“Mostly, yeah.”
“Well, I know you’re not sick. I mean, you don’tgetsick.”
“No, I’m just…distracted. Long story.”
She studied him a moment. She seemed to want to ask for the story, unsure if he’d mind.
He shrugged. “Claire and I got into a fight this weekend. I think we can fix it”—did he? Yeah, he did. Believed in Claire. Believed in Peter’s faith that they belonged together—“but we haven’t yet, and it’s just…”
“If anyone can fix a relationship, you can,” Holly said.
He gave a low laugh. “Thanks for the confidence.”
Before he left, he went back to his office and shut the door. He opened the small fridge that now stood in a corner, a request Holly had no problem agreeing to. It was part of his new strategy, and he didn’t mind admitting it was already makinga difference to slake before driving home from work instead of after. He hadn’t felt the needles across his skin in weeks. He no longer had to fight the thirst for that one extra minute before giving himself permission to slake. Little by little, he was shifting his body’s schedule to slake in the mornings instead, first thing rather than last. Peter said most bloodfiends coped better on this schedule, but it would take time to make the change.
Tai broke the seal on a bag and drained it quickly. The usual surge of energy flooded his body, and he drew a deep breath and let it out. Hewasgetting better. He could feel it every day, not only his body but his mind too. He was beating down old shame.
He discarded the bag in the sealed trash can beside the fridge and in another few minutes was in his car, driving across town. He kept gym clothes in his trunk, and if he texted Ryker, the man would likely show up for him, spar through multiple matches until the weight on Tai lifted. But Ryker was an occupied newlywed now, and Tai wasn’t sure he could talk about the breakup anyway. Wasn’t sure sparring was the way to process this particular pain.
He found himself taking an exit that put him in the center of downtown. He parked at the garage where he had a yearly pass and began to walk. Past five o’clock now, the sidewalks were well populated. He passed a few of his favorite shops and restaurants with hardly a glance, destination surer the closer he came.
The little bell above the door tinkled as Tai stepped into his favorite art gallery. He hadn’t been here since the bachelor/ette party months ago. The bright lights were a little much today, a sign he was tired, would sleep hard tonight. Based on the scents that greeted him as he stepped in, most of the guests were human with a few vampires in the mix.
Tai walked the gallery with his mind half elsewhere. Two full days without a word from Claire. He forced himself to focus on the art, stood before paintings and sculptures and photography,let them enfold him. By the time he reached the aisle that featured Mariah Davis’s musical instrument creations, he’d re-centered his thoughts.
He lingered over the same works—the flute that melted into an ocean, the violin that sprang up and rooted down like a tree. Ryker had been right when they’d last stood here: Tai should own one of these pieces. He wasn’t sure where he’d place it, but he’d decide once he had it home.
His eyes traveled over the exhibit, seeking the one that had struck him most deeply last time, wondering if it still would. The violin that poured brass butterflies. Where was it?
It was gone. Sold. A plaque still adorned the wall beside its empty stand—the price of the piece along with its title.Melody from an Open Hand.
He hadn’t noticed the title before, but it was exactly right, exactly how creativity had always felt to him. He couldn’t grasp tightly to his music or he would crush it, just as he would crush a butterfly. He had to keep himself open no matter how that hurt. He had to let the music fly free, even if that meant sometimes it escaped him altogether. And all this would remain true no matter what happened between him and Claire.
A deep sigh seeped out of him. He’d lost the chance to own this work.
In a little while he wound his way back toward the exit. Being here had soothed his heart. A better remedy than sparring, at least today.
“Thank you so much.”
His habitual tuning out of voices in public came crashing down at the sound of hers. Tai froze one aisle from the front door. Claire…was here.
“Have a great day,” said the gallery manager.
“You too.”
Tai turned the corner and faced the doors just as Claire left the small line at the manager’s desk. At the sight of him, she clasped her shopping bag close and stared with wide eyes that flashed gray before returning to purple. Heck. She really did not want to see him.
“What are you doing here?” she blurted.
Tai spread his hands. “In a public place open to the public?”
“Sorry, that came out wrong, but I didn’t think I’d… This is all wrong. This isn’t how I planned it.”
“Planned what?”
Claire shook her head as if the very sight of him were throwing her world off its axis. Slowly her arms fell to her sides, her left hand keeping hold of the shopping bag’s ribbon handles.
He nodded to it. “Make a purchase?”
