I pad down the stairs toward the chapel and with each step, the soft music gets a little louder. When I hit the bottom step, the music stops. Silence seems to echo loudly in my ears as I rush down the hall and round the corner into the room.
The piano seat is empty.
Stunned, I walk numbly to the front, trailing my finger along the empty piano bench.
I know it was playing. I know it’s what woke me. The lid to the keys is open, which is unusual. It’s usually closed when it’s not in use.
And then I smell it.
The barest hint of Dare’s cologne.
My heart in my throat, I look out the window, to see a lamp turned on in his cottage.
He’s still up. He’d been here.
Somehow I know, without anyone having to tell me, that he still wants me as much as I want him, regardless of how cool he’d acted earlier. I don’t know his reasons, and I don’t know his secrets.
But I know one thing as I collapse onto the seat of the piano.
Even though he tried, he couldn’t stay away.
31
TRIGENTA UNUS
Calla
In the morning, I want to go see Dare. But at the same time, I don’t want to be desperate. I don’t want to play games.
The memory of his piano music drifting through my house last night buoys me, though, keeps me from panicking.
He’s trying to do an honorable thing. I feel it in my bones. And just as much, I feel the connection to him, loud and strong, tugging and tugging me toward him. I know he feels it too. And because of that, I can’t let myself worry.
It’ll work out. It has to.
So with a last glance over my shoulder, I walk away from his door, certain that I’ll see him sooner rather than later.
With the sun shining on my shoulders, I decide to take a walk.
I wind through the trails, working my way up toward the cliffs rather than down toward the sea.
When I get to the top, I’m surprised to find Finn sitting too close to the edge.
Startled, I stop, my pink chucks freezing in place.
Finn’s black ones dangle over the side and he kicks his feet casually, not looking one bit concerned that the edge could break away at any moment.
“Finn,” I say slowly, trying not to startle him, “Move away from the edge.”
He looks over his shoulder at me, unconcerned. “Hey, Cal. Did you know that nutmeg is incredibly deadly if it’s injected?”
This freezes me, too.
“You don’t know that firsthand, right?” I stare at him, examining his arms for injection marks.
He rolls his eyes. “You know I hate nutmeg.”
I can’t breathe. “I also know you’re sitting too close to the edge. Move back. Carefully.”