Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
She opens it and we step inside, and my heart skips a beat. A music room. Full of instruments. And right in the middle a big, white piano. Its shine is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Its beauty is out of this world. I press a hand to my heart and hiccup with overwhelming emotion. I look to Scarlett, and she’s smiling at me. She nods. “Go ahead, it’s yours to practice on. We’ll be using it a fair bit.”
“We will?” I screech.
“Yes, get onto it.”
I glance down at my fingers. They’re still sore, tender when I move them too much. Scarlett nudges me with her shoulder and I look back up at her. “Screw your damn fingers, play that piano!”
I laugh softly and rush over, sitting down. After my accident, I thought I’d never play again. It took me so long to figure out the pitch, because I couldn’t hear it right. I learned if I put my feet at the base, I could tell if I was pushing too hard, or if I was going too soft. But eventually, I just needed to trust myself. To close my eyes and know that my fingers knew what they had to do.
And they did.
They didn’t let me down.
Not in the end.
I take a seat at the breathtaking piano, and I close my eyes. Closing my eyes takes the focus away from everything else. It puts it all on the piano and me. It’s as if the whole world has stopped, and it’s just us. My fingers graze over the hard, cool keys and my heart races. I get this feeling every time I play. Like a piece of me is being formed, like a part of my soul is being bound together.
I start playing, softly at first, and then I get carried away. My fingers forget their ache, and they sail across the keys as if that’s what they were born to do. I press a foot to the side of the piano, feeling its vibrations run up my leg, and then I let the music rip into my soul, opening me wide, telling the world everything I can’t.
All my pain. My agony. My happiness.
It all pours out, even if nobody can hear the words.
When I stopped trying to hear the music, I finally learned to feel it, and feeling it is so much more powerful. When I first started playing again after I lost my hearing, frustration would bubble, and I felt as though my passion was being stripped away from me. Because if I couldn’t hear it, what was the point? Over time, I learned to feel it, to feel the vibrations through my body, to let it soak into my soul and bring me the same kind of peace it always did.
Of course, I can hear it enough, but never the loud, booming way I could before.
That doesn’t matter now.
I keep playing, eyes closed, fingers moving effortlessly. When the song comes to an end, I smile and exhale, opening my eyes. It takes a moment, but I realize quickly we’re not alone in the room anymore. Malakai and Maverick are both here now, and all three of them are staring at me, a different expression in their eyes.
Scarlett, hers is pride. Pure, raw, pride.
Maverick looks blown away, impressed, disbelieving.
But Malakai. His face. His expression. It’s one I want to keep for the rest of my life. It’s one I want to hide in my memory and pull out any time I need to see someone look at me like that. With that kind of passion, and feeling, and depth.
His green eyes are intense and locked on mine, his jaw is tight, but not angry, just tense. His hands are by his side and his breathing is a little deeper than usual. But it’s the emotion coming from his eyes. He’s looking at me in a way I’ve never been looked at before. It’s the look a husband gives a wife when she walks down the aisle. It’s a look of falling in love. It’s a look of pure, raw, pride.
And I want that look to stay with me.
Always.
My heart slams against my ribcage and, for a moment, I don’t really know what to do. Scarlett tugs at Maverick, and the two of them leave them room. Before I can protest, Mal is striding toward me, eyes still on mine. Oh, God. What is he about to do? I should get up. I should walk away. Run even. I need to do something, because he’s getting closer.
He stops when he reaches me and I tip my head back, looking at him. For a moment, I don’t think he’s going to do or say anything. He just stares down at me, those eyes still speaking for him. Then, he reaches out and very gently cups my jaw. He leans down, so close his eyes are level with mine, his breath tickling my lips. I part my lips with a slight gasp, not knowing what to do, knowing I should pull away but also knowing I can’t.