Happy.
Healthy.
Together.
thirteen
IT WAS TWO weeks later when I woke up in the middle of the night to an empty bed and the caressing sounds of a piano lullaby playing. For a few minutes, I lay there, content to listen as sleep hovered at the edges, but soon my desire to see Reid and make sure he was okay overpowered any need to close my eyes again. I pushed off the covers and put on a pair of sweatpants before padding down the hall.
The house was dark, the world outside still sleeping, and when I passed the clock, the time read 3:00 a.m. Since Reid had been staying over more often than not now—all the while telling his parents he’d gone back to his apartment—he said he hadn’t suffered any of the nightmares that plagued him on a regular basis, waking him up out of a dead sleep. I hoped tonight hadn’t been any different, but he’d also never gotten up to play before. That was the main reason I’d left the warmth of the bed: I needed to check on my man.
Staying in the shadows, I leaned against the door that led into the kitchen, not wanting to disturb him, but close enough to see him. Illuminated only by the moonlight filtering in through the slats in the blinds, Reid sat at the piano with his eyes closed, his body softly swaying along as he played.
The minutes passed, and every now and again he’d stop, pick up the pen lying on top of the piano, and jot something down before continuing or starting over to play it through, and all the while I stayed silent, taking the moment to just look at him. He hadn’t dressed before coming out here; his chest was bare and he wore only a pair of boxer briefs. From where I stood, I could see the strong muscles in his shoulders and arms tensing and flexing beneath the smooth ivory expanse of his skin as he played. I knew what it was like to run my tongue along the ridges and curves there, how firm his body felt under my lips. How firm his cock felt as he pushed past my lips, too—a grin tipped my lips at the thought.
Reid’s hair had grown back fast, and it was now the same length it had been back when we were strangers. But where he used to brush it into a meticulous, perfectly styled do, now he mussed it with his fingers in a wake-up-and-go style that suited him—and I didn’t have to tell him I preferred the mussed, just-fucked look best. Considering that whenever he was around, I could never stop myself from threading my fingers through the strands and drawing him toward me, I had a feeling he could tell, and that was why he continued to wear it that way.
When he saw me standing in the doorway, the music stopped.
“Did I wake you?” he asked.
“Not at all.” I shook my head and stepped into the room. “I want you to play whenever you feel like it.”
“I’m sure you didn’t mean at three a.m.,” he said with a smile, as his fingers moved over the keys again.
“I meant anytime.” Crossing over to him, I smiled and then leaned over the piano to give him a kiss. He hummed in the back of his throat.
“It wasn’t a nightmare tonight, was it?”
“Not tonight. I woke up with an idea of how to end a song I’ve been working on, and I didn’t want to forget.”
“The one you were playing just now?”
“Yeah. Do you like it?”
“It’s my favorite. You played it the night we found the music store downtown.”
He smiled. “It reminds me of you. The way you feel. The way youmakeme feel.” He started the slow melody again from the top. “Safe…treasured…home.”
“I’m glad I make you feel that way.” I settled my upper body on top of the piano with my chin on my arms and let my eyes fall closed as he played. I couldn’t fathom a more beautiful sound in the world. If he wanted to play every night, there would be nothing more that I’d want to wake up to.
Nothing more than the man himself, that was.
Abruptly, the music stopped, and when I opened my eyes, I saw Reid’s head down, and his forehead screwed up tightly.
“Are you okay?”
When Reid’s head shot up, he smoothed his face and then gave me a small smile. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, getting to his feet.
“You don’t have to stop.”
“No, I think I’ve got it now.” He scribbled something in the notebook and then tossed the pen on top of it. “Sometimes I have to get it out. But I’m tired now. Ready to go back to bed with you,” he said, taking my outstretched hands. I drew him in close, nuzzling my face into the warmth of his neck.
“It’s one of my favorite things in the world, listening to you play.”
“You’re biased.”
“I’m not.” I brushed a kiss below his ear. “Just lucky.”