What He Never Knew (What He Doesn't Know, #3)(68)

“Not at all.”

Reese eyed me for the longest time before he pulled his gaze back to the road, cracking his neck without responding.

“I’m just saying, it’s been two years since you quote, unquote, dated — and even that is a stretch, all things considered.”

Reese’s face fell flat at that.

“I’m not trying to dredge up old Charlie feelings or anything,” I said quickly. “I’m just saying… even if Jennifer isn’t the right one, she could be the right one to get you out of your funk. Maybe open you up to dating again. You know?”

Reese apparently didn’t know, because he just stared forward, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles were the color of my uncle’s face. He shook his head, almost imperceptibly, before he finally responded.

“So, you want me to go on a date? That’s what you’re saying?”

No.

God, no.

Not even a little bit.

It’s the absolute last thing I want.

“Yeah,” I answered instead, swallowing down any other response my brain was screaming at me.

Or rather, my heart.

“I do. I think it’ll be good for you.”

Reese laughed, the sound so soft and laced with distaste that I wasn’t sure it could even be classified as a true laugh. He shook his head, but didn’t look at me again.

“Fine. Guess I’ll go on a date, then.”

I swallowed, forcing a smile like I’d won, like him agreeing to take Jennifer out was somehow a victory.

When we made it back to his place, Reese offered me a stiff hug goodbye before taking Rojo inside. I stood there in his driveway for the longest time, staring at his front door. I didn’t know why I was rooted to that spot, why I felt so physically ill that throwing up was the only thing I wanted to do in that moment to find some sort of relief.

But I tore myself from the spot, climbing into my uncle’s car and driving the ten minutes it took me to get home in complete silence.

This is the right thing, I told myself. Reese will be happier with someone like her.

Someone who isn’t me.

I said those words in my mind, over and over and over again — even after I’d slipped inside the house and closed the door to the piano room, taking a seat at the bench. I immediately began working on the piece Reese had assigned me, but it felt flat, and my desire to sing was somewhere right around my desire to see Jennifer Stinson again.

My shoulders fell, hands collapsing on the keys as an ugly string of notes rang out.

If this was the right thing to do, if pushing Reese away was what was best… why did I feel so sick?





A week later, I stared at my former best friend’s name on my phone like pressing the DIAL button would set off a nuclear bomb.

It’d been a rough seven days.

The piece Reese had assigned me was harder for me than I expected — mostly because I couldn’t tap into the same emotion as the composer. I wanted to nail it, drive it home when I performed it tomorrow at our Sunday lesson, but I felt like I was miles away from grasping what I needed to in order to accomplish that.

Not only was I struggling with the assignment, but Reese had been distant and cold at our lessons that week. If it was even possible, he seemed to be back to the same grump he’d been the first time we’d met. I tried to convince myself he was just doing what I’d asked him to do. He was acting as my teacher, not my friend. And that’s what I wanted. I didn’t come to Pennsylvania to make friends.

The problem was that I had, anyway.

Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I loved hanging out with Reese. I wanted to be around him — not just when he was teaching me, but all the time.

Maybe that’s why my stomach had lurched at our Thursday lesson when Jennifer had called him and he’d agreed to take her out Saturday night.

AKA tonight.

He hadn’t so much as acknowledged the call when it was over, picking up our lesson right where he’d left it like I hadn’t just heard him tell another woman that he’d pick her up at seven on Saturday night. And I knew it didn’t matter, that he was doing exactly what I’d asked him to do — true to his word, just like I knew he would be.

But I still sat there on his piano bench with a thick, sticky tongue for the rest of our lesson.

Now, here it was five o’clock on Saturday evening. Reese was probably showering. He was probably shaving, laying out his clothes, spritzing himself with the cologne that I loved so much. He was probably combing his hair back into a nice, neat bun at the nape of his neck, probably lighting up a cigarette to ease his nerves.

And I was here, alone.

It was just as it should be. I wanted him to date, to move on from Charlie, to find a step forward. I wanted him to be happy.

I just hated that it couldn’t be with me.

I needed to talk to someone before my thoughts drove me up the goddamn wall. But I couldn’t tell my mom, definitely couldn’t tell my aunt or uncle, and I’d pushed every other person in my life away when I’d left Bramlock.

Including Reneé.

Sighing, I shook my head and finally tapped the DIAL button, putting the call on speaker. As soon as the rings started filling my room, my stomach tightened, a knot forming in my throat that I had to swallow past when she answered.