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His mouth hangs open slightly, and he just stares.
“What?” I ask, feeling insecure and far too warm under the weight of his stare.
“Can you play for me?”
My head jerks back, not having expected that. “I…I can’t.”
Gideon’s jaw tightens. “Please.” It looks like it’s hard for him to ask this, but it doesn’t matter if he begs; it won’t happen.
“No. You don’t understand. It’s not—I don’t play in front of people,” I admit on a sigh, feeling my cheeks warm further.
“Why?” He sounds truly puzzled when he asks.
I guess for a man like Gideon Byrne, nothing would be difficult. He couldn’t understand.
“Stage fright. I’ve never been able to.” I let out a harsh breath. “I used to be able to play for my brother.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, watching me closely. “What happened?”
I look down at the cello, not wanting to see Gideon when I say the next part. “He changed, and then he was gone. I haven’t been able to play in front of anyone since.”
Sadness hangs in the air like a dense fog. It’s oppressive and heavy, making it hard to breathe.
The room is still and silent, but my heart is pounding so loudly in my chest that it feels like it’s going to burst. The pain, the emptiness.
It was like a physical weight pressing down on me. I can feel every subtle movement, every tiny breath. It’s too much.
The moment is stretched out between us, growing more and more tense with each passing second. I can see the sadness in his eyes, but there’s also something else.
A resignation, maybe. Or acceptance. Like he’s finally come to terms with something that he’s been fighting for a long time. We just stand there, looking at each other, neither of us knowing what to say or do. Finally, he breaks the silence. “I’m sorry.”
It’s said so quietly I can almost trick myself into believing it was never said. But it was.
Before I can respond, he turns and walks out the door, leaving me alone with my cello.
I sit in silence for several minutes, thinking about what just transpired. A part of me has always needed to hear those words and thought I never would. It doesn’t change things, and it won’t bring my brother back, but it does offer a small sense of peace.
I pick up my cello and settle into position. My eyes close. I take a deep breath, and then I play.
The music washes over me, and as it does, my mind wanders to Gideon.
What is it about him? Why does he twist me up?
He’s always been somewhat of a mystery, but after spending more time with him, I’m quickly learning that there’s more to him than meets the eye.
I can’t help but be drawn to him, even though I know I shouldn’t.
As I play, I find he’s all I can think about. The sadness I saw reflected in his blue eyes haunts me, even though it shouldn’t. He caused it.
Then my thoughts turn to something else entirely. What would he think if he saw me play?
Would he appreciate it?
Would he be moved?
Why do I care?
My heart seizes in my chest because I don’t know when it happened, but I do care what he thinks of me.
