He shook his head. “No. I don’t want you to leave. Trust me, that’s the last thing I want.”
“But…?”
“But Reid… I’m not sure I trust myself around you if we’re alone.”
There. That was exactly the reaction I’d been hoping for. The look of longing was clear as day on Ollie’s face as he held himself back, like he thought it was the right thing to do, when it was not at all what I wanted. Not anymore.
Even though the plan had been to launch myself at him, I needed to set his mind at ease. I wanted him to know exactly where I stood, and that me coming over wasn’t some hair-trigger decision I’d regret in the morning.
Giving him some space, I turned and walked down the hall, and when I saw the piano sitting lonely in the corner, I headed straight for it.
“You bought this for me,” I said, remembering what my mom had told me.
“Yes.”
“For me,” I murmured, spreading my hands out over the top. “Because you wanted to make me happy. Because you believe in me.” I looked up. “Because you…care…about me?”
He stared at me and then nodded, and when he did, a slow melody filled my mind. I walked over and lifted the fallboard. Standing there, I played the notes as I heard them.
“That’s my favorite,” Ollie said quietly.
“You know this one?”
He nodded and came toward me. “You’ve played it for me before.”
“I have?” I played a little more, and the song that came out was a tender love song, sweeter than any I could recall. “This reminds me of you.”
“You said that too.”
I looked up. “I wrote it for you?”
He only smiled, but that smile unlatched something inside me. Something that was ready to belong to someone else. My heart.
“Ollie, I…I’ve never felt this way before. Not about anyone, and certainly not about a man,” I said. “That’s part of the reason why I held back from you even though I knew the way you made me feel. I couldn’t understand why I looked at you differently, but it all makes sense now. The memories I’ve been having lately, of our time together before my surgery…I felt so… I don’t know. Almost carefree. Which is strange, because I should’ve been anything but.” I looked down at where my fingers still moved across the keys, almost of their own accord. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Did it seem like I was happy to you after my accident? Not remembering? Having a fresh slate. No baggage to weigh you down or keep you up all night?”
He took his time answering. “It certainly seemed that way. You still struggled, so it wasn’t easy. You had worries for different reasons. I will say that it always surprised me how easygoing you were, and how open you seemed, not only to me, but navigating your new normal. But were you happier? I can’t answer that for you, but from the outside looking in, you came off that way.”
“I’ve thought about that a lot over the last couple of weeks. Because the thing about remembering is that you also remember everything that’s been ingrained in you for years. Everything others say is right or wrong, habits you’ve picked up, whether good or bad. Memories can make you realize how unhappy you were. And before my accident? I was miserable.”
Ollie’s eyes were full of sympathy as he leaned against the side of the piano.
“That’s what waking up after surgery was like,” I said. “Like I’d had the most incredible dream only to find out it wasn’t real. It wasn’t until you came around that my world came back to life.”
He sucked in a breath, and I stopped playing and folded my arms on top of the piano.
“Do you want to know what I’m more upset about than anything?” I said.
“Tell me.”
“It’s that I don’t remember our first time,” I said, staring at his lips as he bit down on them, and then I slowly perused his body. That corded neck, his strong shoulders, the tattoos that wound around his forearm. “I remember other times with you, but not our first. I don’t remember how it started or where it happened. If I was the one who made the first move, or if it was you.”
“That just means you get a new first,” he said, his voice dropping an octave as he pushed off the piano and came to stand in front of me. His eyes had dilated like the idea of giving me another first excited him, but he wasn’t going to push me. But screw that—I wanted him to push me.
“Ollie,” I whispered, placing my hand on his chest. The muscle there was so firm, and it made me want to trail my fingers down to the other parts of him to remember how hard he was everywhere.