Chapter 12 Lily
Lily
RED ALERT! RED ALERT!
RYDER HAWTHORNE IS HOLDING MY HAND!!
Look, I know he’s just doing it to be nice, like an older brother kind of gesture.
He probably saw me crying, which was my natural response to the music, and felt sorry for me.
I could see Henry doing the same in this circumstance.
Adam would get angry and ask who hurt me, and Peter would crack a joke to brighten my mood.
But Ryder’s touch doesn’t feel brotherly.
At least not to me.
We finish the last few minutes of my favorite piece, and I know I’m going to think of this moment every time I listen to it in the future. I can’t tell yet if that’s a good or bad thing.
As soon as the last note ascends into silence, Ryder pulls his hand away. Darn.
He sits up, and I follow suit, wiping the tears from my face. His expression is full of concern. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. I’m what they call a ‘highly sensitive person.’” I make the finger-quotes and give him what I hope looks like a self-deprecating grin.
“What’s that?”
“I have big feelings and emotional reactions. My mom said I was a very sensitive kid. I cried easily… I guess I still do.”
“Yeah. I remember that.”
My cheeks flush with embarrassment. Great. Ryder remembers me as the little five-year-old who cried every time her feelings got hurt.
I think he can sense my shame, and he continues, “But you didn’t seem like that now. You’re not…weak.”
I snort a laugh.
“No, really,” he says. “You’re tough, and you’re not afraid to tell me how it is. I can tell you’ve got some grit now.”
“Tell that to my brothers,” I reply.
“I would,” he says, quicker and more firmly than I expected. A wry grin appears on his handsome face. “But I can’t let them know I’ve seen you.”
I return his grin. “True. Well, as long as you want to stay alive.”
“Hah.” The silence stretches for a minute, us grinning at each other, before my eyes dart away to my hands. I do want him to stay alive. But I don’t want my brothers to know about him either.
Ryder breaks the silence. “So, being highly sensitive means you cry when you listen to music?”
“Oh, yeah. When I’m in public, I usually hold back because I worry I’ll get teased.” I hold an accusing finger at him. “But you were supposed to have your eyes closed.”
He laughs. “Honestly? I was worried you’d laugh at me for getting into the music myself.”
Hope flutters in my chest. “Oh, really? You liked it?”
“It’s not so much liking it as…an involuntary reaction?” He rubs his chest, then thumps his hand on his heart. “I felt it here. My breathing changed, and my chest got tight, and—” He cuts himself off, rolling his eyes. “I sound so lame.”
Uh, no. This is literally the opposite of lame. This is probably the hottest thing a man has ever said to me.
Ryder didn’t just sit and begrudgingly listen to my favorite piece of music with me.
That’s what my brothers do. They’ll humor me, especially now that I’ve been isolated for so long.
I’ll try to share a piece of music I’ve enjoyed recently, and I get a lot of “Yes, that’s very nice, Lily,” but nothing that shows me they get the music the way I do.
Not that I’ve made them lie down on the ground with me. I don’t know what possessed me to include Ryder in that ritual, but right now I’m so glad I did.
Beyond my family’s inability to share my passion for music, I don’t think I’ve allowed myself to get fully immersed, lost in the music, when I’m around them.
Then, besides my brothers, there was Tristan, my one and only romantic partner.
You’d think I would’ve shared my favorite piece of music and the way I feel about it with the man I nearly married.
But our relationship was all about him. What movies he was doing, where he was going, and then he’d lavishly compliment me—my looks, my sweetness, my… well, that’s about it.
But this? This moment Ryder and I just shared? I’ve never experienced anything like this with someone else.
“Not lame,” I say. “Because that’s what happens to me, too.”
“I guess classical music isn’t so bad after all,” he says with a grin.
I clap my hand to my heart, feigning offense. “I can’t believe you just said that to me. Classical music is, like, an integral part of my life.”
“Integral, huh? That’s a pretty big word.”
“I’ll have you know, I aced business calculus. And integration was a very…important part of that.”
His brows rise. “Impressive.”
“My brother was a good tutor.”
“Which one? Henry?”
I nod. “He’d come over and prep me for my exams. That’s when I helped him get together with Luna. We even came out here to the Harvest Festival with Aunt Agatha. There was a pumpkin carriage, and a goat ate her shoe…” I drift off and wave a hand around. “It’s a long story.”
“Sounds like it.” He raises a brow. “So, were you like a matchmaker?”
“Oh, yeah. There’s no way Henry would’ve made a move if it weren’t for me.” I sigh dramatically. “But alas, now I’m stuck here, with only my music and aunt for company.”
“And me,” Ryder says.
I feel the smile grow on my face. “And you.”
He holds my gaze for another moment, and my heart beats a little faster.
No. Bad Lily. He’s just here as a friend, checking in on his best friend’s little sister. Stop it.
“So, what’s the worst part about being here?” he asks.
“Easy. No piano,” I reply, the answer automatic.
“Really? It’s not that you can’t go to parties or book club with Aunt Agatha?”
I smirk. “Really. In a weird way, I’ve gotten used to being alone.” I gesture at him. “Relatively alone, I guess. And I’ve kind of always been like that. Most of the time, I’d rather stay home playing the piano or reading a book instead of going out to parties.”
He nods. “I get it.”
I quirk a brow at him. “Oh, really? Mr. Hollywood Stuntman?”
He chuckles. “I’m in the Hollywood scene—well, I’ve been out of it for a little while now, but I like my position.
I’m not in the limelight. I show up to set, jump a motorcycle or fall out of a building, and then head home.
No pressure, you know? Hardly anyone knows my face.
” He pauses a moment, lost in his own thoughts, then gives a little shake of his head. “Anyway. I get it.”
How interesting. “I get that,” I say. “So I don’t completely hate being here. But it was better at home in Silver Lake City, where I had my grand piano. I was lonely, but at least I had the piano. And now…”
My voice trails off as I try to control my reaction. I inhale deeply and turn my face away from him. All my emotions are bubbling up to the surface, and tears fill my eyes with just that small reminder of the gaping hole in my life.
“You miss it that much?” he asks.
I look back at him and just nod. He studies me for a minute, then says, “I’ll have to see what I can do about that.”
“Oh, yeah?” A laugh erupts from my lips. “I highly doubt you can do anything. Agatha says the tower can’t bear the weight of an actual piano.”
“Agatha also didn’t think anyone could climb into this tower, but here we are.” He gives a wink, and I tell the butterflies in my stomach to calm down.
Not only is he giving me fluttery feelings, but he’s giving me hope. And deep down, I really want to believe him.