“Did you ever try to make a go of it?” he asks. I frown and he clarifies, “When you moved out here. Did you try to pursue music?”
“Oh, no.” I wave him off. “That was never my dream, and never in the cards for me. I love playing, but just for fun. I don’t want to be famous, and I certainly don’t have the talent to write my own music. But I still like performing, so Kevin giving me the opportunity to do so at work sometimes scratches that itch.”
“So really that first day I saw you, you didn’t perform just to get my attention?”
I laugh and look down at the guitar in my hands. “You’re not that special, Reid.”
“Tell that to my millions of fans.” He smirks, and seeing that glint of playfulness on his usual stony facade pulls at something in my stomach.
“What was it like? Performing for thousands of people, all singing your words back to you?”
Nostalgia coats his face as he says, “It was the greatest feeling in the world. I don’t even know what I could compare it to. It was a better high than sex or any drugs you can imagine, more satisfying than any craving. More fulfilling than any goal you can set. It truly isn’t like anything I’ll ever experience again.” Sadness and bitterness swirl in his tone despite the dreamy look on his face.
“You really think you’ll never perform again?”
He looks at the guitar and shrugs, but doesn’t answer the question. There’s gotta still be some semblance of hope in him that he will one day with the way he talks about his music, despite the issues he’s had with his friends.
What I wouldn’t give to have the opportunity to see him onstage, in his element, to see himhappy.
I can see the walls coming back up within him, so I pivot the conversation. “Why’d you leave it for me? I know how much you loved this thing.” It’s a question I’ve always wanted to ask him but never thought I’d get the chance.
He swallows thickly. “I didn’t want to take any part of that place with me. And I always felt bad that you didn’t have things of your own. You seemed to take a liking to it, so I didn’t want to leave and on top of that, take that away from you, too.”
I silently hand him the guitar, the neck worn and cool against my palm. “Here, it’s always been yours. You should have it back.”
He holds it for a moment, staring down at it so intensely it could turn to ash. But then he extends it back to me. “No, it’s yours. I wanted you to have it ten years ago, and I want you to have it now.”
“Are you sure? I know how special it was to you.”
“It was,” he whispers. “But I have other things I value more than it now.” His eyes flick to mine and a lick of heat goes down my spine at the look in them.
The air in the room grows thin and my chest rises and falls heavier than a moment ago. Reid’s attention dips to the movement, and I feel his eyes trace the contours of my chest through my shirt.
“Well we’ve both come a long way since this was the only possession either of us had to our name,” I say breathlessly. Ten years, thousands of miles, and a lifetime of experiences, and we’ve both found our way back to each other.
We made it out.
And here we are.
“We certainly have, Penny.” He takes a step closer, so close our chests almost brush each other. I crane my neckup in anticipation. His lips are mere inches away from mine, and I can practically taste him already.
It hits me how badly I want him to kiss me right now. How ready I am for it. How desperate I am to know what he tastes like. And when he leans forward, I match his movement. Just a little closer…
He reaches around and places the guitar back on its stand before straightening. It takes me a moment to realize that my chest is still popped out, I’m still leaned forward, waiting for something that’s not going to happen. Embarrassment heats my cheeks and I duck my head.
Reid clears his throat and brushes his hands down the front of his shirt. “I should get going, it’s been a long day for us both.”
“Yeah,” I say, brushing my hair back behind my ears. “It has been. Thanks for the ride, as usual. I’ll uh, I’ll walk you out.”
He holds up a hand as he heads toward the door. “Don’t worry about it. I remember the way.” He gives me a small smile that does little to settle the unease coursing through me.
Maybe I completely misread the situation. I got all caught up in old feelings and emotions, thinking about our past and how we got here in the present. It’s ridiculous of me to even think that that’s where he was going with things.
He’s seven years older than me and a goddamn rockstar. He can have anyone he wants.
And he definitely doesn’t want his old foster sister.
I need to get a grip.
