How To Save A Life (29 page)

The
police request I go in to give a formal statement, and it's hard. It's so much harder than when I talked to them about what happened to Mum and I at the lake, because this time, every word brings vivid flashbacks, shocks of pain that hurt every little piece of me.

When I told them about the lake, it was fiction. It was me creating a new world for myself. And it saved my mother. All she got was a negligent driving charge, and a fine, even if rumours did spread about just how much of an accident the crash really was.

When I told them about Smith, it was too real. The kind of reality that eats away at you, and makes you want to lose faith in humanity again.

He'd been charged with assault and attempted rape, as well as attempted grievous bodily harm. The papers reported his attack on a 'local woman'—note how I was no longer a teen—who wished to remain unidentified. They also detailed the suspicious circumstances surrounding his own daughter's death, and I cried so many nights as I wondered, the what ifs floating around my brain on a loop.

It’s just on three days home from school, and even though the timing was crucial, and our final exams were just one week away, I had no motivation. What was the point? What was the point when I'd already lost everything?

"Sweetie, are you okay?" Mum asks, coming to sit beside me on the couch. The TV blares mindlessly in the background, but I don't see the pictures moving on screen. The only thing I see is Jase.

I don't know when it happened, but at some point, I changed my mind. The pain I feel about the piano—it's not to do with missing my scholarship opportunity. It's about losing that piece of me. That piece of me that connected Jase and I together.

Before, I needed to run. I had to escape this town, the memories it held. I had to try and protect my reputation, stop the world from connecting me with my drunken mother.

Now, though? Now I'm stronger than that.

And I know I have Jase to thank for it. Even though we'll never be together, I don't feel that desperate need to leave anymore. You can't run away from your feelings. They'll catch up to you. And you have to face them eventually.

"Yeah." I shrug. I fold my blanket over my legs, even though it's warm out.

"Do I look okay?" Mum stands and twists from side to side. Her black pencil skirt stays firmly in her place, and her blue blouse swishes from side to side.

"Perfect." I smile. "Like the best assistant ever."

It's not hard to smile at Mum today. She has an interview for an admin assistant job down at the local unemployment office. I can only hope it’s the start of more good to come.

"Lee Lee ..." She hovers over the couch and sits down again. "I shouldn't have needed that wake-up call to stop."

The atmosphere changes from playful to solemn in an instant. I reach for the remote on the coffee table and turn off the TV. "Mum ..." I open my mouth to say more, but I realise I have nothing else to say. I can't just tell her it's fine, that it's all okay, because it's not. Three days of her being a candidate for Mother of the Year, bringing me food, ensuring I take the pain medication I'm supposed to—that's not enough.

It took me breaking completely to realise what she'd done. And now that I'm at my weakest, I'm at my strongest when it comes to her. And I can't just forget the last eighteen months of my life.

"I don't expect you to forgive me. But I'm trying, my baby. And I won't stop."

She stands and walks toward the door, grabbing my keys on the way out. "Bye, Lee Lee."

Her hand twists the doorknob, and there's such a look of hopelessness on her face that I have to say something. I can't let her go like this. Because while we might not be okay now, we will be.

I have every faith in that.

"Good luck," I call out, a smile twisting my lips. "Knock 'em dead."

Instantly, I wince at my poor choice of words. There's been enough death and pain in this family to last us a lifetime.

Mum just laughs though, and shoots me a grin and a wink. "You got it, baby!"

***

I don't know when I fell asleep, but I do. I dream of pianos and broken hearts, and fish that swim around your ankles and try to pull you down. Then the fish are big, the size of bowling balls, and they're throwing themselves at our front door, shaking the house.

Bang, bang, bang, bang

"Go away, fishies," I mumble.

Bang, bang, bang

"Hello?"

Wait. Fish don't talk.

My eyes flicker open, and I realise at some point my dream has morphed with reality as someone is definitely trying to bash down the door.

"Delivery for Lia Stanton," the voice cries again.

"Just a second," I call, throwing the blanket aside. I swipe at my hair and push it back on either side of my head. It's kind of sweaty and obediently gets out of my face as I stumble toward the door, adjusting my too-short shorts and oversized tee as I go.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror and snort. My makeup-free face and slept-in hair look atrocious. Here's hoping I don't smell as gross as I look, or the poor delivery guy is going to get the shock of his life.

"Ah well," I mumble, and swing open the door.

And am greeted by a piano.

A big, black, beautiful Steinway & Sons piano.

That is rolling toward me.

"Crap! Grab it!" A man races around the front of the instrument and slams his body in front of it, stopping it from impaling the doorway and running me down.
Death by runaway piano.
Wouldn't that be just my luck?

"Sorry, ma'am." The guy dips his head. He's dressed casually in jeans and a tee, a broad smile plastered across his face. "Are you Lia?"

"I—"

"Troy! Shut it."

That voice.

That freaking voice.

My heart leaps to my throat and I grab at the doorway for support, because my knees don't seem to be keen on being members of my bone structure any longer.

"I was just curious! She's a hot—uh, you're real pretty, ma'am." The guy dips his head, his cheeks turning red.

"He doesn't have much of a filter."

My heart starts up again, racing along at the speed of light because
he
steps out from behind the piano. His hair is scruffy, those brown locks glowing as the afternoon sun plays along them, and his jaw is covered in a layer of stubble. His arms—those muscles ooze from his sleeveless tee, and I suck in a breath at the sight of all that glorious golden skin.

What warms me though is his smile, his big, all-encompassing smile that makes me feel as if everything might be okay after all.

Even if there is a cut to the side of his lip.

"Jase ..." I open my mouth to say something else, but shake my head instead. I can't believe he's here. He's at my house.

With a piano ...?

"What's this?"

"It's a piano—"

"Not what I meant."

"Oh! He's what we like to call a bogan. Honestly, Troy's not that bad. He’s—"

"Jason ..."

"Oh, she's brought out the big guns, bro." Troy laughs, looking over his shoulder. "Might be time to stop foolin' around."

At the words 'fooling around', something flashes through Jase's eyes, and heat washes through me. There's no denying that my body sure wants to fool around with him, too.

"Lia." Jase takes four steps toward me. They're only four steps, but they cover so much emotional ground.

"Jase," I breathe. I reach out to touch his arm, running my hand down over his biceps. I can barely believe he's here, right in front of me.

"I'm gonna go wait in the truck," Troy mumbles, or maybe he shouts it and I don't hear it because I am so lost in Jase's eyes, those beautiful golden brown orbs that have stolen the rest of existence out from around us.

He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, then licks his lips. His lower one glistens in the sun, and I think what it would be like to kiss it. To press my mouth against his in a fit of passion.

Then my gaze touches on that cut again, and I force myself to stop. Because I did that. I hurt him and I lied. And even though he's here right now ... no. I have no idea why he's here.

"Lia, I ... I wanted to apologise. Again."

"Apologise?" My jaw drops open, and I'm sure you could roll that damn piano in there it's dropped so low.

"Yeah." Jase shoves his hands into his pockets. "I ... I flew off the handle that day. About your age, and ..."

"I shouldn't have lied." I shake my head so quickly it swims. "I didn't realise how much I was putting you at risk. How your whole bar could have been jeopardised."

"I'm not going to pretend I don't think it was a lousy thing to do. But me reacting the way I did, yelling at you in front of your friends? That wasn't cool either."

There's so much honesty in his eyes. So much truth there. And I want to lay mine on the line, too.

"Jase, I get it. I absolutely screwed up. I am so sorry ..."

“You’re sorry?” He gives a small laugh. “And to think, I put off coming here because I thought you’d be pissed with me.”

“No! Oh God, no. I shouldn’t have lied …”

"But I get why you did it." He gives a sexy half-smile. "I mean, I did kinda harass you into working for me."

"And I repaid you by getting you beaten up." I whisper the words, and reach out a shaking hand to touch the scar by his mouth. He brings his hand up to meet my own, holding it there and then kissing my knuckles slowly, his intense molten gaze never once breaking contact with mine.

"You don't know how glad I am you called," he says, his voice a low growl. "It went to voicemail, but we had a lull so I listened. When I heard your scream ..." Anger flares over his features, then he schools them back to normal. "I needed you to call me, Lia. I would never let anyone hurt you. I'm just sorry I got there too late."

Tears prickle at my eyes as I raise my broken hand and rest it on his shoulder. "Jase ... I'm so sorry."

"Never." He leans in and kisses my tears away, a gesture so sweet and caring that I melt into his hold when his arms loop around my waist and he pulls me to his strong, broad chest. "Lia, I want you. I want you so much, but I can't handle the lies. This isn't a game for me. You're ... you're the most amazing girl I've ever met."

This time the tears flow freely, and I pull back to tell him, "Never. All I have for you is honesty."

And I mean those words with all my being, my very heart and soul.

Maybe it's not just my mother turning over a new leaf.

"I know it might take a while for you to believe it, but if you give me a chance I'll prove it to you. I'll be so honest, you'll always know where you stand. I'll be so honest, you'll sometimes wish I wasn't! I'll be so honest, I—"

"Lia?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and kiss me."

And I do. I waste no time in bringing our mouths together, my lips colliding with his in a flurry of passion, of promise, and of truth. I give him all my emotion, all my love, and my honesty in that kiss. Our tongues tangle, and heat rushes through my body as I press myself against him. I want him to have all of me. He's imprinted on my soul.

Beeeeeeeeep

A horn blares, and we pull apart. My face flushes, and Jase turns his head to give Troy a glare. Troy's busy pissing himself laughing in the front seat of the truck cab, his hand still on the horn.

"How embarrassing," I mumble, and Jase grins.

"Nah, he's probably just jealous." His face turns serious once more, and he rests his hand on top of the piano behind him. "So, it seems I missed your eighteenth birthday."

No.

No, he
didn't
.

"And since it's a big one and all, I thought you deserved a big gift." At this, he steps alongside the piano and gestures up and down its length, in case I'd missed the giant black beauty behind him.

"Jase ..." I shake my head. He can't have. It's too much.

"It's my mother's—"

"I can't take her piano. She's ... no!" I can't imagine there's a lot of her things he still has, and I hate the thought that I'm taking one away.

"She'd want it to go to someone special. Someone who would make it sing like you will." He pauses, then looks at the ground before meeting my gaze again. "Someone I love."

My heart leaps to my throat at those three words. Electricity crackles between us. I can't believe this is happening. How did everything go from oh-so wrong to oh-so right in a matter of minutes?

"It's actually a two-part present," Jase continues, oblivious to the fact that I seem to have left earth and landed on cloud nine somewhere above us.

"Does it come with a really good-looking bar owner?" I try, my head cocked to the side.

"Kind of." He claps the piano once more on the top. His lips straighten to a line. He's serious. "It comes with a second-chance audition for the VCA scholarship. On the condition that if you accept, you let said bar owner visit. A lot."