Fuck. That’s right.“Mac’s only day off is Thursday, so it will probably have to be then…”
Eloise's face brightens. “That’s perfect! My g… my manager has yoga on Thursday starting at 5:30, so we can do a lesson then! If that works for you, that is.”
Her sentence strikes me as odd. Why would her manager’s yoga class have anything to do with her lesson time? I decide it’s best not to pry. “Of course. Thursday it is.”
I resist the urge to step forward and wrap my arms around her lithe frame. I want to touch her again, to feel that delicious electricity, but I’m not sure if I could stop from coming in my pants.Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with me?
Eloise pats the handlebars of her bike with fondness. “Okay, Gloria. Time to head home.”
“You named your bike?” I don’t know why I find that so fucking cute, only that I do.
She gives me a weird look. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”
I just laugh, stepping back out of the way to clear a path for her. “I’m looking forward to our lesson next week, Eloise.”
She smiles, and it’s like the skies open, filling my head with a million beautiful, heart-stopping melodies. I watch her round the corner out of sight, but my gaze lingers on the last spot I saw her long after she’s gone.
Thursday can’t come fast enough.
4
Eloise
I’m halfwayhome when the storm rolls in. One minute, it’s all sunshine and clear skies. The next, the clouds have congregated into an angry dark-gray mass that blocks the sun and paints the horizon with violent streaks of lightning. I tell myself it’s not an omen, that everything is going to be fine. I was careful, and there’s no way I’ll be caught. But then another bolt of lightning reaches down and strikes the pavement where I hadjustbeen, and I wonder.
My thighs scream as I pump the pedals harder than I ever have in my life. My fingers have long since turned white, but I’m not sure if it’s from the chill of the rain or the strength that I’m gripping Gloria’s handlebars.
I have to hurry. Dave will be home at 7.
That thought pushes me on, helping me ignore the pain and pedaling toward the coast when I’m sure my legs will fall off. By the time the gleaming white walls of the mansion come into view, it’s impossible to tell whether it's rain or sweat slicking my band tee to my skin, and my heart thrums loud enough to drown out the thunder rumbling throughout the sky.
Not bothering to stop and catch my breath, I roll Gloria down the old security access path at the back of the property, takingcare not to scrape my skin on any of the overgrown vegetation creeping in from either side of the walkway. I stash my beloved bike behind a particularly large cabbage palm and jog the rest of the way to the mansion, wiping the sweat from my stinging red eyes.
The downpour has slowed to a gentle trickle at this point, and I curse the fickle rains that plague this coastal town.Couldn’t have waited thirty more minutes, could it?
Muttering angrily under my breath, I walk toward the massive oak tree located at the back of the house. An old rope ladder swings idly in the breeze, attached to the tree by one of its upper branches. It’s been decades since it was hung, but I’ve tested it enough to know it will hold my weight.
I double-check my surroundings, and when I’m positive I’m alone, I scale the ladder. When I reach the top, I pull my body onto the oak's limb, using the steady arm as a balance beam as I move closer to the roof jutting out below the second-story windows. When the branch becomes too unstable, I drop down to the tiled roof, cringing at the heavythudmy boots make. Hopefully, Forest thinks it’s a raccoon or something.
Heart hammering, I scurry toward my bedroom window, my hands shaking as I pry my window open and climb inside. It takes every ounce of willpower I have to slide it closed slowly instead of slamming and locking it immediately like my paranoia suggests.
If the thud didn’t alert suspicion, the slamming windowwill, and my guard, Forest, will come check on me. If he does that and sees me like this, he’ll be forced to tell Dave. And then it will all be over. My freedom, my sanity, the last crumbs of hope I’ve managed to cling to all these years. All of it will be for nothing.
Taking a deep breath to calm my racing pulse, I slide the lock closed and step away from the sill, listening intently for the sounds of footfalls on the staircase leading up to my bedroom.
Nothing.
Taking my first full breath since I stepped foot inside the mansion, I close my eyes and allow the melodic song playing in the background to wash over me. The track is a recording of me playing about a year or so ago, and it’s just one of many on the playlist I put together. The playlist is my way of making itseemlike I’m upstairs in my room practicing like a good little prisoner when, in reality, I’m sneaking out to have guitar lessons.
I let out a long sigh as the song crescendos, filling the air and causing goose bumps to rise along my forearms. I’ve listened toClair de Lunethousands of times, but every time I listen to the track, I’m taken back to the first time I played it—only, it’s not a happy memory.
I was only fourteen at the time.Clair de Lunewas my opening song for my first solo concert, and I hated it—hated playing it, listening to it, and thinking about it—but what Iwantedhad ceased to matter years before. I had long since lost the love of the instrument, and I was miserable. Going out onto that stage to roaring applause had felt more like walking barefoot across a mat of broken glass. I played flawlessly, but the success of the moment meant nothing to me. It was the first time I realized how empty my life had become. More than that, I discovered how little I cared. When I hear that song now, I’m reminded of all the things I could have had. Things that were taken from me.
Love, compassion, decency.
I have not experienced those things since the night my mother died. The night my father took her life, and then his own, leaving me alone in this world.
Well, not alone. I still have my manager and godfather, Dave Blasko. Though if I had the choice, I would go without.
