Page 37 of Only the Small Bones
I forgot about my muse, my audience-of-one. Forgot about the voices in my head, and all the tragic stars that aligned to bring me to this moment. I just played. Something I hadn’t done enough of lately. The one thing that would send me as close to heaven as God would allow—given my past sins.
The sorrowful piece escalated near its climax, the long, sustained notes adding intensity and emotional depth. The music became a third being in the room, joining us as something tangible with its own heartbeat. The sound reverberated under my skin and down my arm as I moved to create a vibrato effect. I felt the quiver deep in my bones, and I allowed myself to get lost in the ache both there and in my heart.
I played until I could no longer hear my soul weep beyond the wailing of the music. I played until the pain melted away, until I was lost. I passed the bow over the strings one last time, drawing it out, not wanting to let the last note go.
Everything I thought I’d outran came crashing back into me when I opened my eyes to see hate and betrayal pulsing in Ryan’s angry stare. He didn’t need to speak, didn’t need to utter a single word. His feelings had never been clearer.
I’d gotten to play while he hadn’t. I’d gotten to perfect my craft while he—and so many others like him—had been stolen from theirs. Life wasn’t fair by a long-shot, and I wanted to tell him he didn’t need to waste time and energy hating me for it, because I already carried that burden.
I’ve got it, I wanted to whisper.You can let it go.
The first time he entered this room he’d cried over seeing the violin. I’d made a vow right then never to mention it was the instrument I played. It seemed cruel to do so. But seeing him in here tonight, trying to recapture something he’d so obviously lost… I had to help him. He needed to know he could get it back, that it wasn’t too late. I could teach him.Savehim.
My ribcage felt like it expanded to the point of cracking with every harsh breath I took. I could see it in his eyes, in the pooling of moisture in them. I was losing him. Whatever ground I’d gained, he was taking it back from me, just like he’d taken my once-in-a-blue-moon smiles. He had no idea how much power he had over me.
I reached out a hand to him, not sure what I intended to do with it. Ryan retreated a step, and then another before making a wide arc around me, storming toward the door. He knocked the cello over in the process.
“Please don’t be angry with me,” I said, voice cracking. “My heart can’t take it.”
Ryan came to an abrupt stop as though he might actually care about what I’d said. Or maybe he was at war with his own heart. I refused to think about the reasons why.
Later on, I’d wonder if that was the reason he stayed. The reason for the change in him after that night. Perhaps theremainder of the ice around his heart was melted away by my plea. Maybe he finally understood how sorry I was, and decided he’d had enough of punishing me.
I set the violin down. “Look at me,” I whispered.See me.
His shoulders tensed as though he was fortifying himself for the task. He turned to me, eyes awash with pain and beauty, both equally as stunning and fatal. He looked so young and fragile as he weaved his way through the lineup of instruments to get back to me.
Ryan’s fingers clawed into the fabric of his sweats, but he advanced on me as like he’d dared himself not to stop. We were closer than we’d ever been while awake and eye to eye. So close my breaths were his, and his were mine. Close enough for me to make out the single teardrop clinging to his lashes. It was either touch him or die from wanting.
I held my palms out to him like I would to a frightened animal, letting him know I meant him no harm. His tongue darted out, wetting his full lips, making them glisten. A nervous habit of his.
I brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, halting at his minute backward shift. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I breathed between us, my stomach tightening when his eyes fluttered. He inched forward again.
My fingers moved upward, getting lost in his curls. His breath smelled like caramel and hazelnut, like he’d secretly sampled both my popcorn and coffee when he’d prepared them for me. I wanted to taste him, to slip my tongue past the opening of his parted mouth and explore the flavor of him. I settled for gliding my digits behind his ear, the pads of my fingers caressing the lobe before descending to the column of his neck.
Ryan’s skin warmed, blooming crimson as I trailed past his collarbone to his shoulder where the loose neck of his t-shirt hung.
“Breathe,” I whispered, reminding myself to do the same as the intensity of this moment threatened to overtake me.
Ryan took a step back. The teardrop fell, traveling down his cheek.
He was shaking. I could almost hear the rattling of his bones. His gaze lowered to the erection pushing at my zipper, and then to his own tenting the front of his sweats. I couldn’t deny it another second, not when the proof was staring me in the face. Ryan’s interest went deeper than just a general sense of care, gratitude, or the pursuit of shared comfort. He was attracted to me, and I didn’t know whether to feel happy or regretful about it.
When he lifted his head up again, a wave of sadness filled his eyes.
“I’m sorry. I went too far.” I stepped back, giving him more room when what I really wanted to do was hold him in my arms. “It won’t happen again.” My erection deflated as shame overwhelmed me. I looked around for somewhere to sit, suddenly feeling ill.
Ryan held up a hand this time, stopping me. He took several deep breaths to calm his erratic breathing, then swallowed before closing his eyes and baring his neck to me.
I couldn’t get my brain to function, to figure out what he was asking of me with the gesture. “I don’t know what you want, Ryan.” I sounded helpless. He pressed forward until our toes touched, eyes still screwed shut, neck exposed to me in offering.
He couldn’t mean…Couldhe?
Taking a chance and hoping I didn’t damn us both, I lowered my nose to his shoulder, filling my lungs with his scent. Traveling to the fluttering vein at his throat, I collected more of him, then ascended the same pathway of skin, repeating the process until his low whine stopped me.
We separated again, and this time instead of tears cresting his eyes, sweat shone along his brow.
I’d had plenty of sex in my lifetime. Empty, meaningless sex. Never had I experienced the level of intimacy I’d just shared with Ryan, and we hadn’t even kissed. We were afraid, broken, and trying to work our way through both. I felt even less alone than I did when he showed me his scars, and I hoped he wasn’t about to take that feeling away from me. All it would’ve taken was a regretful or hostile glare before leaving me there without a backward glance.
