Page 21 of The Game
Taking her violin downstairs, she made her way to the front sitting room, where the morning light streamed through the window. Choosing a chair in the sun and feeling the warmth of it seep into her bones, she opened her case and pulled out the instrument. At first touch, the wood was cool, but as she moved into position and tucked the violin beneath her chin, it absorbed the heat of her hands and became an extension of her body. She lifted her bow and touched it to the strings.
Even from the first note, the music she played came from her very soul, and she quickly transcended to that familiar otherworldly place.
She composed her own piece, needing to make sense of her feelings through song. Closing her eyes, she poured everything into it, her bow dancing lightly over the strings as memories of the fun she’d had with Dean flashed through her mind.
Her thoughts morphed into something else entirely, and her strokes became longer, more fluid, her music soothing and healing. It spoke of how Dean had unknowingly saved her, had pulled her from the depths of despair and, in doing so, had probably kept her healthier much longer than she would have remained otherwise.
Soon, her movements became more erratic, the notes she played short but powerful—all the pain she’d caused Dean, all the pain now tearing at her heart expressed in the music. Finally, once she’d purged her demons, she let her bow caress the strings, every note long and clear. This was her song of yearning. Her song of sorrow and regret. Her song of love.
After playing one last final note, she lifted her bow. Slowly, she came back to the room and opened her eyes. Her lashes were wet with tears, her chest heaved with every breath she took, and her heart pounded with the clarity her song had given her.
She wasin love. With Dean!
Fate had sent him to her that day, she was sure of it, and although she’d only been hoping for a distraction, she’d been given so much more. He’d been a friend, a lover, her source of happiness and strength.
Sheneededhim. Shewantedhim.
And though she’d screwed things up, maybe she could still have him.
She stood, ready to go to him, but as she placed her violin in its case with an urgency that had her shaking, she froze. In a matter of days, she’d begin chemotherapy. Could she really confess to Dean how she felt when she had no idea what her future would hold? Was it fair to put him in that position? The last thing she wanted was to tie him to her, either as a friend or something more, just as her health was set to deteriorate. He didn’t deserve to watch her suffer.
But with that thought her hesitation faltered. She’d already kept a secret from him, a secret so huge it had driven a wedge between them. She’d lied to him, removing herself from his life because she’d thought she’d known what was best for him. But she had no right to make decisions for him, and he deserved to know the truth about how she felt.
How would he react, though, when she told him she was in love with him? He’d told her he didn’t do love, didn’t do commitment. Would he reject her? Even if he was strong enough to bear the burden of her illness, would he still walk away from their friendship when she complicated it by admitting she loved him? Watching him walk away the other day had nearly ended her.
But … it suddenly dawned on her … he’d been there to walk away in the first place. Why had he shown up at her parents’ front door that morning when he’d thought she was heading back to Sydney?
I tried calling early this morning. I need to talk to her. It’s important.
His words had drifted to her as she’d lain in her half-dazed state, though she’d been more concerned about her inability to move and, at the time, hadn’t properly processed their meaning. He’d had something important to tell her that day, but the news of her illness and the admission of her lies had overshadowed all else. And he’d left without revealing the reason for his visit.
Could it be that he’d come to ask her to stay?
Did he want something more from her than a casual arrangement?
Had he fallen for her?
Movement on the street caught her eye, and she lifted her gaze to get a better view.
Dean was crossing the front yard!
Her heart leapt, and she surged closer to the window. He was here, as if her thoughts had summoned him! He’d arrived on foot, and it was clear he’d just been for a run; he was dressed in workout gear and damp tendrils of hair hung over his forehead.
Too eager to see him, she raced to the front door and yanked it open. He stood at the base of the steps, one leg bent mid-climb, brows raised, and lips parted slightly in surprise. After a moment, he relaxed his posture, transferring his weight to his back leg.
‘Hi,’ he said, his tone hesitant.
Alyssa offered a smile. ‘Hi, yourself.’
Though she saw none of the anger she’d witnessed the last time they’d seen each other, he did seem cautious, as if he thought she might charge forward at any moment and do him harm.
His gaze flicked over her. ‘You look … better.’
Tugging on her plain white T-shirt, which she wore over black leggings, she could only be glad that, after four days of barely being able to open her eyes, today she’d managed to shower and wash her hair.
‘I feel better.’ When he didn’t say anything, she chewed the inside of her cheek, feeling suddenly nervous. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’
He searched her face, as if he were looking for something that contradicted her words. Finally, he nodded, then frowned as he swallowed. ‘Can we talk?’
