The Revolution (35 page)

THERE ARE TIMES
you should go with your gut. Correction: always go with your gut. It will never lie to you. It may trick you. It may even be wrong sometimes. But it won’t lie.

I trusted the wrong thing. The bodyguards said they were “On it.” They weren’t. One small slip in their judgment and Lara was put at risk again. I was only gone an hour, details of the upcoming shows organized, the interview questions approved, a call to Lara’s parents placed.

Nodding to the bodyguards, I open the door. Lara gasps, then relaxes when she realizes it’s me. I rush to her bedside. “What’s wrong?”

“He was here.”

“What? Who was?”

“Mark. He was here.”
What the fuck?

“What do you mean he was here? How?”

“I don’t know. He was wheeled in by some man, and we were left alone despite me telling him no.” Her strength caves and she starts to cry.

I hold her. “Did he hurt you? What happened? What did he say?”

“I’m fine. I am. It was just so unexpected. He took me by surprise.”

My teeth grind together. “Lara, what did he say?”

“That he’s sorry. He said sorry.”

“What else?” I hold her tighter, trying not to lose my shit.
That fucker was in here
. “I know there’s more. Just tell me.”

“He wants something I’ll never do for him. He asked me to lie to protect him.”

“Lie about what?”

“You.”

“What did he say?”

“That we had broken up after a bad fight. You were irrational and hit me. I ran to Mark for help. He was driving me home and a deer ran in front of the vehicle causing us to crash.”

“What? That’s not plausible on any level. What did you say?”

She takes my hand, removing the pressure from my knuckles as I grip the railing of her bed. “I will never lie for him and I will never betray you.”

Hugging her, I try to comfort her as best I can. “I know. You sure you’re okay?”

“I am,” she replies while I rub her back.

“Rochelle will be in to pack up your stuff. I’m going to get you discharged. You’re not staying here any longer.”

I start for the door, but she calls me, “Kaz?” When I look back, her gorgeous eyes are on me. “You can’t protect me from everything. I know you’re trying to, but I’m okay. We’re okay. Please stop worrying.”

“I’ll never stop worrying. Not while he breathes.”

“All of this, this isn’t how we’re going to live. I can’t live like this. You can’t put your life on hold to helicopter around me.”

“I’ll feel better when we’re home.”

“I like when you call it home.”
It’s only home because of her.

“It was never home without you.”

With a shy smile, she asks, “Just so I’m clear, are you wanting me to stay or live there?”

“What would you like to do?”

“I want to be with you, and I want what you want.”

“I love you, Lara. Live with me then. Let’s just do this. Let’s be together.”

If only I could capture the smile on her face and keep it forever. She’s so incredibly lovely. She’s also giggling in giddiness. “You love me enough to make that offer so freely?”

“I do. What about you?”

“I do. I do, too.”

I’m hoping it’s only a matter of time before she’s saying I do to me forever.

SPENDING TIME IN
bed with Kaz is the best medicine. We talk, we cuddle, we watch movies, and we sleep entangled in each other—our bodies and emotions. He’s healed my soul as much as my wounds.

It’s only been a few days since being discharged from the hospital, but so much has happened that I’ve decided to stay disconnected from the world a little bit longer. Kaz had my townhouse packed up and my stuff brought here. Two of the spare bedrooms are filled with boxes and my furniture. My clothes have taken over his closet, and both bedroom closets. And he has not complained once. Though I have. I feel bad, but then he makes me feel so much better with his kisses, and hugs, and afternoon delights. That’s when he talked me into staying and two days later, my townhome was on the market.

It’s just after midnight. Kaz met with the band for a few hours earlier in the evening, but he’s been home since. And score one for me—he made me a Russian dish called Pelmeni. I’d like to say it was good, but it wasn’t just good, it was amazing. He’s quite the chef. “Where did you learn to cook?”

“My mother. She said it would drive the girls wild.”

Smiling, I lean my head on his shoulder. “She’s right.”

“That was a big motivator, but I also found it relaxing. It’s a process to follow. You can get creative or get lost in the process. It’s nice to be lost in your thoughts sometimes. I get that when I play guitar too.”

“What about the piano? You never talk about playing, you never play, but yet, a beautiful piano is the centerpiece of your home. The whole house revolves around it.”

“It’s a ghost that haunts me.”

“Will you play for me?” I ask nervously. I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable, but I want to help him like he’s helped me.

He leans his head to the side, far enough over to look me in the eyes. “I’ll play for you, but not right now.” His lids are heavy with sleep, worry and the world weighing them down. “Let’s go to sleep.”

“Okay.” I lift up just enough for my lips to reach his and kiss him goodnight, hoping to kiss away his troubles. But I have a feeling his troubles run deeper than he lets on. “I love you.”

“I love you, Lara.”

ANOTHER DAY PASSES
and no piano. Another night arrives and we’re cuddled on the couch in the bedroom, an old movie is on the TV, but I don’t think either of us is really watching.

I say, “I got a call that his computers were taken as evidence and the videos found. They asked me what to do with them once they were done.”

“What did you say?”

“I told them to destroy them. I just hope they didn’t watch them. I can’t worry if they did though. It is what it is. As long as they don’t go public…”

“And the photos?”

“They’ll be gone with the videos, the computers destroyed.”

“Are you okay?”

I lean my head on his shoulder. “I’m fine.” I entwine my fingers with his and ask, “Why did you walk away that day in Luxembourg?”

“I knew I wasn’t living the life I wanted to. I was convinced at one time it was, but I knew. I woke up. I showered. Got dressed and went to the concert hall. I was watching the symphony warming up. Just stared at them, thinking.”

“About?”

“About my life and how I saw it going. My hand was injured and I was struggling with the slow healing and the intense touring schedule. I thought
what if I didn’t play
? What if I walked away? What would happen?”

“You injured your hand protecting your mom and sister.”

“I’ve never thought for one second it was a mistake.”

“But you lost everything—your piano career and your family because of it.”

“I didn’t lose it. I left it behind to discover what was ahead. I’d do it again. It was never about them choosing me over him. It was about stopping someone from hurting others. Unfortunately, it didn’t work.”

“Kaz?” He keeps his eyes on me when I say, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I want to, for me and for them. Your heart is so big, right and wrong, so clear to you when it’s a fuzzy line to everyone else.”

“It’s not to you, but your soft heart might cause you problems sometimes. Here’s the thing though—stay soft, vulnerable, open. Don’t let anyone harden you against what matters.”

“What matters?” I ask, whispering.

“Love.”

THE LIGHTS HAVE
been out for an hour or more. I’ve been tracing the design on his T-shirt with my finger and thinking a lot about his life before he walked away. I have so many questions, but I start with some obvious ones. “If you didn’t want to perform, why are you in one of the biggest bands in the world?”

“I never said I didn’t want to perform. I just didn’t want to do what I was doing anymore. I wasn’t happy under that spotlight and public interest was growing in the press back home.”

“But you’re in the spotlight now.”

“It’s different now. Johnny Outlaw is the frontman. Dex gets his own fair share of attention. I’m a guitarist in the shadows of their spotlights and I’m good with that. I don’t need the attention. I just want to play music that people enjoy.” He smiles, then winks. “And being in
The Resistance
pays damn well.” He slides farther down under the covers and ends my questions for the night.

The notes are heavy, the melody trickling into my dreams and gently coaxing me awake. My eyes are tired, but I turn to check the time anyway. 2:47 a.m.

Lying there in the dark, I hear him. For the first time. And I know he wants me to, so I get up and pad across the floor, dragging the sheet with me as I go. I tighten the corner into a knot above my chest and continue down the hall until I see him. I had full intentions of going closer, but seeing him stops me still. Moonlight lights the room, but Kaz is a shadow in its night. His head is lowered as his fingers play from a memory that captures the vividness of a life once lived.

The familiar music gets darker hitting a crescendo of emotion, and I call to him. “Kaz.”

His fingers stop moving, his head rises, and his eyes land on me, and a smile that weakens my knees appears. “The piano was a spontaneous purchase. I haven’t played it before.”

Leaning against the wall, I watch him as his fingers run along the top of the keys. “Tell me about it.”

“I’d just bought the house, but we had flown to New York for a show. It was late, maybe around midnight and I was with some friends, Derrick was there. We passed a piano store and a guy was playing it. Only one light on, but the music could be heard from the street. I stopped and watched, missing that feeling of getting lost in it.”

“Do you not get lost when you play guitar?”

He looks up with a smile that’s so sincere it’s hard to believe so much weighs him down. “I do. I love the guitar. I couldn’t choose if I had to, but I missed playing piano. I knocked on the door knowing the store was closed. When he answered, I told him I’d buy it, but I wanted that one. The richness of the timbre was what I’d been missing.” He taps a black key. “But I’ve not touched it since it’s arrival.”