“We were super young.” Gabe licked his lips and stared at the piano, his voice low and gravelly. “I proposed when I was seventeen — I was a kid, but I was in love, you know? Not the type of love most people at that age feel. It was huge — epic — like I’d finally found the person I was supposed to partner up with. And then she was just gone.”
“The accident…” I asked, sitting next to him on the piano bench. “What happened?”
“A tree.” He swore and started tapping the middle C key. “We’d been out partying — nothing crazy, but we’d had a few drinks…”
Drinking at seventeen? I mean, I wasn’t perfect. I’d done my fair share of wild high school parties. But it just didn’t fit him, not when he seemed so controlled.
His rhythm faltered for a couple of beats before he continued, “I wanted to go for one more run down the mountain. We were both skiing. I thought it would be fun before we met up with our friends. She said no.” His fingers moved to the piano, he played softly as he spoke. “I finally convinced her to go with me — only she was complaining about forgetting her helmet, and me being slightly buzzed and not thinking about the ramifications of a human hitting a tree at breakneck speed, blew her off — said not to worry. I discounted her fears when she had an actual reason to be afraid.”
Gabe’s voice shook. “We went down the hill. I heard her scream.” His voice cracked again as his left hand joined his right, playing across the piano. “And then silence.” He closed his eyes. “Sometimes I wonder what’s worse… the scream or the silence afterwards.”
He sighed, his shoulders hunching over as if someone had physically put weights on his body.
His left hand stopped moving.
And when I went to grab it, to offer some comfort, I noticed the tattoo on his ring finger.
It was the letter K, wrapped around like bow, with a tiny music note on top.
And I realized whatever Gabe and I had? It stopped at music — because I would never be able to replace what he’d lost — not while he still held on for dear life.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Me too.” Gabe paused. “Do you hate me now?”
“No.”
“You should.” He sagged heavier against the piano. “I do.”
My phone buzzing interrupted the silence. I wasn’t going to answer it but the buzzing was persistent.
“Hello?”
“Hurry up!” Kiersten shrieked in my ear. “Lisa’s going to be here any minute, and we have to surprise her!”
“Oh, crap. Okay, we’re on our way.”
“We? Is Gabe with you?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Thank God!” She sighed. “Okay, just hurry. Do you need directions or are you good?”
I eyed Gabe’s hunched form and wondered how he was going to be ready to party when he looked suicidal. “Yeah, we’re good.”
If good was finding out he was engaged to a paraplegic who was coughing up blood and was hiding his identity for no reason other than it seemed he hated the guy he used to be and wanted to be different.
Just. Peachy.
Gabe’s eyes searched mine once I ended the call. “Party?”
“Yeah, I totally forgot.”
“I never forget.” He rose from the bench, his eyes darkened as he stared right through me. “Maybe that’s my damn problem.” He turned off the light to the practice room and offered a small smile. “Let’s go.”
And just like that, I watched him pull on the mask again and pretend like the sun was still shining, like he wasn’t taking care of his paralyzed fiancée and blaming himself for the reason she was in a wheelchair.
Huh. And I was complaining to him about having performance anxiety. Yeah. He should have probably told me to go to hell.