Player(84)

I stopped. Turned slowly. Met his hard eyes. “I’d say I can’t believe you did this to me, but I’d be lying. I should have known all along. I should have walked away from you years ago. Maybe from the start. But I thought we were friends. I thought all these years meant something.”

“Yeah, well—you always were a sucker,” he said with disdain. “Do you have any idea how hard it is being the fuckup standing next to you? All I wanted was for you to be honest for one fucking second. Truth is, the whole fucking thing is tedious.”

“That’s what you don’t get and what I should have realized—I can’t turn you into me any easier than you can turn me into you. I thought I was helping you. Joke’s on me.”

“I don’t need your fucking help, man.”

“You and everybody.” I turned to go.

“But that’s what you do, isn’t it? Save the day. Roll in on your white horse. Well, not this time.”

I turned again to level him with a glare. “This is your fault.”

“No, this is your fault.” His smile was smug, superior. “She’s hurt because of what you did, not me. All I did was tell her the truth.”

“You told her your version of the truth, and you did it to hurt me. Honestly, I didn’t realize you had such a fucking crush on me.”

He chuckled. “The bigger they are, the harder they fall. And man, you had a long way to go. I’m not gonna lie, it feels even better than I thought it would.”

My jaw popped, my hands flexing at my sides. “I can’t figure out what the fuck you want besides another black eye. I’d break your nose again, but that just feels redundant.”

Ian pushed off the wall, his face cast in shadow from the streetlights behind him. All I could see was the tip of his nose, the point of his chin, the gleam in his eyes.

“Just enjoying the fruit of my labor.”

“Well, eat your fucking heart out.” I reached for the handle, wrapping my fingers around the cold steel. “Don’t bother showing up at Sway tomorrow night to play.” As his smile fell, mine rose. “Or ever, for that matter.”

“You wouldn’t,” he said flatly.

“I already did. When the guys heard what happened, they were mad at me, sure. But they were furious with you. And Benny…well, he’s Val’s number one fan. I couldn’t get you back in if I tried. Which I won’t.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“You can’t be surprised. Did you really think I’d let you stay in the band after this?”

“I’m not worried about finding another gig, asshole. But to get me kicked out of Sway? That’s too far. Too fucking far.”

“That was all you. Well, and Val. Benny caught her on the way out, and she gave him the gist. He would have kicked me out too, if I hadn’t explained that I love her.”

His face went slack. “You…” A disbelieving laugh. “Oh, Sammy. You’ll never learn.”

“Neither will you.”

I stepped into the hallway, and the heavy door slammed behind me.

I didn’t see him again that night.

I wandered numbly into the pit and packed away my instrument, speaking to no one. The city was silent as I walked to the subway, the clacking of the train unheard, the murmur of voices noiseless. My footfalls on the pavement were marked only by the jolt up my legs, the sound of my key in my lock lost.

It wasn’t until I was seated at my piano that sound returned, the notes of my loss ringing in the room, in my ears, in my heart. And every one was for her.

I loved her, and I couldn’t tell her.

I loved her, and she didn’t know.

I loved her, and I’d lost her forever.





31





Príncipe





Val

I almost didn’t go to dinner at my parents’.

It wasn’t because the week and weekend had been unbearable—though it had been. I’d cried myself to sleep nightly and dragged myself to work an anxious wreck, only to find Sam gone. Some girl sat in his chair, doing her damnedest to upstage him, which was impossible in itself.

It wasn’t because I hadn’t been to the club since my birthday.

And it wasn’t because the temperature in the city had dropped, riding a storm front that had been drizzling rain in thick, lazy sheets for days.

No, it was because I knew walking into that house, I would have questions to answer. It was the precise reason I hadn’t wanted to bring Sam to dinner in the first place. Not that there had been any way to know that we’d burn out like a firework.

Distance hadn’t helped me make any sense of my feelings or the things that had transpired between me and Sam. I tried to pinpoint the moment when things had shifted, if there was one. Tried to put my finger on the event that had taken me from a bet to more.

Because that was one thing I had realized. Sam cared for me, even if he hadn’t at first. I just didn’t know what was a lie and what was real.

That was the most maddening part of it all. Not knowing.

I climbed the stairs and entered the house, greeted by the familiar sounds and smells of home, though they did little to comfort me. With every step, anxiety tightened in my chest.