What He Never Knew (What He Doesn't Know, #3)(57)

But it was real.

The butterflies I felt around Reese, the way my heart sped up when he was near, the way I finally wanted to be touched by someone — no, not by just anyone, but by him — it was all proof that it was out there. Love. Respect. Desire.

Hope.

Reese had given me my dream kiss, a kiss I’d dreamed about, one I wasn’t sure could ever be reality.

And I’d run away from him.

All because I couldn’t shake my wolf.

Mom sighed on the other end after a moment. “Ah,” she said. “You can’t tell me, can you?”

I sniffed again, wiping at my nose with the sleeve of my hoodie. “It’s complicated.”

“Most things in life are,” she said.

She paused after that, and I wondered why I’d even called. How could I expect her to comfort me, to help me, if I couldn’t even open up to her?

“Can you tell me anything?” she asked. “Doesn’t have to be specifics. But, maybe we can just talk about how you’re feeling.”

I blew out a breath, nodding even though she couldn’t see me. I wanted to try, but I didn’t know where to start.

“I feel embarrassed,” I said first. “And ashamed. I feel… damaged. And hardened. And just… sad. So, so sad, Manman.”

“That breaks your mother’s heart,” she whispered, her voice breaking like she, too, was crying.

I squeezed my eyes closed, shaking my head against another flood of tears. I hated that I was hurting her, hurting my aunt and uncle, hurting everyone around me because I couldn’t face the thing that had hurt me.

“Can I ask you something?” Mom said after a moment. When I didn’t answer, she continued. “What you’re feeling now, the embarrassment and hurt… does it have anything to do with what happened at Bramlock?”

My throat tightened. “Yes,” I whispered.

Mom was quiet a moment, and I considered switching to video chat so I could see her, see what she was thinking through her big, soft brown eyes.

“And this thing that happened… is it what has been affecting your playing?”

My face twisted with the threat of another sob. “It’s been affecting everything.”

I bent in on myself again, curling my arms around my middle in a big hug. It was true, that what Wolfgang had done to me had seeped into every facet of my life. I even wondered if he was the reason I felt what I felt for Reese. Maybe it wasn’t him at all, maybe it was a twisted version of Stockholm syndrome, gearing me toward an older man again, toward my piano teacher. Maybe I wanted love from him because I’d had nothing but hate from Wolfgang.

But none of that felt right.

Not when I thought it, not when I poured it out on the mapping table of my brain, staring at the contents and trying to make them all fit together. I knew without question there was something more there with Reese, something past the fact that he was forbidden, that he was off limits to me as my teacher, as a man older than me.

I wanted him, and yet I’d run from him.

Nothing made sense.

“Listen to me, Sarah,” my mother said, pulling me back to her just as I’d begun to spiral again. “Some things — no matter how close we are — some things will be hard to talk to your mom about. And that’s okay. It doesn’t mean anything other than there are just some things we go through as young adults that parents won’t understand.” She paused for a long moment. “I think you should call Reneé.”

“I can’t,” I squeaked.

“I know, I know you feel like you can’t. You think she’s mad at you for leaving the way you did. And maybe she is, but I can guarantee you, she misses you. She wants to hear from you. And I really think you need to hear from her, too.”

I sighed, shaking my head like it wasn’t possible, but my heart swelled a bit at the thought. Maybe I could call her, apologize, let her in on what happened.

My stomach twisted.

“Or,” Mom said after a while. “Maybe, you could open up to Mr. Walker.”

I stopped breathing at that.

“Hear me out,” she said, as if she could see my freakout through the airwaves. “I know he’s your teacher, and he’s a man, and he’s older. But, I also know he’s earned a lot of your trust over the past couple of months. You’ve worked with him so much, and he’s proved to you that he cares about your wellbeing and your music. Maybe, if you open up to him about what happened at Bramlock, it would help you tackle the vulnerability aspect in your playing. I know you said that’s something he’s been asking of you.”

I blinked, processing her words as I propped myself up more in the pillows.

“Do you think he would listen, if you told him what happened?”

“Without a doubt,” I said softly. “I just don’t know if I could tell him. Manman, I’m not sure I can ever tell anyone.”

“I know,” she said on a sigh. “I know. And I wish I could crawl into that head of yours. I wish I could comfort you without you telling me a thing. I just… I think we might be past that, mwen chouchou. I think you might be at a very critical point in your journey of healing, where no matter how much it hurts, you have to talk to someone about what happened in order to keep moving forward.”