What He Never Knew (What He Doesn't Know, #3)(26)

My eyes welled more with that, and I hated that my emotion was threatening to leak out without permission. I sniffed it back, nodding in understanding as I digested his words. I was more terrified in that moment than I had been the first time I’d been inside his house alone with him, or than I had been with my hand wrapped around my pepper spray on the way up here. Because although he was telling me I was hiding, what he didn’t realize was that he also told me that he saw me, anyway.

And that scared the hell out of me.

“I’m just telling you now,” he said after a moment, his eyes still fixed on mine. “If you want to work with me, you’re going to have to be willing to sit down at that piano and bleed.” He pointed to the empty space next to us, as if the piano were right there, waiting for my decision. “Are you ready to do that?”

My heart squeezed painfully, begging me to say no.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Are you?”

I cleared my throat, nodding more emphatically as I quieted my pleading heart. “Yes, I’m ready. I want to do this. I…” I shook my head. “There is no other option for me, Mr. Walker. The piano is my life, it is an extension of me… even if I have lost a little of that connection.” I hated the truth behind that, my chest tightening with the admission. “I know I have to work, and I’m ready to do whatever it takes to make my dream a reality. Even if it is outrageous. Even if every odd is stacked up against me like a brick wall.” I blew out a long breath that seemed to unwind every ounce of tension around my ribcage. “Whatever it takes, I’m in.”

It wasn’t just for my father, who died before he could see me on that stage in New York City. And it wasn’t just for my mother, who had worked harder than anyone I knew to put me through school, only to watch me drop out a semester before graduation. I owed it to both of them, to my entire family — but more than anything, this was for me.

If I didn’t have the piano, I didn’t have anything at all.

And I wasn’t ready to die.

Reese watched me closely, his eyes flicking back and forth between mine like he was searching for any hint of doubt in that statement. Seemingly happy with not finding any, he nodded. “Good.”

Once his gaze was off me and back on the city, I let out another breath, releasing even more tension, as impossible as that seemed. We were both quiet, shifting until we faced the railing again, and I let my thoughts run wild with everything he’d just said as the silence stretched between us.

“Reese?” I asked after a long while.

“Mmm?”

I swallowed. “You said this is a painful place for you to be… why?”

Reese let out a long breath through his nose, like he suspected the question was coming and was almost disappointed that it actually did.

“I was in love with a married woman,” he answered nonchalantly, like he’d just said it was a nice night out. Then, he sort of laughed. “I still am. And this place reminds me of her, along with about a dozen other things that hurt.”

A thick, sticky knot formed in my throat and I couldn’t swallow it down as I stared at Reese. Maybe it was his hurt still permeating off of him and into me, but there was an icky twist of my stomach when he said he still loved her.

“I’m so sorry, Reese.”

He shrugged. “Don’t be. I’m the idiot who didn’t leave her alone when I should have. She was married, but she wasn’t happy. I thought I could save her,” he said, voice low. “I thought I could make her happier.”

I finally found the will to swallow. “She’s lucky, to be loved like that.”

Reese’s brows pulled inward, and he shook his head. “God, I’m sorry I told you all of that. I shouldn’t have… I brought you here to illustrate a point, not to vent about my own stupid shit.”

“It’s okay, really,” I assured him hurriedly. “I… I know I’m just your student, but I appreciate you sharing with me.” I swallowed when his eyes found mine. “Maybe it will help me share, too. Eventually.”

Reese nodded, but I could see it in his eyes that he was disappointed in himself, or maybe in the fact that he was still hurt by this woman who didn’t return his love. “Thanks for listening.”

“Thanks for bringing me here.”

He nodded again, this time pushing back from the railing. “We should go. It’s late.”

My heart sank at that, but I knew without even looking at my phone that the last three buzzes were likely my uncle checking in on me. I hadn’t come to Pennsylvania looking for friends, but I’d have been lying if I said I didn’t wish I could say at the top of that mountain with Reese a little while longer.

Questions raced through my mind like hamsters on a squeaky wheel as we made our way back down the mountain in the cable car. Reese was quiet, lost in his own thoughts as he gazed out the window, and I watched him in a whole new way. I wanted to know more about him, about the family my aunt had mentioned — the photograph on top of his piano — and more than I cared to admit, about the married woman he loved.

Did she live here? Did he still see her?

And why did I feel so invested in the way he felt about her?

It was almost like a pinch of jealousy that jabbed at my stomach as I watched him, like I was envious of a woman who could bend Reese Walker so out of shape like that. It was ridiculous, I knew, because he was my teacher. He was nearly twice my age. He was a man, and I was a girl, and he was there to help me surpass my injury and fine tune my technique. That was where we existed, in that small realm.