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)
He leans back just enough that my eyes can drop down to see what he’s saying, but this close, with his rugged voice, I can faintly hear the words anyway.
“I don’t know what happened to you, Amalie, but I know that there is something inside of you that I want to reach in and curl my hands around, holdin’ onto it until it heals, until it’s put back together again, because what comes out when you play is pure, and it’s raw, and it’s so fuckin’ broken. You’re the perfect kind of jagged pieces, angel, and fuck knows I want to put them back together for you.”
Oh.
God.
My heart feels like it’s going to explode. And I know, I know in that exact moment, that Malakai is the one I always imagined. The man I could fall in love with. That man that would make me forget how to breathe. And, like all good fantasies, reality has a way of crashing right back in.
I can’t let him in.
I can’t be doing this.
It wouldn’t be fair.
I turn my face away, closing my eyes, fighting the tears. For a moment, his hand stays cupped against my cheek, and I really really want it to stay there. I really want him to make it all go away. To put my pieces back together. To make me believe again. But I can’t allow that. And he has to know that. He has to know before he tries to get any closer.
I keep my head turned away, and my eyes closed.
I feel his exhale, and his warm breath puff against my cheek.
Then he lets me go.
And a few minutes later he’s gone.
And my heart breaks a tiny bit more.
-3-
AMALIE - NOW
“Isaac is staring at you,” Scarlett tells me, grinning.
I glance over at Isaac, who joined us today to work on some music. Scarlett likes him and said she wants him on the album too. I’ve heard him play, and he’s incredible, so I don’t blame her for that. I meet Isaac’s eyes, and he grins at me. I smile back and turn to Scarlett.
“He’s being friendly. Stop playing matchmaker.”
She pushes her bottom lip out, and I can see why the whole of America is in love with her. She’s beautiful, in a soft, country way. All that blond hair and those big brown eyes. She fits the part perfectly, and she has a personality to match.
“I’m not,” she says, throwing her hands up. “I was simply saying he was staring at you. He told me he finds you fascinating.”
I shake my head, and my cheeks flush.
“You should consider dating, Amalie. You’re so beautiful. Any man would fall to their knees to be able to take you out.”
I shake my head quickly. “No, I don’t want to.”
Her face drops, and a softness washes over it. I love that about her. She’s never too much. “Is it because of your hearing?”
I go to shake my head, but decide to let her think that it is. I nod. “Yeah, it’s embarrassing, and I just ... I don’t know ... I’m not ready.”
“Can it be fixed?” she asks, staring right into my eyes.
She’s like a human lie detector. I swear. She can read your soul with just one glance. Thank God, I’m a good liar. Except I won’t lie to her about this, because, well, even I have a threshold.
“There is a doctor that said he’s seen this kind of injury and can operate to try and correct it. There is no guarantee it can be fixed, but he said he could improve one ear enough that I can hear a little out of it, but he isn’t sure of the other. One is more badly damaged.”
Her eyes get wide. “How come you haven’t done it then?”
Because I don’t deserve to get fixed when Caiden can’t be.
Fear?
I don’t know. I honestly don’t know why I haven’t done it. Having just enough hearing in one ear would change everything for me. Especially now I’m working with Scarlett and may go on tour again, but the guilt that I feel when I think about going in and doing it makes me back away fairly quickly.
“I’m afraid, I guess,” I tell her.
Her eyes get soft again. “I could come with you, if you like?”
Why does she have to be so incredible?
“I don’t ... I don’t know,” I say, staring at my hands. “What if it ended up worse? Right now, I can hear a tiny, little bit. If I could hear nothing, nothing at all, my world would collapse and I’m afraid of that.”
She reaches over and takes my hand. “And what if you could hear a little more? Your world would shine.”
She’s right.
I know that.
But the idea of doing it terrifies me. Both out of guilt and fear. My doctor sends information letters often, because I know he doesn’t understand why I won’t do it. There are hundreds of thousands of people in the world that would jump at the chance, and I’m running from it.