Page 13

* * *

Nell didn’t make the same mistake of sneaking out again.

Since that day, her parents had been checking on her through the entire night. She’d be half asleep, and the door creaking open would wake her up.

Her father looked up from his newspaper, and her mother paused her cross-stitch.

“Going out?” Her mother’s eyebrows furrowed. “Where to?”

Nell held her hands behind her back and picked at her ragged, chewed-down nails. “To a friend’s house.”

“A friend?” Her mother gasped, then caught herself by clearing her throat. Neither of her parents excelled at hiding their surprise.

To their knowledge, it had been a long time since she’d hung out with a friend.

Correction: it had been a long time since she’d had friends.

Not that Barrett was a friend, but she could say they were friendly acquaintances now, caught somewhere between complete strangers and friends.

But he did know her secret, and she his, so that counted for something.

“Yes.” She felt the need to answer when they both stared at her with wide, unbelieving eyes.

Her mother placed the cross-stitch down on their glass-topped coffee table and rose from the burnt-orange floral couch. “Well, this is such great news. Which friend?”

What she really meant was: When did you make a new friend? Because Lord knew Nell barely left the house, and the friends she used to have were either dead or wished her dead.

“You don’t know them.” Nell remained vague. It was half the truth. Her parents didn’t know Barrett personally, but everyone in town knew of him. And rest assured, they would lock her in her room if they knew just whose house she was going to.

Her parents shared a look, but then her mother grinned and rose. “Would you like to take some cookies with you to share? I just made a fresh batch of snickerdoodles.”

“That’s all right.”

“No, no. Take some. It’s polite to bring a gift when invited to someone’s home.

” Without waiting for an answer, her mother floated out of the room to the adjacent kitchen, and Nell heard the sounds of pantries opening and closing and cookies being stacked into Tupperware.

Her mother’s philosophy was that the way into someone’s heart was through their stomach.

Her father stared at her over the top of his paper, his brows raised. “Are you taking your bike?”

Nell fought to urge to take a nervous fingernail between her teeth. “Of course.”

“You might want to take the car. It will be hard to carry the cookies on the bike.”

Of course, it would be easier to take the car. It wasn’t a question of what was easier; it was a question of what would make her want to throw up and panic, and what wouldn’t. In that sense, the bike always won. “I can balance them.”

He nodded slowly, biting his tongue, as Nell’s mother came scurrying back into the room with a dozen cookies in a container, eagerly handing it over. “I didn’t know how many people would be there, so I just put them all in.”

Nell wanted to tell her mother that she had no reason to take so many since it was only one person, but the hopeful twinkle of her mother’s eyes made her keep her mouth quiet and accept the cookies to appease her.

“Thank you. I’m sure they’ll love them.” She lifted them up and backed up. “I’m going to go now.”

“Oh, be very careful, baby.” Her mother anxiously wrung her hands together, clearly battling the excitement of her daughter having a friend again with the overprotective instinct to wrap her up and never let her leave again.

You’d think they were sending her off into the world for the first time. “Call if you need anything.”

“I will.”

* * *

Barrett was sitting on his wooden porch steps when she pulled up on her bike. He saw her coming from afar, and she watched him pull a cigarette away from his mouth and toss it to the ground, stamping it out with his shoe.

He waved as she approached, and she did her best to awkwardly wave back, but the pack of cookies tucked under her arm made it difficult to raise her arm enough.

She slowed to a stop and unmounted her bike, taking a deep breath to steel her nerves before walking it the rest of the way to him.

He eyed the cookies. “What’s that?”

“Snickerdoodles. I hope you like cookies. My mom told me to bring them for you.”

His face blanched in surprise. “You told your mom you were coming here?”

“I told her I was meeting a friend.” She averted her gaze from him to the ground, wondering if he would be offended. “I wasn’t sure they would let me leave if I said it was you.”

A soft, deep laugh made her look up.

Barrett was grinning lopsidedly down at her. “Smart move.”

There was contagious something about his laugh and genuine smile that made her nerves subside and her lips lift.

“Plus, I love snickerdoodles.” He nodded down at them.

She held the box out for him. “Here, they’re yours.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He accepted and gestured to the house. “Come inside.” He turned and walked up the steps he had just been sitting on.

Nell took a deep breath and followed him up.

Unlike the last time she was there, the inside was already tidied up. The natural sunlight streaming in through the window blinds made it appear bigger.

Barrett led her to the same sofa as last time and offered a seat. He placed the cookies on the table. “You want something to drink?” he asked and gestured with his thumb over his shoulder.

Her parched throat from the ride over answered for her. “Some water would be nice. Thank you.”

The corner of Barrett’s mouth lifted. “My pleasure.”

Nell crossed her legs and folded her hands politely in her lap, looking around the room again—like she had the last time she was in there—while he rummaged in the kitchen.

Something green caught her eye, and she blinked at a guitar she hadn’t noticed when she walked in, and which had certainly not been there last time.

It looked exactly like a guitar one would expect Barrett to have: long and slender, with a sharp, angular body a rockstar would play on stage. That must be why he had it.

It was nothing like the soft, rounded acoustic one KC had, but Nell quite liked the way this one looked anyway. She shuffled over to it from the couch.

Up close, she could see that it wasn’t just green. It had a crackled black pattern that reminded her of the dried-out salt flats she’d visited once in Utah with her family.

To think she’d be learning to play on something like this was almost overwhelming. It seemed far too valuable for her lack of knowledge. What if she ended up breaking it?

Despite herself, her hand brushed down the rightmost string, and she listened to the soft scratching sound it made.

“The love of my life.”

Nell jumped and pulled her hand back as though the instrument had stung her.

Barrett beamed and held out a glass of water. “She’s my most prized possession.”

Nell accepted and smiled sheepishly as she clutched the cup in two hands. “Sorry. I should’ve asked before touching.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said and picked up the instrument by the neck. “You just couldn’t resist. Like me.” He shot her one of his contagious smiles.

She smiled nervously, glad for the second time in the past five minutes that she hadn’t offended him. But it shouldn’t surprise her that he was hard to put off. Probably his entire life, he’s had people say things to him or around him. After that long, you got used to things.

She, herself, was still working on growing tough skin.

“How long have you had it?”

“‘It’ is a ‘she’,” he corrected playfully. “Sandra. And I got her back in high school. Saved up for years after I saw her in some catalog.”

“Was it . . . I mean, was she your first guitar?”

“No. My second.” He strummed the strings lightly, making a tinny sound that differed from acoustic. “But she’s my match made in heaven.”

“Well, you look perfect together,” Nell complimented.

It tied the whole Barrett look together: black Judas Priest shirt, ripped dark jeans, tattoos running up his arms, and a sharp green and black guitar that matched everything about him.

“Did you bring your stuff?”

“Oh, right.” She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the bent, water-logged book Barrett had “given” her and one folded-up piece of paper she hadn’t had the heart to open yet. She held them out.

His attention went directly to the piece of paper, skipping right over the beginner’s guide.

“What’s that?”

She pursed her lips and took a deep inhale. “KC’s song.”

Barrett’s hand was reaching out for it, but when he heard her words, he paused. He glanced up at her through dark lashes, an unsurety in his eyes. “Can I?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

He took it between his fingers, and she was grateful for how gently and respectfully he handled it, like he was touching an ancient artifact that could be damaged if he handled it too roughly. In her head, it was a sacred thing.

To think she was letting Barrett see what was on it felt more intimate than sharing her secret with him.

He studied its contents with knowing eyes. His head began bobbing rhythmically, and it took her a moment to realize that he had a beat in his head, matching whatever the notes might be on the paper. Her heart tugged and sped up.

The same way someone’s laugh and face and voice faded and became forgotten over time, the tune of KC’s song had grown fuzzy in Nell’s memory. She didn’t know if she could recollect even the pace or the sound of KC’s voice. The words, though, she’d never get out of her head.

Yet Barrett, who’d never heard this song in his life, must have seen the penciled-in notes and was capable of playing them in his head.

Her throat caught, and tears started to punch the back of her eyes.

She watched him, astounded, as he adjusted his guitar in his hands and plucked out a note. Then another. Then another.

The corners of her vision started to move slowly, disconnecting and tunneling into Barrett’s movement.

The blood drained from her face as her body went cold.

The notes alone meant nothing, but as he effortlessly pieced them together, each one stabbed her directly in the heart with the flick of his fingers.

“Wait!” she snapped, her breath coming out faster and faster.

He didn’t hear her. He kept playing.

“Wait. Stop.”

The sound froze.

She sucked in a deep breath and held it.

It took a moment, but when she could bring herself to look at Barrett’s face, she was both relieved and devastated that it wasn’t KC’s dark brown eyes looking back.

Barrett’s brows furrowed, and she instead was treated with warm but worried chocolate-y eyes as he took a step closer to her. “Hey. You okay?” His voice was soft and gentle, like he was afraid that speaking too fast or loud would set her off.

She took several deep breaths and blinked away the tears. She cleared the phlegm from her throat. “Yeah. Yes. Yes. I’m okay. I’m fine. Uh . . . Can we just . . . Can we wait to do that? Until later?”

He paused a moment, studying her, before answering, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you want.” He folded up the paper.

She wasn’t ready. She just wasn’t ready to hear it yet. Give her some time, and she’d be ready. Just not yet.

“Thank you.”

They stood in silence for a while, and she couldn’t tell if Barrett was waiting for her to break it or if she was waiting for him.

Luckily, he took the first step and smiled to lighten the mood. “We’re wasting precious study time. Do you know anything about open chords?”

“What are those?”

He whistled low and shook his head. “Looks like we have a lot of work to do.”

* * *

Nell now knew there were twenty-four open chords on a guitar.

Her beginner’s book showed them all, named them all, and had pictures visualizing where she should place her left-hand fingers as her right hand strummed the strings. She tried to mirror the pictures as best as her stiff fingers would allow.

However, it was Barrett who nitpicked by manually adjusting her fingertips around onto specific areas, guiding her in a way only someone who really knew what they were doing could.

Her hand felt too small for this. It was hard to keep her digits bent and pressed down in the right places without touching others. Her pinky wouldn’t move far enough from the other fingers at times to complete one chord.

But he was right that she needed to learn hands-on. The muscle memory would be far easier to recall than the pictures in the book. There was no way she would be able to do anything without holding this guitar and forcing her fingers into uncomfortable positions.

“Play a C.”

She adjusted her fingers, peeking at the illustration on the page to mimic where they went, and strummed three times. None of them sounded right. They sounded stiff, one of the strings even buzzing loudly.

Barrett moved one finger further up. “Try again, and relax that top one a bit.”

She strummed again, and this time it sounded better. Not perfect, but at least it didn’t buzz awkwardly like before.

She smiled up at him, eager for his approval.

Instead, she was interrupted by a loud knock on the front door.

They both paused and looked at the door, then at each other. Voices were on the other side—a few guys, she would guess. She didn’t recognize them, but Barrett must have because he cursed under his breath and stood up.

“Give me a sec,” he said and motioned for her to stay put.

She sat in her chair, legs crossed, with guitar held in her lap. She was afraid that if she moved too much, she might lose the hold of the C chord that was finally working for her.

The door opened, but she couldn’t see past Barrett’s body as he purposefully blocked her view.

“What the hell are you guys doing here?” Barrett hissed, his voice low like he didn’t want her to hear, but in the small house, it would be difficult to hide any conversations.

“Now, that’s rude,” someone she couldn’t see said, and there were a few mumbles of agreement. “We come bearing gifts, and this is how we’re treated.”

“Now’s not a good time,” Barrett said, tightening even closer to the door opening.

Nell frowned, unsure if he was hiding them from her or her from them.

“What? You got some chick in there?”

A tingling heated the skin of Nell’s cheeks. She was certainly “some chick”, but she wondered if they would even believe Barrett if he said that it wasn’t what they thought it was. She wondered if he’d tell them about her at all.

“You guys need to go.”

“Oh, come on, man,” a new voice, deeper than the first, chimed in. “We’ve already seen your Playboy collection. Whatever you’ve got in there can’t be any worse.”

Barrett made a choked sound, and Nell burned up.

Despite his best attempts, there was a small tussle leading to Barrett being pushed aside and Nell staring stunned into three pairs of shocked eyes.