Page 93 of Torn
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On if you’re one of the options.”
“You’re so naughty, Kenzi.” He shakes his head and leans away.
“I refuse to consider Sailor in any way. Even for a game. Youhave my heart, and you know it. We can sit here and make a list of all the wrongs but it still won’t change how I feel, Tor.”
“Trust me, I know the feeling.”
The song ends and Tor stands up. “I’m going to do something special, just for you,” he says, and I watch with curiosity as he goes up to my dad, says a few words, then takes the guitar from Sailor, shooing him out of the gazebo like he’s a puppy.
My father is all smiles as Tor drags a stool closer to him and then begins to play one of their oldest songs that my parents and Tor wrote together when they were teens.
To the best of my knowledge, Tor hasn’t played in front of people since he left the band years ago. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t play alone because the guitar case in his closet never looks like it’s been moved. But the way he’s playing the guitar so fluidly and perfectly right now is like he never stopped.
Sailor has taken the chair beside me that Tor just vacated, which I’m sure is only going to further agitate Tor’s suspicion that Sailor might be interested in being more than friends, but I can’t ask him not to sit with me.
“Whoa,” Sailor says. “No one’s heard Toren Grace play in years.”
“I know,” I say, not taking my eyes off the man who owns my heart and is now recapturing a dream he gave up, just to give me a glimpse of himself that I never got to see.
“He was one of my inspirations when I was younger,” Sailor continues. “Storm is great, too; they just have very different playing styles.”
My dad’s brother Storm took Tor’s place in the band after he had to leave when his father passed away, and Sailor is right—Storm is super talented and the fans love him. He slipped into the band with ease without causing a disruption to their songs. I’mstill a little perplexed and slightly disappointed that everyone in my family has amazing musical talents except me.
The next song they play is the song that put them on the map and launched the band’s popularity. It’s a ballad about losing your first love, and while I’m sure I’ve heard it at least a thousand times, this slimmed down acoustic version is raw and intimate, sending chills down my spine. I’ve always known Tor wrote this song, but before today I never wondered if there’s personal inspiration behind it. Now it’s got me thinking. Other than Sydni, who has broken his heart? He didn’t start dating Sydni until my mother introduced them, which was after this song was written. Was there someone else along the way he’s never talked about? Or is it simply just a well-written, emotional song?
They play two more songs, and I’m practically hypnotized watching Tor play. I grew up watching musicians, quite a few were friends of my dad or other bands they toured with, but there is something erotic about watching a man you’re attracted to play the guitar. The sensual words he typed in our text messages are on repeat in my mind as I watch his fingers move over the strings, wondering how they would feel touching me. That day he kissed me on the couch was the first and only time he ever put his hands on my body in any kind of sexual way, but the memory of the possessive way he pulled me onto him and the burn of his hand on the flesh of my lower back makes my insides quiver.
Later, my father and my grandmother bring out a huge cake blazing with candles and my dad sings a rocked-out version of “Happy Birthday” to me like he does every year. A few people have left cards and gifts for me, but thankfully my father doesn’t make meopen them all in front of everyone like I’m five. I’d rather open them in private and then send handwritten thank-you cards to everyone.
As it gets late, our guests start to filter out, most of them coming to hug me and wish me happy birthday before they leave. I’ve been so caught up talking to everyone that I didn’t get a chance to thank Toren for playing guitar for me. I walk around the backyard trying to find him, and finally walk around to the front to see if his truck or bike is still here, and my heart takes a nosedive when I see him standing by his truck with Sydni. I try to look away, but I can’t. They’re standing closer than friends would be, and her hands are on his chest, but not pushing him away. His arm is resting on the truck next to her head, as if he’s going to lean down to kiss her. I so wish I could read lips because I can’t hear what they’re saying from where I stand hidden among the manicured bushes at the side of the house.
I jump when he suddenly slams his fist against the truck, and she pulls her hands away from him.
They’re fighting.
I turn to walk away and trip over part of the stone landscape. When I look back, he’s looking right at me. Our eyes lock and flash for a brief moment before I tear mine away.
Crap.
I beeline into the house, embarrassed at being caught spying on him. Could I be any more immature? Trying to avoid the guests in our kitchen, I go down the other hallway and run right into Tor, who must have come in through the front door. Grabbing my arm, he quickly and discreetly steers me into the laundry room and closes the door behind us.
I stare up at him, trying to catch my breath from walking too fast. Or maybe from being so close to him in this small space.
“What were you doing out there?” he asks. “Eavesdropping? That’s not like you, Kenz.”
I shake my head and try to find my voice. “No. I was looking for you so I could say good night and thank you for playing the songs for me. I haven’t seen you play since I was a little girl. I guess I just wasn’t expecting to see you with Sydni. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
Backing up a few inches, he glances down at my legs. “You skinned your knee.” He grabs a paper towel from a shelf next to the washing machine, runs some cold water on it from the sink, and kneels in front of me.
He gently dabs at my knee with the paper towel, then tosses it into the trash. I wait for him to stand, but he remains kneeling in front of me, his hand on the spot behind my knee. Tor has fixed many boo-boos for me over the years, and maybe he’s thinking of all those times, like I am right now. We’ve reached that odd moment again where the lines of who we are to each other have been blurred.
More like obliterated.