RUSH (City Lights, #3)(36)
“I told you. I’m taking a break. And if I did audition and got in, I’d have to break my lease here.” A pause. “I’d have to quit being your assistant.”
“Good.”
“Good?” No mistaking the hurt now; that one syllable was saturated. I felt the air tighten between us.
“Yeah, good, Charlotte. You don’t belong here, cleaning up my shit. You’re wasting your time.”
“Is that a fact?”
I felt a line was drawn and I was dangerously close to crossing it. I didn’t know what was wrong with me; I hardly knew her, but she was meant for something better than this. I’d heard it when she played that first day for me, and every day since. There was nothing wrong with being a cleaner of messes but it wasn’t for her. Especially not if the mess was me.
“Yeah, it’s fact.”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“What’s complicated about it? Do you want to play or not?”
“Yes. I do.”
“Then play.”
“Oh, because it’s just that simple, right?” she snapped at me, her voice like a whip. “You’ve got all the answers. You’re a font of psychological wisdom. Fixing me is so easy. Just get me to an audition and—bam! Problem solved. As if that will help. As if you know anything.”
I tapped my fingers on the counter. “I’m only pointing out the obvious.”
“I’m wasting time? So speaketh the guy who stays holed up in one room, not going anywhere or doing anything, ever.”
I gaped. The idea of this girl having anything in common with me made me sick to my stomach.
“You’re not trying to compare us, are you? I hope to God you’re not thinking that your cute little stage fright is anywhere near the same thing as the wreckage that’s left of my life. Not even the same league.”
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice full and strangely thick. “Stage fright sounds like a pretty good word for both of us.”
“No, Charlotte. I’m done. I’m a cautionary tale. Don’t waste your life waiting for something to come to you. Go out and grab it. Take it. Because you never know when it’s all going to come crashing down.”
“It already did,” she whispered.
Her soft words cut through my harsh, know-it-all tone like a knife through butter, and I froze, my pulse rushing in my ears. “What do you mean?”
“Never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything,” she said, and sniffed.
She was crying. Dammit to hell, I’d made her cry.
“Charlotte…”
“You’re not the only one who’s lost something, okay?”
Here it was. The pain I’d heard echoing behind every word, right here. The depth of it made my heart clench painfully. “Who?” Who did this to you, Charlotte, so I can kick their ass?
“My brother.” I heard her swallow down tears. “He passed away. Last year. He left us and took my music with him. Or it’s lost. I don’t know how or why but…I just can’t find it. So that’s why I don’t audition. Okay?”
I didn’t just cross the line, I tromped all over it. Me and my blundering, stupid mouth. I felt an unseen hand sock me in the gut. I hadn’t expected that answer or any like it. I don’t know why—I was a f*cking idiot, I suppose—but I’d assumed her pain had to do with a blown audition or something less horrible. Some pain I could talk her out of feeling. But her brother…
I thought of my twin sister, Ava, and what I would do if I lost her. I’d evicted her from my life along with everyone else months ago, but she had been the hardest to push away. Impossible, actually, if not for her job that required she live overseas. As kids, Ava and I were every twin cliché in the book, and I couldn’t imagine her gone for good. Like having half my heart cut out.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte.” Shame twisted my gut until I thought I’d be sick. “I don’t know how to talk to people anymore.”
Her voice sounded muffled, as if she were wiping her nose. “Yeah, I noticed. You’re like a walking Internet comment, just spewing whatever pops off the top of your head. You can’t do that with people in real life.”
“Real life,” I snorted. “Is that what I have? Never mind. I’m sorry. For what I said, for ruining breakfast, for making a mess of the damn milk…”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. Not one bit of it is okay.”
“I guess not. But you didn’t know. And most people feel the same way. My family and friends…they don’t get what’s holding me back.”
“What is holding you back?”
“It hurts,” she said simply. “To dig deep for it hurts. I don’t know why I’m like this but I just am, and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t give me a hard time, okay?”
I nodded, wishing mightily I could suck back every stupid word I’d spoken. I climbed carefully out of my seat and oriented myself to the stairs, then let go of the chair, like an astronaut pushing off into the void.
“Noah?”
I stopped. “Yeah?”
“You’re not done.”
“What?”