Page 17 of Unspoken Words
“You gonna answer my question properly?”
He sighed. “What I was playing was nothing, Ellie. Really. The song isn’t any song at all.”
“Sure it is. There are lyrics and music. That’s a song.”
A gentle breeze blew between us, my red curls reaching out to catch hold of it, his brown-auburn wisps diligently staying put. We stared at each other for what could’ve been seconds or minutes, I wasn’t quite sure, because time didn’t exist as it was supposed to when you were distracted by the smallest of things.
“Dawn. Determined. Dimples. Doomed. That’s what I wrote,” I said, quietly, my eyes fixed to his.
He held my gaze. “It’s a song about Aaron. I sing what I can’t say, remember?”
“Can I hear some of it?”
“Not yet.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
Although I was a little disappointed with his response, I offered him a small smile then directed my gaze to a nearby stick, snatching it up and breaking it into several smaller sticks. To be honest, I was surprised he’d even told me about the song in the first place, because I knew it was a big step for him. I also knew it wasn’t the time to push him any further. He’d share the song with me when he was ready. Somehow, I knew he would.
Laying his guitar against the rock, he lifted one knee and rested his chin upon it. “So why’d you write those words?”
I glanced down at my obnoxiously bright pink notebook and shrugged. “Because I could smell dawn rising around us, feel your determination, see your dimples, and …” I paused, wishing I hadn’t said what I’d just said.Oh crap! I just told him I noticed his dimples.
“And what?”
My cheeks flamed. “I … I don’t remember.”
I did, but I really didn’t want to explain the last word. I’d written it because, in that moment, seeing his dimples and the determination rolling from him, I knew I was doomed to ever stand a chance when going up against him—and I went up against most people if I felt the need to—but more so doomed that no other boy would ever compare to him. In that moment, I’d felt doomed with a capital D, and I couldn’t exactly tell him why.
My mouth opened, my explanation tethered to the deep confines of my throat. “Um … I—”
“It’s okay.” His smile was soft. Accepting. “Tell me when you’re ready.”
Silence settled around us, and after a moment or two, Connor picked up his guitar and started strumming again. I grabbed my notebook, ready to crawl among the pages and die of embarrassment, when he started singing.
I should’ve said goodbye,
instead of asking why?
And it rips me in two.
Where are you?
My body froze. I couldn’t move, do, or say anything. He seemed so fragile but at the same time so strong, his posture confident, his words raw. The story he was telling me was real and … sad, because, to me, it spoke of guilt he was feeling when he shouldn’t have been feeling it. I mean, I wasn’t a ‘grief guru’ or anything, but I knew it wasn’t his fault that Aaron died, and I didn’t want him to think it was.
That wasn’t right, and it definitely wasn’t fair.
Wanting desperately to stop him blaming himself, I battled within, undecided whether I should interrupt and beg him not to feel that way or to just sit and listen to his story, to his unspoken words and how they filled the space around us. How they held hostage my ability to move, and how, for the second time in days, Connor Bourke stole my air.
Chapter Six
Connor
Ididn’t know why Ifelt the need to sing to Ellie and tell her everything I’d been feeling about Aaron’s death. But I had, and it was terrifying.
My gut churned, and I thought I was gonna puke all over myself and her but, thankfully, I didn’t. I guess that by singing, I was trying to send her a message that she could let her guard down and trust me enough to share what was in her notebook, and that I wouldn’t judge her for it. I found her notebook interesting. I found Ellie interesting. She somehow made me forget, but at the same time made me remember without my memories crushing me. I didn’t know how she managed it, but she did.
So … I sang. I sang what I’d been singing on and off for months and what I knew she wanted to hear, and after a while, it wasn’t nearly as scary or as hard as I thought it would be.
