Where Lightning Strikes (Bleeding Stars #3)(63)

When I turned to look at my fingers trailing the bars, my voice was quiet and subdued as I spoke my confession. “Sometimes in the middle of the night, when I can’t sleep and I’m all alone, I hear you play.”

I risked peeking at him.

His eyes were squeezed closed and his body was rigid. Bracing himself.

I turned my attention back to his song. “I’m almost embarrassed to admit this to you…because I would never want you to think I could look at you as anything but the boy next door…the boy who changed me.”

I swallowed hard. “It was three years ago when I heard my first Sunder song. It was late…I’d come home from work and had been alone in my apartment, lost in the same excruciating loneliness I’ve lived in for the last four years. This song came on…”

Soft laughter rolled from my tongue. “You’d think it would be forgettable, nothing that would ever be ingrained in my memory, but I remember the tingly feeling I got when the first few chords came through the speakers. I remember sitting propped up in my bed, entranced. I had to find out who it was. I had to know who was singing. To put a face to the voice that was so haunting and comforting at the same time.”

Energy rolled across my skin at the memory. “They say music touches us in a way nothing else can, and I swore in that moment it felt as if the person singing it was singing directly to me. That they’d found the words for my loneliness. That they’d tapped into it and for a few minutes I didn’t feel so alone.”

“Blue,” he whispered in effort to shut me down, but I kept speaking. “I found out that song…that song wasn’t sung by the lead who normally sings the majority of their songs. It was sung by a gorgeous, black-haired boy. He was singing Sunday Gone, a song I learned he wrote. I’d sit for hours in front of my computer and watch him with his black guitar braced on his lap and his mouth pressed to the mic. I’d just hit replay over and over because that was the only time I felt truly understood.”

I pulled air into my lungs. “And it turned out it was you, Lyrik.”

It was the song I had tortured myself with when I refused to give in to Lyrik’s advances. When he’d terrified me simply from the way he’d made me feel. Back when I’d been certain he would use me up and throw me away.

And I knew he would.

Throw me away.

He’d made that much clear. My heart clenched with the promise that this was going to end. That this was all he had to give.

But I also knew he wasn’t using me up.

He was filling me up.

Would he give me the opportunity to fill him up a little bit, too?

I pressed a hand over his pounding heart. “I hear you, Lyrik.”

He trembled.

“I hear your words and I hear your pain. Let me share some of it. The way you’re sharing mine. Sing me your song.”

In a flash, he had his face buried in my neck. “Goddamn it, Blue. Why do you have to keep doin’ this to me? You keep trying and trying to get to the place where I can’t let you go.”

“What if I’m already there?”

I had to be.

Not all of this could be one-sided and I refused to believe this beautiful boy could be immune.

Not when I’d been touched so wholly.

Not after what we’d just shared.

Not after we’d come so far.

He clutched me tightly. His breaths came harsh and hard and his hands burned into my back as he pulled me tighter.

God, I hurt for him. For me. For us.

“You aren’t supposed to make me feel this way,” he whispered as if in confession—shamed and ridden with guilt yet still refusing to let go. “This was a terrible idea.”

Those five words. If anything, they just reinforced the reasons for my reserve, my need to keep my distance from this devastated man.

He held me, safe and secure, but I could feel part of his spirit detaching and floating away. Just as strongly as he struggled to stay attached.

His voice shook when he finally released it at the sensitive skin of my neck in a torrent of heartbroken passion.

Lyrik sang like he did in the night.

I’d have given it all.

But instead I got lost along the way.

It was only two lines. That was all he gave me of his unsung song.

Two lines from his mystery.

The words coated in uncertainty and obscurity.

Both of us seemed suspended in it, in the echoing silence that followed behind and held fast to the energy clinging to the air.

“I should go,” I forced out when I wasn’t sure I could remain beneath the crushing weight any longer.

He gathered me closer and tucked my head under his chin, his words just as intense as the song he’d let tumble from his mouth. “No, Blue. No. You definitely should stay.”





I GAVE A QUICK knock to Lyrik’s door. After a couple seconds of no response, I craned my ear toward the wood.

No sound or movement on the other side.

Sucking in a breath, I turned the knob and let myself in. I fought the reckless grin when I thought back to the day when he’d granted me a little more access into the private parts of his life.

“I stopped by this afternoon, but you weren’t here.”

“Why didn’t you just come inside? My place is almost always unlocked.” He smirked. “Hazards of having lazy, nosy, too-comfortable friends like Ash and Zee. Gave up trying to keep them out of my business a long time ago.”