What He Never Knew (What He Doesn't Know, #3)(64)

The words were out of my mouth before I realized I shouldn’t have asked, shouldn’t have invited myself to hang out with Reese outside of our lessons. That was what I’d asked him for — those boundaries.

Now, they sort of felt like prison bars.

Reese furrowed his brows, scratching at his jaw as he considered my request.

“I’m sorry,” I said on a sigh, shoving my folder into my messenger bag along with my new assignment. “I just… I don’t get out much on the weekends, other than our Sunday lesson. But that’s not your problem. I shouldn’t have asked you that. It’s your weekend, I’m sure you’d like to spend it without the student you have to put up with all week.”

I was trying to joke, aiming for lightness in my voice that I somehow missed.

“I don’t mind if you join.”

I glanced up at him from the bench. “Are you sure?”

It seemed like Reese was at war inside that head of his, like he was battling between what he should say and what he wanted to. “Yeah. I’m sure. Rojo would love it.”

Would you love it, too?

I smiled, swallowing that question down. “Okay. As long as you’re sure.”





Reese



“Wait, wait, wait,” I said, still laughing around a mouthful of pretzels. “You’re serious? You used to fish?”

Sarah nodded, swallowing the last bite of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Mm-hmm. It was one of my dad’s favorite things to do on the weekends, and I was hell bent on being his fishing buddy. I’d help him pick out lures, hook worms, fix reels. The whole shebang.”

“You stuck hooks in worms, and now you’re vegan?”

She threw a pretzel at me. “I told you, I was young. I didn’t know any better!”

I was still chuckling as she smoothed out her long skirt, crossing one ankle over the other. We were both seated on an old blanket of mine, the shade from the dogwood tree we’d parked under offering reprieve from the hot sun. A cool breeze whipped in from time to time, blowing back the light, creamsicle-colored orange scarf Sarah wore around her neck. It was the brightest color I’d seen her wear, and it matched the gem stones in the small earrings adorning her earlobes.

She looked happy and free, and it was my favorite way to see her.

Rojo had played in the park all afternoon, but now she was sprawled out on her side, half in the sun and half in the shade on the other side of Sarah. I’d considered cancelling, telling Sarah I changed my mind and wouldn’t be able to take Rojo to the park like I’d planned. I knew being with her outside of our lessons was dangerous, a fire I shouldn’t play with or even stand next to for warmth. But, the temptation to spend more time with her won out, along with the dejected look on her face when she’d thought I was going to say no when she originally asked.

The truth was, I missed her.

I missed talking to her, missed her laugh, her jokes, her incessant need to give me advice on my life even though I hadn’t asked for it. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have Rojo — and that dog had become my everything within a month.

Sarah had brought light into my life, and when we’d put those boundaries between us again, it was like a thick, gray cloud had returned.

I just wanted a little time in the sun again.

“When I was that age, I’d do just about anything to hang out with my dad,” she said after a moment, her smile back as her eyes gazed off in the distance. “He was my hero. Then again, I suppose that’s every little girl.”

“Did he listen to you play?”

She nodded. “Oh, yes. He’s the reason my dream is what it is.”

I frowned, reaching for one of the bottles of water we’d packed and cracking it open. “What do you mean?”

“He took me to a performance at Carnegie Hall when I was eleven.” She shook her head, eyes lighting up as she reached for her crystal. “It was when Daniel Barenboim played with the Staatskapelle Berlin string quartet.”

“Wow.”

She laughed. “Right? I remember sitting there in the audience, dressed up and holding my dad’s hand, mouth hanging open pretty much the entire performance.”

“I would have been catching flies, too.”

Sarah chuckled. “It was so incredible, and so moving. One moment I’d be smiling and laughing, bouncing with the music. The next? I’d be quietly crying. And my dad squeezed my hand and never let go the entire time.” She softened at that, picking at the grass near the edge of the blanket. “When the show was over and everyone got up to make their way out, he made me stay and sit. And when the theatre was nearly empty, he pointed up at the stage, and he said, ‘You belong up there. That’s going to be you one day.’ And from that moment on, it was my dream to make his words come true.”

The breeze picked up, blowing what was left of the spring blooms on the dogwood above us. Little puffs of white floated down and around us, surfing the wind until they landed on the grass or our blanket. I just watched Sarah pick at the grass until Rojo shifted, her head rolling over onto Sarah’s leg. She smiled at that, rubbing behind Rojo’s ear.

Suddenly, it all made sense — her passion, her drive, her optimism when it came to Carnegie, despite all the obstacles life had handed her. She could have quit after her father passed, or after her injury, or after her professor assaulted her. But instead, she’d taken that pain and used it as fuel. She’d made a promise to her father and to herself, and no matter how out of reach it seemed to get on that stage in New York, she was going to do it.