Page 62 of Hurt

Willow inhaled.

The bow screeched across the strings—a horrifying shrieking noise crashed around the auditorium and made Roland wince.

Willow’s eyes flew open. She grinned and winked.

“Just kidding.”

She launched into something upbeat. Her bow looked like it was effortlessly moving across the strings. Almost as if it was ice skating on a frozen lake. Willow looked like her fingers were barely clasped around the wooden end of the bow, just gently holding it, and it could fly out of her hands at any moment. Effortless. Like anyone could simply stand up there and pull and push a bow, and it would produce these sounds.

A smile ghosted across Willow’s face, and she closed her eyes. She started swaying at first, matching the music. But then she started moving. Sashaying across the stage led into twirls and dips, jumps and backbends, as she let the music guide her body. The violin increased in its activity, the notes got faster and deeper. High pitches would whine out to accentuate an undulation in the music and then wallow in the valleys of a low timbre.

Her arm was pumping so fast Roland was surprised the strings didn’t fly off. But Willow had complete trust in the instrument as she utilized the entire stage. At one point, she even did little thumps with the bow that sounded like deep bass, reverberating through his feet.

Willow played until a fine sheen of sweat coated her forehead. One song melded into another. Some Roland recognized but couldn’t name, and others he felt as if he had never heard before.

The last song Willow played made Roland sit forward in his seat. The notes wrapped around him and tightened like a noose around his neck but in a pleasant way. It pulled him to his feet, hands resting on the back of the chair in front of him. This song was more drawn out, melancholier. The melody was slower with a flair to it as it looped around and repeated itself.

Finally, Willow drew the bow across the strings a final time, finishing with a small flourish.

Roland understood now. He understood why schools were fighting over her and why the world needed to see her. Willow transcended talent. She had it, it was there in her talent and ability, but it went beyond that. The kind of musician you wouldn’t see again in your lifetime. Even someone who didn’t understand music the way a professional would felt it.

He was a puppet to Willow’s playing. The music made his heart beat faster or slower. Alternatively, he wanted to get to his feet or lay back and close his eyes. With a bow in hand, Willow could command armies if they could only hear her music.

At some point, Roland had walked up the stairs of the stage and approached Willow. She smiled tiredly, panting slightly from her exertions. There was a brightness in her gray eyes, a wild excitement that told Roland she had been feeling as much as performing.

Roland stepped into Willow’s space and cupped her head, angling her face up so he could lay a kiss on her lips. He didn’t devour her like he wanted. He just needed to kiss her. To feel some of that energy that Willow had. She melted into Roland, a soft murmur of surprise as she held the instrument in one hand and the bow in another out to her sides.

“Willow Branch,” Roland breathed into her mouth.

Kiss swollen lips smiled under his. “That’s the name I used when I played.”

“No,” Roland insisted. “That’s who you are.”

Wide eyes looked at him. They were too close, and there was a faint mark on her collarbone and chin from where the instrument had sat, but Roland wouldn’t give her space. He couldn’t. He had to bask in Willow’s presence, needed to be part of it.

Roland wrapped his arms around Willow and dragged her to his chest. The smaller woman burrowed in, hands at her sides because she couldn’t hug back. They sat like that for a long time, letting the emotions of the performance settle in their bones and let their minds sort through the highs and lows of what they had just felt.

“Sometimes, I wonder what would have happened if my parents had lived,” Willow said suddenly, her words slightly muffled by Roland’s chest. “They weren’t into music like the Becketts. Would I have found my way to it, or would I never have known what it felt like to play? Would Kurt be like this? Would we be at The Sunspot?”

They didn’t really sound like questions she wanted an answer to, so Roland didn’t. He just held her, hands splayed along her back and nose inhaling the scent from her hair.

“They call that the Butterfly Effect, right? If one thing had changed, would the entire future be different?” She laughed dryly. “Would I even have met you?”

Roland stiffened before stepping back and holding Willow at arm’s length so he could look at her face.

“We would have met. In any universe, in any lifetime.” He spoke with a conviction he truly felt. Perhaps later, he would blame the endorphins from the music or his inexperience with any sort of romance. But for right now, he knew that Willow was always meant to be part of his life.

Willow’s eyes were wet, but she didn’t cry. She just stared at Roland and swallowed thickly. “Roland, sometimes I think it’s my fault. That maybe I was secretly grateful my parents died so I could have the opportunity to play. That’s why Kurt is suffering. That’s why we’re stuck.”

Roland pulled the violin and bow from Willow’s hands and set them down. He pressed those magic fingers to his lips. “You know that’s not true.”

Willow yanked her hands free and wrapped her arms around his neck. She had to stand on tiptoe to reach, nose pressing against his sternum. Roland held her tightly, patting her head. He was unfamiliar with comforting anyone, but he would do anything to show Willow that she was not at fault. He would lend her all his strength if she needed it.

The performance had awakened Willow, but it had also left her bereft and vulnerable. She clung to Roland as if he could singlehandedly hold up her entire world.

Roland wondered if he could somehow put some distance between Willow and Kurt. To ease Willow’s guilt, to allow her to find herself. Kurt was anchoring her down. Whatever his issues, they entangled both siblings. Roland wouldn’t see Willow be dragged down. He would protect her.

Even from her own brother.