Page 47 of What He Doesn't Know

Reese flitted across the room to Mom next, placing the speaker high on one of the shelves in the corner before sweeping her up in his arms. I raced to the corner, hopping up and down trying to reach the speaker on the shelf, but it was no use.

Piano Manblared at the highest volume setting as Reese did some sort of attempt at a two-step with my mother.

“Reese, let me go! We have so much to do! I have to call the catering company to triple check the menu and I have to go check on the linens and make sure the tables are set correctly and that the centerpieces are the right height and, and…”

Reese spun her out, twirling her back into his arms just in time for the first chorus to start. He sang at the top of his lungs, off key and too loud, and suddenly, Mom smiled.

And she started singing, too.

My jaw dropped at the sight of it, Mom and Reese floating around the messy tables piled high with prizes still to be bundled and baskets and ribbon and cards and ink. I couldn’t believe Mom was dancing, that she wasn’t completely freaked out.

And then I realized this was exactly what she needed.

A laugh shot through me as they twirled in my direction, a few of the other volunteers gathering in the door frame to watch and sing along. Reese and Mom threw their hands out toward all of us just in time to sing the famous question the bar had for the piano man in the song.

It was like being in a piano bar, just like the ones I’d gotten too drunk in during my college years. Before I knew it, I was swaying along and singing out loud, too. And suddenly all the stress and tension from the night melted away, all at the hands of the boy next door.

“Alright, alright,” Mom finally said through her laughter, pushing at Reese’s chest with her tiny hands. “I’ve got to get back to work. Take over, Charlie.”

My eyes bulged. “What?”

But before I could protest, Mom was out of Reese’s arms and I was in them, being swept away from my safe little corner as Mom gathered up the rest of the volunteers and headed back to their respective stations.

It was just me and Reese then, dancing to the end of the song, but Reese wasn’t singing anymore.

He was just watching me with a small, victorious smile.

“Oh, you just think you’resosmooth, don’t you, Reese Walker?”

He laughed, spinning me out before twirling me back into his arms again. I missed his hand on the come back, palm landing against his chest, instead. Reese covered my hand there, slowing our steps as the music faded out.

“Had to lighten this place up,” he said softly. “Your mom needed that.”

“She did,” I agreed, and we slowed even more, our hips just barely swaying as we held each other.

“So did you.”

My teeth worked at the inside of my cheek as I trailed my eyes up his chest, finally finding his gaze. “Listen, Reese…”

“Hey,” he said, cutting me off. His knuckles found my chin and he lifted it to keep my eyes on his. “It’s okay, Charlie. I know what you’re going to say, and it’s okay. That night was intense, and we were both drinking. But just because it got a little out of hand doesn’t mean you have to ignore me now.” His brows bent together then. “We’re friends, right?”

Friends.

The word was a perfect description of our relationship. It was right, it fit, it worked.

Why did it feel so inadequate?

“Of course we are, Reese. But—”

“No buts.” He raised both eyebrows, as if he wanted to be sure I was listening before he continued. “I’ve missed you, Charlie. I’ve missed you more than I can even say. It’s been over a decade since we were last together, and now I’m back. Now, we can be friends again.” He swallowed. “I don’t have many of those nowadays. Please. Be my friend.”

My heart broke for him, for that young boy who used to live next door, now a grown man without a family to go home to. My parents were the closest thing he had to that now, and I realized distantly that I fell in that same category.

For Reese, I was a piece of home.

And, truthfully, he was a piece of home for me, too. I thought that was a bad thing, something I needed to distance myself from, but why couldn’t we be friends? Why couldn’t I have him in my life again?

I cared about Reese. I always would. And just as he needed a friend, so did I.