Page 47 of The Wrong Quarterback

And yes, a little afraid Eleanor was going to start haunting us.

CHAPTER 11

CASEY

It had been a long freaking day. I’d known college was going to be hard, but the class load was more than I anticipated.

I was exhausted.

And honestly…a little lonely.

Besides Nat, I hadn’t made any friends. And Gray…well, I didn’t want to think about Gray at the moment.

I was having trouble finding the boy that I’d loved in the man I was supposed to be dating. And maybe he was regretting me, as well. We certainly hadn’t spent enough time together for him to find any redeeming qualities in me.

I stared down at the latest text he’d sent me, that he had a pledge event he was in charge of tonight, and he’d see me tomorrow. Another dinner canceled. Another dinner that I’d eat alone.

Walking down the hall, my bag slung over my shoulder, I was wondering for the first time if maybe I’d made a mistake coming here.

The building was nearly empty, the muffled echo of my footsteps the only sound around me. As I passed by one of the open doors, something caught my eye. A piano. It sat there, black and gleaming under the dull fluorescent lights, almostout of place in the sterile, academic setting of the building. I stopped, my feet freezing in place. Seeing it pulled at me, it made my chest ache in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

For a moment, I stood there, staring at it through the open doorway. The room was empty, quiet. No one would know if I went in.

My hand tightened around the strap of my bag. I hadn’t played in a long time. Not since I’d stopped being able to get through an entire song, and I’d given up on my hand ever cooperating.

For most of my life, playing had been an escape, one of the few things I was better at than everyone else. One of the only things that ever got the attention of Mama. Losing it on top of losing my brother had been…devastating. For weeks I’d thought about killing myself—something I’d never admit to anyone else. It was all I could do to claw myself out of depression.

I hovered for one more second and then stepped inside before I could talk myself out of it. The door clicked softly shut behind me. The sound echoed in the small room, and my heart was pounding in my chest as I approached the piano. Which was dumb. Something that used to be as easy as breathing shouldn’t make me feel that way.

Dropping my bag to the floor, I sat down at the bench, my fingers hovering above the keys. The cool, smooth surface beneath my fingertips felt foreign, yet familiar, like a memory I hadn’t quite forgotten but was afraid to touch. I closed my eyes, drawing in a shaky breath.

I could do this.

My fingers grazed the keys lightly, and the sound that followed was soft, hesitant. It wavered in the air like a fragile whisper, the kind that could break if I wasn’t careful. I let my fingers move, playing a few notes, something simple, something I didn’t have to think about too much.

But then I started to play for real.

The music came slowly at first, hesitant, like it had to find its way back to me. And then it flowed. My hands moved across the keys, and for a few precious moments, I forgot about everything. The ache in my chest, the confusion, the fear—none of it mattered when I played. The sound wrapped around me, filling the empty room, each note pulling me deeper into a place I hadn’t let myself go in so long.

But then it happened.

The familiar pain shot through my hand, sharp and unforgiving. My fingers cramped up, seizing mid-note. I stopped, my heart lurching in my chest as I stared down at my hand, watching it tremble, useless. The room seemed to close in around me, the silence swallowing up the music like it had never existed.

My chest tightened, and before I could stop myself, tears welled up in my eyes. They blurred my vision, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t play. I couldn’t even make it through a single song without my hand betraying me, reminding me of everything I’d lost, everything that was still broken inside me.

I pressed my hand against the keys, the notes clashing in an ugly, jarring sound, and that’s when the tears started falling for real. Silent at first, then shaking, sobs wracking my body as I sat there, helpless. My head dropped forward, my forehead brushing the cold, smooth surface of the piano as I wept.

The grief, the anger, the frustration of everything I’d been holding inside, everything I hadn’t allowed myself to feel—it all spilled out in that moment, crashing over me like a wave I couldn’t fight.

I hated this. I hated that something so small, so stupid, could break me like this. I hated that no matter what I did, I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t fix myself. And no matter how much I wanted to, nothing would ever be the same again.

But what I hated worst of all…was that my inability to play the piano…it reminded me I’d never see Ben again.

PARKER

I stood outside the building, leaning against the wall, scrolling aimlessly through my phone as I waited for Casey. I knew her class was supposed to be done by now, but the minutes kept ticking by and she hadn’t come out. Checking her class schedule again, I made sure I hadn’t messed up where she was supposed to be.

Nope, she’d definitely just finished her freshman writing class.

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