“I don’t have all the answers. I may never have them. All I can believe in is that healing takes time. It’ll happen for you.” She needed to believe that as much as he did.
His jaw clenched. “What makes you think you know so much about me?” he demanded, suddenly irrationally angry, defensive.
“Your eyes,” she said simply, unafraid of his unwarranted attack. “It’s all there. The windows to the soul.” She smiled softly and crossed the room, sat down on a pillow and continued. “If you ever decided to play again, it would be there as well. And that’s not always a bad thing. Listen to the blues. It’s the heart of ache and loss that gives it the richness and depth, which makes it touch something inside us.” She wrapped her arms around her knees, staring into his stormy eyes.
Quietly he appraised her, and realized why he was so angry with her. He was afraid of her, afraid of her ability to see beyond his shell, to peel it away and expose him. And his greatest fear was that they would both discover that there was nothing inside.
“Do you ever think you’ll play again?”
“I don’t know,” he answered in a monotone.
“What are you afraid of?”
The question shook him. How could she know? He swallowed, fighting down the seed of truth that struggled to burst forth. He failed. “Myself,” he answered. “And you.” He came toward her.
This time it was Rae who moved away to safety—out of reach, wary almost, rising to circle him as her emotions raced. Finally she stood still, gripping the edge of the piano for support. Her gaze connected with his. “So am I,” she whispered.
Quinn stepped up to her, absorbing all the available air in the room. She suddenly felt light-headed. He reached out to her, gently stroked her cheek. “What are we going to do about it?”
She looked up at him. “Maybe stop being afraid.” Her body trembled beneath his touch.
“How?” he asked, his soul desperately needing to hear the answer.
“Through the fire—to the safety on the other side.”
His very own thoughts again, he realized. “I don’t know if I can.”
Rae took his hand in hers, and smiled tenderly. “Neither do I, Quinten Parker. Neither do I.”
And in that instant they found themselves in an unfamiliar place, a place long forgotten—filled with promises and truths unspoken—the future.
Chapter 6
The studio session was in full swing. Quinn had run out of excuses for not getting there as he’d promised and finally found himself seated on the opposite side of the soundproof room, watching them do their thing. Funny how Rae had wiggled her way into his life, with him kicking and screaming all the way. The truth was, he kind of liked it. Liked the feel of being part of something, sharing, even if it was only a bit of himself. At least it was a start. Who knows, maybe it could really turn into something if he let it.
It all seemed so easy, too easy, Quinn mused as he absently tapped his foot and nodded his head to the beat of the band. He and Rae had fallen into a comfortable pattern of spending time together during the past two months. They’d talk on the phone, or meet for drinks in the evening, sometimes even do laundry together. He checked out some of her performances, and they hung out at some of the local spots every now and then. The only problem was, it seemed that she was always surrounded by people: the band, girlfriends, studio folks. And they all wanted to get in his business, find out what the deal was with him and Rae, when he was going to play again, write again. He didn’t even know. At times it really pissed him off. All he wanted was to be left alone, not become a source of conversation for her curious friends. But a part of him understood. He had his aloofness as a buffer against the world and she had people and her music. Hey, whatever. He wasn’t about making waves anyhow. That’s why he stayed away. This was her world, not his anymore. And if she hadn’t practically begged him, he wouldn’t be sitting there now. But she couldn’t seem to understand that, couldn’t seem to understand what it did to him.
He watched her do her thing behind the studio glass, directing the band, switching up on the music. He had to admire her, though, her drive and focus. In that way she was a lot like Nikita. But the similarity ended there. Rae was her own woman. She wasn’t born into privilege, hadn’t attended Ivy League schools, didn’t surround herself with people who looked down their noses at others. Rae wasn’t trying to get on the other side of the tracks to see what it was like. She lived there. She’d made her way through life on her own, without anyone’s help.
One evening over dinner she’d told him where and how she’d grown up and even he was amazed that she’d survived.
“There were five of us,” she said, sipping her screwdriver. “Me and four brothers.”
“Where do you fit in?”
“The oldest.” She laughed lightly. “And believe me, being oldest in my house had no perks, especially being the only girl.”
“Why?”
“My father—such that he was—believed that a woman’s role in life was to take care of the men, no questions asked. And if you did gather up the nerve to question anything, you were sure to get an ass whipping. Maybe get one just because he felt like it at the moment. Me he only beat once a month. My brothers he beat like it was a religious ritual.”
“Damn. What about your mother? Didn’t she do anything, say anything?”
Rae twisted her lips. “My mother had been whipped into submission years earlier. She wouldn’t even speak unless my father said it was okay.”
Quinn slowly shook his head, knowing that there was nothing he could say to make it all disappear, be different somehow, so he just listened.
“The minute I turned sixteen I left. Got on a train from Mississippi and came to New York. I never looked back, too scared I’d see my father running up behind me.” She shivered at the image. “Found a job as a waitress in Brooklyn and finished school. I had this great music teacher who took a liking to me. She got me into the high school choir. I used to stay after school and watch her practice on the piano.” She glanced up at him. “That’s how I learned to play.”
The corner of his mouth curved up into a grin. “So did I. Just listening mostly.”
Rae nodded in understanding. She took a breath and another swallow of her drink. “When I graduated, Ms. Granville, that was her name, told me about a small recording studio in Bed-Stuy in Brooklyn and a guy that was looking for talent. So I went to see him, not knowing what to expect, but hoping he’d miraculously make me an overnight sensation.”
They both laughed.
“That brother worked me to death. Do you hear me?” She chuckled, remembering the countless nights of burning the midnight oil. “RJ was no joke. He taught me so much about the business, introduced me to people, and did my first demo for me. When I met with the producers at Sony, they loved what they heard and wanted to sign me right then and there.”
“I hear a but in there somewhere.”
Rae grinned. “But…I didn’t want to sing, never did. I wanted to write and compose.”
“So what happened?”
“I told them I wasn’t interested. Well, RJ almost had a stroke right in the office. He’d worked for three months to get me in. If looks could kill I would have dropped dead right on that plush red carpet.”
Quinn howled with laughter. “Woman, you are crazy.”
“Yeah, they thought so, too.”
“So what happened?”
“After the producer cussed RJ out