Page 57 of Wicked Ends
“I showed you mine… now show me yours.”
I turned to him, bringing my face close to his. Thank God the open lid of the grand piano hid us both from view. His eyes were clear hazel this close, gold and green in places. But even more mesmerizing than his beautiful eyes was the look in them.
I took a deep breath, the stiffness in my fingers receding as Marcus did what he did best. Distracted me.
“You don’t need to be scared of anything, birthday girl, not when I’m here.”
He straightened up and stepped back. I took a deep breath, and the tremble in my fingers vanished. I raised them over the keys. A deeper memory surfaced… all the long hours that I’d spent learning and practicing at the piano, all the happy times.
I studied the music, recognizing the classical piece immediately. I didn’t need the sheet music. I closed my eyes and began. I lost track of time while I played, my fingers flying over the keys, the stiffness in the joints seeming to fade away. For amoment, I forgot. I forgot what had happened in California and the desperate drive across the country. I forgot the fear and pain and certainty that if I didn’t do something, someone would die. Colors swirled around my head, bright and exciting. Yellows and reds, the music thrilling, and performing for the first time in so long in front of others was only sending my heightened senses higher and higher.
The last note was fading from the air when the applause hit. It was thunderous. I opened my eyes, just a crack at first, then turned my head slightly to the side and saw her.
My ghost, my grandmother, sitting to the side, cheering me on.
Blinking, I stood and nearly stumbled, emotion making me clumsy. A strong hand cupped my elbow and stilled me. Marcus.
I smiled tightly at him, aware of all eyes on us. I went to pass him by to return to my seat and heard his soft murmur.
“Incredible—just like you.”
The Hellions’ stadium was state of the art. I’d heard that Soren Anderson, whose son was on the hockey team, was a very generous donor. It was certainly better than the places where my grandpa and I watched the small local teams play when I was young.
I was carried through the doors by the crowd. People were excited for the game. The black and green hues of the Hellions far outnumbered the blue and yellow of the away team.
“Hey! Here, take this.” Sally appeared at my side, looping a green-and-white scarf around my neck before threading her arm through mine. “Come on, Kenna saved us some seats.”
I’d tried resisting coming to the game, but it seemed that wasn’t a team player kind of thing to do when you’re trying to fit in at a new job. The faculty went to the Hellion games. It was a given. I’d protested, tried to think up an excuse, but there wasn’t really one except the truth:I’m trying to stay away from one of the players and going is only going to make it harder.Yes, that wasn’t something I was admitting to anyone, not even Kenna.
We moved with the crowd up the stairs, past the concession stands, and into the rink.
“I heard that the showcase was incredible,” Sally said with a grin. “Now I definitely need an autograph.”
“You’re sweet, but I haven’t played in a long time, and it shows.” I flexed my hands, the familiar stiffness flaring in the joints. After the incident, I’d never really played properly again, before I’d left my life behind. Today, I could feel the cost of that in my fingers’ hesitation to follow my commands. Instead of seamless movement, they had dragged. It made me want to cry for everything I’d lost. Out of all of it, losing my ability to play effortlessly and leave the music world behind was the most painful.
“You were great. Everyone is saying so. Now, sit down and let me paint some school colors on you.” Sally rooted around in her bag as we reached our seats and sat with Kenna and Bill.
“Hey.” Bill waved. “You were perfect earlier. I videoed it. My mom loves it. I might have uploaded it to the school’s socialmedia. I hope you don’t mind, but we never have anything good to put on there.”
I was about to object when Sally took my chin in her hand and turned my face toward her.
“Your mom might be my favorite person in the world,” Kenna said to Bill.
“Yeah, well, I think she prefers you to me, as well, so…” Bill laughed.
“Please, we all know she prefersme, like any member of the female sex with half a brain and functioning eyes.” Wade had made his way along the busy stands and sat next to me, at the end of our group.
“You wish, Professor Casanova,” Kenna called.
“Professor Casanova?” I repeated, moving a little too much for Sally’s liking.
“Hold still, I’m working here,” she muttered.
The touch of a cool wet brush hit my cheek.
“This is a few Hellion colors, and the Ice Gods’ numbers.”
“Who are the Ice Gods?”
