Page 78 of Wicked Ends
“Though next time, I’ll have to make sure you have a muumuu to wear around those guys, and anyone else,” he mused, reaching out to grab the guitar by the neck.
“I couldn’t find my clothes,” I reminded him.
He smirked tiredly. “Right, I burned them.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Couldn’t have you leaving without me.”
He held the guitar with the ease of someone who was used to it, and it reminded me of the showcase when I’d first heard him play.
He sat on the edge of the bed, and I nodded toward the guitar still in his hands.
“Play something for me,” I asked softly.
He tilted his head at me. “Is that a request or a homework assignment?”
“A request.”
His fingers moved easily up the neck of the guitar, covering the frets. A beat of silence sounded, and then he started to play.
The room instantly stilled. Marcus’s strong hands, made for gripping his goalie stick, were now coaxing a melody from old strings like he’d been born doing it. Even his usual cocky grin faded, replaced by something quieter—focused, and as lost in the music as I felt. He didn’t look like the guy who was stalking me with relentless determination or jumped in front of oncoming pucks. He resembled someone else entirely. Someone deeper.
It was a sad melody, full of longing. Music, like always, moved me. I couldn’t turn away. There was something jarring and magnetic about it—the way his broad shoulders hunched protectively around the guitar, the way his jaw tightened slightly on the harder chords, the way he didn’t seem to care if anyone was watching. It felt intimate somehow. And the colors… they burst before my eyes, dancing to the tune, sinking into my soul.
I brushed a tear from my eye and faced away from Marcus. The last note hung in the air for a shining moment, then faded.
“Well, do I make the grade?”
I nodded, collecting myself, and spun back to meet his eyes. “A-plus. It was beautiful… beautiful and silver, like the light on water, the shimmer above the waves. That was your song, to me.”
The emotion in his eyes wasn’t easy to take. It made my heart beat too damn fast. No one had ever looked at me like he was now. I didn’t know what to do with it.
He stood and placed the guitar back on the stand, then came over to where I sat.
I fidgeted in my chair, self-conscious of my near nakedness while he was fully dressed. I tugged the hem of his hockey jersey over my thighs.
“I guess I should go, if you’d give me some clothes to borrow,” I started.
“Have you been outside yet?” Marcus asked, still looming over me.
I shook my head. Standing up in the jersey felt too exposed, so I stayed put.
“There’s nothing around here except a four-mile-long dirt track, forest, and a pretty little cliff overlooking the bay.”
“Okay, so, how am I getting home?”
For the first time today, his mouth pulled into its usual easy grin. “That’s what I’m wondering.”
“Marcus,” I started, standing and stepping away from him.
“Call me Mr. Bailey, Ari, it really does it for me… though, honestly, everything about you really does it for me.”
He took a step closer, and a thrill of heat ran down my spine.
I edged toward the open door of his room.
“I need to go back to the motel…”
