Page 121 of Triple Pucked
It’s spellbinding.
D’Angelo is a virtuoso.
He is as much a legend on the piano as he is in skates. Watching him play, entrances me. It relaxes me more than anything else, apart from playing hockey with him.
The fact that he’s willing to share this talent with me, when I’ve spent my life wishing that I could learn an instrument, feels like a dream.
But I’m hiding a secret from this man.
I’m fucking up my lesson because I’m distracted by working out how to admit the truth. Yet D’Angelo isn’t scolding me.
He’s serenading me.
Guilt burns through me, doubling me over.
Bile rushes up my throat.
I’m going to hurl.
D’Angelo breaks off playing, looking at me in concern. “What’s wrong? Are you going to be sick?”
Eden immediately drops his book. “Do I need to get a bucket?”
“Stop it,” I grit out.
“Stop what?”
“Stop being so nice to me.”
I close my eyes, taking ragged breaths.
I can hear movement behind me, then smell Robyn’s floral perfume, as she leans over me from behind, stroking my hair.
Why won’t they stop being so bloody kind?
“Do you want an early night?” Robyn sounds concerned like I’m not the bastard who has been keeping a secret from her. “If you’re not feeling well, then I can fetch the med kit or call Mike and?—
“I don’t deserve it,” I burst out, throwing myself backwards off the stool.
Somehow, her kind words and touches burn more than her anger.
My guilt is eating me up.
I open my eyes and scrabble backward.
Robyn is standing frozen in shock next to the piano. D’Angelo is still sitting on the stool. He twists to stare at my retreat in surprise.
Eden is standing now next to the couch. He is watching me with an inscrutable expression.
“Just tell us the truth,” Eden says, simply. “You will feel better.”
I meet his gaze.
“Promise?” I whisper.
“Promise.”
Shaking, I drag the phone out of my pocket, unlocking it and then tossing it like something that has turned rancid across the floor to D’Angelo. My hands feel dirty even for touching it.
