scarred me for life. When I let Petra sleep in my bed the first time, it was a leap of faith she had no idea I took. I’ve broken all my rules for her.

“I’m serious, Reed. If she gets within the same city limits as you, I will end her.”

Funny, that’s exactly how I feel about Nate Fitz.

“You turned your tattoo into something beautiful,” she says, her tear dripping onto my arm. “You will be seen, loved, and embraced for all you are. You’re shaking off the darkness, Reed. You don’t want me to shut down? I’ve seen you do it, too. But your light is powerful. Its radiance shines on the lackluster world around us and sets it ablaze. I’ve seen it in action. Your dawn will burn the shadows away. I believe it with all my heart.”

I’m going to fall apart if she keeps looking at me like that. “You’re a more poetic writer than I am. I’m jealous.”

“I can’t imagine there’s much to wax poetic about when you’re writing from the point of view of a naughty stepbrother,” she jokes. Her fingers are gentle as they smooth over my skin, transferring heat to the tattoo that leaves me cold with every glance. “Don’t change the subject,tesoro mio. It’s okay to show your scars. I know how much they can hurt.”

I don’t know what thatmeans, but the tender way she says it soothes me. “I know you do. That’s why I told you. Come on, let’s get waffles.”

“Who’s prickly now?” Petra mumbles, but presses her lips to the ink. Her kiss sinks beneath the scratchy surface and spreads, like a balm, across my arm. Her eyes are so open, so kind, as she kisses me tenderly. “Someday, when you might want to share the whole story, I’ll be here to listen.”

We’re both raw as we dress in relative quiet, but I don’t let her get too far away. I graze her arm, her back, nudging her shoulder with mine as we brush our teeth and she wrangles her hair into a bun. When she’s ready to go, I give her a quiet, lingering kiss. “Petra? Tell me you’ll come back tonight. I want you here. No strings attached, no expectations.”

She hesitates, biting her lip. “I’m going to hold you to that ‘no expectations’ thing.”

It stings that she doesn’t trust me. “I wouldn’t pressure you, especially now. I won’t cross your boundary, no matter how good we’d be together—and we would be phenomenal.” I tuck away a stray bit of curl that has already slipped loose over her ear. She’s still gorgeous this way, quiet and reserved. “I want to kiss you and laugh with you. I like who I am with you.”

“Me too,” she admits. When I reach out my hand, she takes it, and we head out to the car still linked together. It takes coaxing and a stack of waffles, but eventually we shake off the gloom and get back to a steady place. “You know, you could narrate books. If you’re keeping a running list of new career paths.”

“I’d narrate yours,” I offer. She looks up, and her eyes mist again when she understands I’m serious. “When you’re ready to share, I’d love to read it.”

When I drop her off in front of the grocery store, I’m not ready to let her go. “I’ll pick you up at six, and I’ll take you out unless you’d rather eat in. I can cook anything in the frozen section that requires being heated up in a pan.”

She laughs, and it’s beautiful to see some of her radiance come back. “Let’s go out, my treat,” she says. “You’ve already extended your stay by a week. I don’t know where all your hotel money comes from, but apparently my twelve dollars a month does a lot for you.”

“Some people patronize my higher tiers, you’re just cheap,” I tease with a wink.

“Reed!” she scolds, but she’s laughing again, and it’s worth it. “For that, dinner is on you.”

“I don’t mind that at all.” Our lips meet in a final kiss that I wish could last for hours. “See you soon, Pet.”

“Can’t wait.”

It’s hard to drive away without knowing I’ve fixed it. Not that there’s anything to fix. What happened was a long time ago, though her grief is still palpable. I’m reeling over her past, and I don’t even understand it. The closest I’ve gotten to a pregnant woman is Amanda.

I turned my phone off so it wouldn’t be a nuisance during dinner with Petra’s family, so the barrage of notifications as it boots up is overwhelming. There are hundreds of social media comments and messages, emails, and dozens of voicemails from my least favorite person. I can’t deal with the enormity of it right now, and I don’t try to. I clear them all and tap Amanda’s name.

“Ree-ree,” she answers. “How did meeting the mystery girl’s mom go? You never told me her name. She’s the girl from your story yesterday, right? She’s pretty. Not exactly who I was expecting you to go for, but—”

I’m going to get the full sister treatment if I let her gain momentum, and I head her off with the question that’s really bothering me. “How far along is twenty-five weeks? I mean, mathematically it’s more than half, but you used to do all those fruit pictures. What fruit is that?”

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