What He Never Knew (What He Doesn't Know, #3)(34)

“I’m not nervous,” she finally said.

I cocked a brow. “Those three words are the most you’ve said since you got here.”

Sarah smiled, letting her shoulders relax a little. “I’m just excited. It reminds me of my recitals when I was younger. I mean, we did shows at Bramlock, but I couldn’t ever get excited about those, because they were always for a grade. You know?” She shrugged. “Today, I just get to play for me.”

“You get to play for you,” I agreed with a nod. “You know, it’s been so long since I was in school, I almost forgot that pressure. Of course, for me, it wasn’t bad — mostly because I didn’t give a shit about anything.”

Sarah smirked.

“But, for you? For someone who cares and wants to excel?” I shook my head. “I can’t even imagine that kind of pressure. And your uncle told me your professor at Bramlock was Wolfgang Edison. He’s a legend, an absolute legend. I mean, his parents even named him Wolfgang,” I added with a laugh. “He was literally born to play. I’m sure that was a lot of added pressure, being taught by him.”

I glanced over at Sarah, and when I did, my smile slid from my face like a runny egg. Her wide, cat-like eyes were doubled in size now, like she’d seen a ghost, and her face was pale and long. She didn’t respond to my assessment, and my stomach sank with the realization that I’d said something wrong, said something to make her nervous when she’d been only excited.

“Sarah?” I reached for her, but she cleared her throat and moved away from the touch. I still had that hand extended toward her when someone else’s hand clapped me on the shoulder.

“Ah, another year come to an end,” Mr. Henderson said, sidling up beside me. “You know, this concert has only gotten better since you’ve been with us, Reese. I was just talking to some parents out on the floor, and they all agree.”

Sarah was staring at the piano on the stage — the one waiting for her — like it was a bomb she knew would detonate at any moment. She wouldn’t look at me, and my stomach sank further as I tore my gaze from her, forcing a smile at her uncle, instead.

Way to fucking go, Reese.

“I’m just thankful to be here,” I said, sliding my hands in the pockets of my slacks.

“Ah, we’re lucky to have you,” Mr. Henderson said. He always looked like he’d just indulged in a glass of wine, his cheeks high and rosy, smile a little too wide as he turned his gaze to his niece. “And we’re extra lucky to have you, Sarah. It’s been so long since I’ve watched you perform…” He shook his head. “How old were you last time? Fifteen?”

Sarah blinked, but otherwise, didn’t acknowledge her uncle’s question.

I cleared my throat, leaning toward Mr. Henderson. “She’s a little nervous. Why don’t we give her some space to get ready, I wanted to go over the program with you one last time, anyway.”

He winked conspiratorially, offering one last break a leg to his niece before we made our way farther backstage. I glanced over my shoulder at Sarah, hoping she was relieved to have us gone, but she didn’t move an inch.

She was still staring at that piano.

I should have been focusing on what Mr. Henderson was saying as we roamed around backstage, should have had my attention fixed on Charlie as she trotted over to us with last-minute changes. But all the while, I listened to them and spoke to them with my mind on an earlier conversation.

I ran through everything I’d said to Sarah, wondering where I’d gone wrong. I wondered if just talking about Bramlock made her uncomfortable, if it reminded her of her injury. Or maybe she missed her professor. I knew I would have seen me as a downgrade from Wolfgang Edison, but it had been Sarah who’d asked her uncle if he could get her lessons with me. She’d been the one to ask for me by name.

Still, something I’d said had rattled her. And I felt the weight of that guilt as her uncle introduced her on stage, bringing the concert to a start. It was too late to do anything about it now. All I could do was hope I hadn’t messed her up too bad, hadn’t shaken her confidence so much that it’d show in her playing. It didn’t stop me from feeling like an ass as I tucked myself behind the stage right curtains, watching the light and shadows play on her face as she took her seat on the bench.

The room applauded politely, and Sarah smiled briefly at them before tilting her head to each side and stretching her wrists out in front of her. She rolled them twice, and when she dropped them to the piano, her eyes caught mine for the briefest second.

That second felt like a lifetime.

I didn’t believe in a god, but if there was one, I was sure he’d touched the hand of time then, holding it still, stretching one second until it felt like hours. I’d also have sworn he’d unveiled my student in that slow stretch of time, that he’d helped her remove a mask I didn’t even realize she was wearing — perhaps, no one did.

Sarah Henderson may have been my student, and she may have been my boss’s niece, and she may have been sixteen years younger than me. None of that changed the fact that she was irrefutably the most beautiful entity to ever grace that stage.

Her long lashes graced her high cheeks as she blinked, eyes watching me from where I stood backstage. Those eyes were dark and deep, like an endless pool of emotion that had yet to be locked down with a word to describe it. Her full lips parted in a breath, her shoulders pulling away from her ears as she relaxed, and I found myself taking a breath with her. As usual, she was dressed modestly, covered from collarbone to ankle in the flowy dress she wore. But for the first time since I’d known her, she wasn’t wearing black or burgundy or navy blue. This dress wasn’t dark at all. It was bright, cheery, a mustard-yellow that painted her like a sun. The contrast of color made it hard not to appreciate the unique umber shade of her skin, the dark freckles that speckled her cheeks — and the crystal that hung from her neck sparkled in the light like a tiny chandelier.