Chapter 48
FORTY-EIGHT
My fingertips left tiny drops of blood on the strings as I repositioned my left hand. I stared at the crimson spots for a moment before wiping them clean and continuing to play. The tips were raw now, blisters torn open from hours of practice, but I couldn’t stop.
When I stopped, I thought about them.
“Harper.”
I didn’t look up at Rachel’s voice, didn’t acknowledge her standing in the doorway of her parents’ guest room where I’d been camped out for the past three days.
She’d grown up in Missoula and was house-sitting for her parents while they were on a cruise.
I’d never been so glad to have a friend with parents who loved to travel.
I couldn’t bear the thought of staying next door to Drew and Rory after everything that happened.
Their faces flashed in my memory and my bow skipped as my heart clenched.
No, no, no.
I couldn’t think about them.
That’s why I’d been playing until I collapsed. Because if I took even the smallest break, I’d think about them and burst into tears.
My left hand tightened around the neck of my violin and I pressed harder into the strings, the bow trembling slightly as I pushed through a particularly difficult passage.
“Harper, stop.”
“I can’t.” The words came out breathless.
“You need to sleep. You need to eat something that isn’t coffee and granola bars. And you need to stop bleeding all over your strings.”
I finally looked at her. Rachel was in her pajamas, hair mussed from sleep, and her expression was a mixture of worry and frustration that I’d been seeing more and more of since I arrived on her parents’ doorstep bawling my eyes out.
“I’m fine,” I lied, setting the violin down carefully on the bed.
She scoffed. “You’re not even close to fine.
You’re destroying yourself.” She moved closer, and I could see the dark circles under her eyes.
Shit, I’d been keeping her awake. Here she was giving me a place to stay and I was messing with her sleep.
I was a terrible friend. “Harper, you’re going to permanently damage your fingers if you keep this up. ”
I looked down at my left hand, at the angry red welts where the strings had been cutting into my fingertips. There was dried blood under my nails, and my joints ached from the repetitive motion. But physical pain was easier than the alternative.
“I can’t stop playing,” I whispered, the admission ripping out of me like a confession.
“Because when I stop, I think about them. I think about Drew holding Rory while she fell asleep. I think about the way he looked at me when he said he loved me. I think about how none of it was real. How my dad was right and I made a fool of myself.”
My voice cracked on the last word, and the tears I’d been fighting back for hours finally spilled over.
“The pain in my fingers is easier than the pain in my chest,” I continued, my words barely audible. “At least this hurt I can control. At least when I’m playing, I’m too focused on technique to think about how stupid I was. How I actually believed Drew Dumontier could love me.”
Rachel sat down beside me on the bed, careful not to disturb the sheet music scattered everywhere like evidence of my obsession.
“Harper, what if Drew never meant for his comment to turn into something like that—”
“It doesn’t matter what he meant.” I wiped my eyes roughly with the back of my hand.
“His words started it. He’s the one who said there was no universe where we’d hook up.
He made me into a challenge for his teammates, whether he meant to or not.
And now everyone thinks I was just”—my voice broke—“some game he won.”
“But he stopped it once he realized what they were doing—”
“Rachel, stop.” I stood up abruptly, pacing to the window that overlooked the street.
How long would it feel like my heart was actively bleeding out of my chest?
“He’s not even fighting for me. That proves everything, doesn’t it?
If he really cared, wouldn’t he be trying to contact me?
Wouldn’t he be desperate to make me understand? ”
The silence from his end hurt more than I wanted to admit. I’d been braced for calls, texts, him showing up at Rachel’s door. Instead, nothing. Complete radio silence, as if I’d never existed in his life at all.
It confirmed every terrible thought I’d had about myself since learning about the bet.
“Maybe he’s giving you space because he knows you’re hurting,” Rachel said gently.
“Or maybe he’s relieved it’s over.” I turned back to face her, wrapping my arms around myself. “Maybe he got what he wanted from me, and now he can move on to the next challenge.”
Rachel frowned. “You don’t really believe that.”
But I did.
Or at least, I was trying to make myself believe it.
Because believing Drew had used me was easier than believing I’d lost something real. If it had all been fake, then I hadn’t actually lost anything worth keeping.
“I have to focus on my future,” I said, gesturing toward the chaos of sheet music and practice notes. “The fellowship is all that matters now.”
“Harper, you’re scaring me. You haven’t eaten a real meal in three days. You’re practicing until your fingers bleed, which is an accomplishment considering how calloused they were. You won’t talk to anyone except me, and even then, you barely say much. This isn’t healthy.”
“I’m just making sure I’m at my best for my fellowship performances.”
“You’re running away.”
“I’m surviving.” The word came out sharper than I intended. “I’m doing what I have to do to get through this.”
Rachel was quiet for a long moment, studying my face. Finally, she asked, “What about Rory?”
My hand flew to my chest as if I could somehow contain the pain spreading through my rib cage. “Don’t,” I whispered.
“You love her.”
“She’s not mine to love.” The words tasted bitter. “She was never mine. I was just convenient. Someone to help Drew with babysitting.”
“You don’t believe that either,” she said softly.
No, I didn’t, but I needed to if I was going to survive this horrendous ache that was permeating every inch of my body.
“I need to practice,” I said, reaching for my violin again.
Rachel caught my wrist, her grip gentle. “It’s three in the morning.”
“Please,” I pleaded, my voice hoarse from holding back all the emotions that wanted to explode out of me. “Just let me have this. Let me have the music. It’s all I have left.”
Rachel looked like she wanted to argue, but something in my expression must have stopped her. She sighed, running a hand through her hair.
“Promise me you’ll try to get some sleep. And eat something. Please.”
I nodded, though we both knew I was lying. Sleep meant dreams, and dreams meant Drew’s hands on my skin and Rory’s giggle echoing through my mind. Food meant sitting still long enough for my thoughts to catch up with me.
Rachel reluctantly left, and I immediately picked up the violin again, despite the pain in my fingers. The bow felt heavy in my grip, but I raised it anyway.
If music was all I had left, then I’d make it enough.
I had to make it enough.
As I played, a new thought crept into my mind, one that both terrified and comforted me in equal measure. Maybe it was time to consider transferring. Montana had other music programs. Other schools where I could start fresh.
Where I wouldn’t risk running into Drew and Rory around every corner.
Where I could rebuild myself into someone who would never be foolish enough to believe in love.
The strings cut deeper into my already raw fingertips.
This time, I didn’t stop to wipe them clean.