Unveiling Hope Read online

  She’s Gabe’s sister.

  How could something that felt so right be wrong? It didn’t make sense. She fit too perfectly in my arms. How could she ever fit in someone else’s?

  November 25, 2016

  Mom,

  I haven’t touched a piano since you died. I’m ashamed of that.

  When you were sick you asked me to play for you all the time. I’d walk downstairs and play, knowing I was lulling you to sleep upstairs. But it hurt. Every note made my fingers feel heavier. The end of every song felt like a death sentence. Part of me always expected you to be gone by the time I came back up. I would race to get to you, only to pause in the doorway and watch your chest move with your breaths.

  I’m not sure why I stopped playing. Was it because it was too painful and reminded me of you? Or was it because I thought, why should I get to do something you couldn’t?

  I guess the why is never really important. The point is, I did stop. I stopped and you would have hated that.

  My smile is widening as I write this because a few weeks ago that changed. I played. I’ve been playing. Not the piano, but something similar: a keyboard.

  And it’s all thanks to Derek.

  A couple weeks ago I walked into Gabe’s apartment and found Derek holding a guitar. He had such a sad look on his face. But with a single touch of my hand to his knee, he played for me.

  And somehow we fell into this pattern. We don’t talk. We just play. Sometimes Derek sings too.

  It’s still hard to talk about what music means to me. But this feels like a step in the right direction. Derek feels like a solid step in the right direction.

  At least I hope so.

  Hope can be a beautiful thing, but I still think it’s probably dangerous.

  Maybe tomorrow will feel different.

  I love you.

  I miss you.

  Forever,

  Sam

  “MORNING.”

  I finished counting the seconds I had left in this position before lifting my head to say hello. The words got stuck in my throat and I unceremoniously fell on my ass. Again.

  I’d never fallen doing yoga before, not even when Essie would bang around the apartment. Yet almost a month with Derek and I’d fallen on my ass twice.

  The first time was because I’d been so wound up, between Gabe’s little speech and not knowing what I would do when Derek got home. Now it was because he was shirtless.

  Black basketball shorts hung low on his hips. He had a fine dusting of hair heading south and those delicious V lines that had my mouth watering. I’d never experienced such a visceral reaction to a man’s body before.

  I’d seen Derek in swim trunks before, but that had been almost a year ago, and since then he’d gotten a tattoo.

  It was a bar of music right over his heart.

  I wondered what song was important enough for him to tattoo a part of it over the organ keeping him alive.

  I’d never told anyone this, but I’d always been intrigued by tattoos. Mostly on other people—okay, men—but lately I’d even considered getting a small one myself. I knew it was something that would freak out my father, and I was pretty sure everyone else thought I wasn’t “the type.” But I was sick of having a type. Sick of being shoved into a single box.

  Derek cleared his throat, and I lifted my gaze to find his eyes on mine before following my stare to his ink. “You like?” he asked with a grin.

  I wanted to lick it. Did that count as liking it?

  Unable to speak, I gave a quick jerk of my head before looking away. I tried to remember where I was in my routine, but I was surprised I remembered anything right now.

  Not to mention, Rory’s appearance from his room meant yoga was pretty much out of the question.

  “Want breakfast?” Derek called out over the slamming of a cupboard. I looked over to see he’d already taken out the pan and a few other things.

  “That’d be great.” I was surprised he could hear me at all since my voice was so soft. But when he turned around, offering me a wide, brilliant smile, I knew he had.

  Rory pounced in my lap, her paws landing on my chest and her tongue immediately seeking my cheek. I absentmindedly rubbed her sides, all while staring at Derek’s back as he moved about the kitchen. His back muscles flexed as he reached for something else. What, I had no idea, but I was thanking God for its existence right now for causing the scene in front of me.

  When he moved to turn around, I quickly averted my eyes to Rory, who dropped a toy in my lap. I threw it across the room and watched her scamper after it. In her excitement she ran too fast and slid into the wall. But she shook it off like it was nothing and pranced back to me, dumping the toy back in my lap.

  I chanced a glance back at Derek and found him facing me, cutting up some fruit. I rolled my lips inward as I watched him, and when he sucked some of the juice off his thumb I squirmed.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  My gut twisted, thinking about Derek while I was still with John made me feel horrible. But my feelings couldn’t be denied.

  Rory came running back for the umpteenth time but instead of throwing the toy, I held on to it. I needed a better distraction…

  “Do you want a treat?” I asked excitedly while I rubbed her belly. In my desperate attempt to look for a distraction, I forgot that I’d have to walk past Derek in the kitchen to get to the dog treats on top of the fridge. But I couldn’t back out now. Rory knew what treat meant. Just like she understood walk and ball, and once you said one of those words, you had to follow through or she’d bug the shit out of you until you did.

  With Rory close on my heels, I got up and walked into the kitchen. It wasn’t particularly tiny, but Derek’s half-naked presence made it feel so. I turned sideways so I didn’t touch Derek as he worked at the stove. Rory had stayed by the table, tail wagging and hopping around in a circle. I’d just grabbed the treats when I felt his presence at my back. Derek’s breath hit my neck as he bent down and whispered, “Excuse me.”

  A shiver worked through me, and I bit my lip to suppress the moan that wanted to burst free. Derek lifted his arms to grab something from the cupboard above the fridge. I was completely surrounded by him.

  Derek was a flirt. I knew this about him, but I’d never played into it. At first because I was young and felt too inexperienced. Later because I knew his flirting was a show, one that didn’t differentiate between his audiences. Now I didn’t much care.

  Suddenly feeling bold, I slowly turned around and leaned back against the fridge, the bag of treats hanging by my side as I kept my death grip on them. He lowered his eyes to mine as he rested his palms against the fridge by my head.

  “I… I didn’t know you got a tattoo,” I said lamely.

  That’s you flirting? an inner voice mocked.

  His grin widened. “A couple months ago.” Without taking his eyes off me, he grabbed my hand and brought my fingers to his chest to trace it. I sucked in a sharp breath as Derek’s eyes raked down my body.

  “Do you have any?” he murmured.

  I shook my head. “But I’ve thought about it.”

  “Yeah? Where?” Before I could respond, he continued, “Personally, I love tattoos here…” I jolted as the tips of Derek’s fingers slipped underneath my tank top and brushed the front of my hip. When he dragged them down they caught on my yoga pants, dipping inside before falling away.

  I held my breath the entire time.

  When he pulled away and moved back to the stove, I was stunned to discover I was disappointed. That I’d been hoping he’d slip his hand down further.

  Shame quickly coursed through me. I never thought of John that way. I’d never felt so unsettled when John touched me.

  Keeping my head down, I quickly returned to the living room and gave Rory her treat. I kept my eyes averted, eventually turning my back on him as he finished breakfast.

  It wasn’t until we sat down to eat that I realized Derek had never retrieved
anything from the cupboard.

  We sat down a few hours later, and the teasing smiles had vanished.

  Derek and I had started rehearsing for the contest two weeks ago. He actually approached me about it the day after I’d handed him the flyer.

  It had been a lot, trying to juggle my new job and this, but it felt good. It felt good to pay my own way, to be able to do anything I wanted.

  Still, every time we sat down to play, the room grew somber. We weren’t enjoying it yet. We were still sorting through all the baggage that came with our love of music.

  “Why do you play?” he asked. His guitar was resting on his lap and his stare was fixed on the strings.

  “What?”

  “Why do you love to play? Your mother may have signed you up for piano lessons, but you stayed because you loved it. Why?”

  I lifted my hands from my keyboard—a poor substitute for my mother’s piano. Staring down at the black and white keys, I thought about his question.

  I thought about how much it helped my mom in the end, to hear me play. How much it could have helped me if I had kept going instead of quitting like a coward.

  Music had been a saving grace to a dying soul.

  Music was power.

  It made us feel—it reminded us of what it meant to be alive. To be human.

  “For the same reason I loved reading fairy tales.” I paused before looking up at him. His blue eyes were already on me. “It gives you a home when you have none, and a friend when you can’t find one. It makes me feel less alone. It brings people together in a way that little else can. It can bring you to your knees, or lift you up higher than you thought imaginable.”

  I smiled as I thought about my mom. “But before I was old enough to appreciate all that, I loved it because it made my mom smile. It was that simple.”

  “I felt that way too,” Derek whispered, his gaze intense on mine. “The less alone part. Music was always there, even when no one else was.”

  Our eyes held, everything else disappearing. It was overwhelming, and just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore, he looked away and cleared his throat. “Have you ever tried singing?”

  “Me?” I choked out. “No, I’m pretty sure I would suck.”

  “How would you know if you haven’t tried?”

  “The same way I don’t have to jump off a building to know it’ll hurt.”

  “I’m glad we’re not being dramatic.” Derek rolled his eyes, but I saw a hint of a smile on his lips.

  He put his guitar down, scooted over, and patted the spot next to him on the couch. “Come here.”

  “I’m not a dog,” I grumbled as I stood.

  Derek chuckled. “If you’re good I’ll give you a treat.”

  The levity left as soon as his hands were on me. One on my back and one below my chest. “It’s important to keep your spine straight and to sing from here,” he said as he slowly rubbed his hand against my stomach. “Try taking a deep breath from your diaphragm. Good—do you feel how your lower abdomen expands?”

  I nodded, trying to focus on his words, but it proved impossible. Derek went over a few more techniques, all while his hands remained on me.

  “So you’ll practice those exercises?” he finished. I turned my head until our faces were mere inches apart. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and it was nice to know he was as affected as I was.

  The hand on my back slowly slid up, moving underneath my hair and cradling my neck. The other relocated to my hip, his fingers digging in as he tried to bring me closer.

  “Sam…” he murmured, eyes trained on my lips.

  “Why’d you stop playing?” I whispered—desperate to redirect this moment to something innocent. So the question was out before I could think about the consequences. And the consequence was that Derek shut down. I saw it in the way his eyes darkened—that he was putting his walls up again. His hands left me and he moved back.

  Shrugging, he pretended to rearrange the music in front of him. “That’s a long story.”

  “I’d listen.” I cringed a bit at how desperate I sounded. Clearing my throat, I tried again. “If you want to tell me, I’ll always listen. We’re not just roommates. We’re friends too.”

  “I know, Sam.” Derek looked somber as he picked up his guitar and started warming up. I returned to my spot.

  Nothing else was said. We just played. And even though a cloud still hung over him, our eyes met several times when we were playing and we smiled.

  The music wrapped around us and whispered…

  You’re not alone.

  The leash was extended as far as it could go. I would try to guide her back to my side, but Rory always ended up running ahead to sniff something.

  I’d just turned onto the main strip by campus when I heard someone call my name. Looking around, I found Lauren running up to me. She was wearing tight jean shorts and a low-cut, midriff-baring shirt.

  “Hey.” She stopped in front of me and smiled, only a little out of breath. “Where are you headed?”

  “I was taking Rory to visit Sam.” I nodded toward the coffee shop up the street.

  Lauren’s lips twisted into a frown. I had told her about Sam moving in last weekend when I saw her at a fight. “I’m pretty sure dogs aren’t allowed in coffee shops.”

  “Shit.” I squatted down next to Rory and rubbed her head. “I guess I hadn’t thought that part through, girl.”

  “I can watch her. While you go in and talk.”

  Grimacing, I stood back up. “That’s not necessary, Lauren.”

  “I don’t mind at all. She looks like a sweetheart.”

  I hesitated, but there wasn’t much I could do without coming off as a giant ass. “Okay, thanks. Let’s go.” I gave her a tight smile and we began walking.

  Lauren kept talking but my thoughts were—unsurprisingly—occupied with Sam.

  Lost.

  That had been the only way I could describe her. She’d seemed so lost when she first came back.

  But these last few weeks, as she started playing music again and making her own way, she seemed happier. I liked to think I was part of the reason.

  “Derek?”

  Blinking out of my delusions, I asked, “Yeah?”

  “The leash?” Lauren held out her hand. I looked up and saw that we were in front of Caffeine IV.

  “Here you go.” I handed it off. “Thanks again. I’ll be right back.”

  I walked in and immediately found her. She was standing next to a table, holding a rag and talking to whoever was sitting there. My stare didn’t deviate from her, but out of my periphery the guest looked blonde.

  All of a sudden pain shot up my arm as the door slammed into my shoulder.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” a girl muttered before scurrying to get in line. I didn’t even have time to tell her not to worry about it. I was the idiot who’d been paralyzed in the doorway.

  “Derek?”

  I looked back and saw the girl Sam was talking to had turned around. Her long, blonde braid hung over her shoulder like it did most days. “Derek!” she repeated, wide grin in place. “Get over here.”

  My hand was massaging my shoulder as I walked over to greet them. “Hey, Alara. What are you doing here?”

  Gabe’s girlfriend stayed seated. “I wanted to see how Sam was doing. To see if Kath is treating her well.”

  “Oh hush, honey. You bite your tongue,” an old woman hollered from behind the counter. Sam and Alara laughed before Sam turned my way.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I thought we’d surprise you.”

  “We?” Sam asked, her nose bunched up in confusion.

  “Oh. Me and Rory.”

  Alara and Sam both appeared perplexed before I turned around and pointed outside. Lauren was kneeling on the ground, probably giving an eyeful of boob to a few guys walking, and petting the dog.

  “You brought Lauren?” Alara asked.

  “I ran into her.”

  “Derek…�
� she warned.

  “Who’s Lauren?” Sam asked. Her lips tipped down into a frown and she looked uncomfortable.

  “One of Derek’s ex-girlfriends who is super clingy.” Alara gave me a pointed stare before taking a sip of her coffee.

  “What was I supposed to do? Tell her to fuck off? She’s not a bad person.”

  Alara sighed, seemingly regretful, and held up her hands. “I know. I just wish she’d find someone and leave you alone.”

  Desperately needing out of this conversation, I turned back to Sam. Her eyes were still on Lauren and Rory. “Did you want to come out and pet her? I don’t know if you have a break—”

  “I just took it,” she cut me off as her gaze moved to me. “I’ll see you two at home. Tell my brother I said hello,” she added to Alara before turning around and disappearing behind the counter.

  “That was weird. I thought she’d want to see her.”

  Alara stood up and grabbed her purse. “Well she did just spend ten minutes talking to me. That was probably her break.”

  I kept staring at where Sam had stood, as if that’d make her reappear. “Yeah, I guess…”

  “Great.” She looped her arm through mine and directed me to the door. “I’ll tag along back home and help you get rid of Lauren.”

  I nodded, grateful for her interference. I had no idea how I was going to keep Lauren from coming to my place. She’d never been before, and truthfully I didn’t want her to know where I lived.

  When we stepped back outside, Lauren’s smile faltered at the sight of Alara. They exchanged polite greetings, and Alara said something that had Lauren waving and walking in the opposite direction. My thoughts were too preoccupied with Sam to hear the words exchanged.

  As we made our way back, I thought about that lost look in Sam’s eyes. The one I swore reemerged just now. But how could that be? What could possibly have bothered her?

  Nevada and I walked side by side in the dark, the only light coming from my cigarette.

  “No Ellen tonight?” I asked, just now remembering I hadn’t seen his sister tonight.