Confusion pummels me. Why? Why would he feel responsible for me?

Forget that.

My chest rises. “Was it you?” I snap out. “Apparently I was all over you and I have no memory of it. Don’t think I missed anything.” I eye him up and down and scoff. I’m brave right now, so brave, because he…he looks as if he’s in some kind of internal war with himself.

He swallows and looks away from me, his throat bobbing. “I’m not…like …that. You aren’t the only one who doesn’t remember much from that night.”

I’m walking away when his voice reaches me, that tinge of anguish back. “Ava, wait.”

I ignore him, keeping my back to him as I hold my arm up and flip him off.

His next words make me freeze. “Knox hired a private investigator to look into that night. Nobody knows but me and our dad, but he followed up with him for three months, trying to get to the bottom of what happened, and I don’t even know why he cares except that he…” He trails off and I turn around.

“Why would he care so much?”

He shakes his head.

“Why?” I yell, putting steel in my voice.

He flinches. “Shit. Our mom was assaulted. Like you.”

The air is sucked out of the hallway and I gasp, my hands holding my chest. I study Dane’s face. “I didn’t know.”

“Hardly anyone does.” He stares at a point over my shoulder and clenches his fist, seeming to try to gather himself. He does a bad job of it because his hands shake as he stuffs them in his pants. “She was a pianist for the Nashville Symphony. She came out a side door at night after a concert to get to her car and two guys…they…they…” He takes a shuddering breath. “They broke her arm. Cracked ribs. She was in the hospital for a few days…” He gasps out, “They raped her and left her in an alley.”

Horror claws at my throat at those images, making me sick. I take deep breaths, trying to align this new information in my head and process what it means. “Dane…I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t really hear me, I think, or he doesn’t acknowledge it. He continues, the words sounding as if they’re being wrenched from him by force. “My dad kept most of it out of the papers, but that fear on her face when it got dark, when she’d double then triple-check all the doors in the house, when she’d sit and just look off into space…I saw that. Knox saw that. Once, in the middle of the night, she drove to where it happened and wandered around the streets in her nightgown and bare feet. She was never the same. My dad isn’t the same.” He closes his eyes and sighs heavily. “Fuck all of it.”

Then he’s edging past me, kicking open the door to the stairwell and disappearing.

Trying to wrap my head around the new information, I don’t even realize I’ve stepped into the dark auditorium, blinking to adjust to the change from the bright lights of the hallway.

Their mom was raped. Like me.

I can’t—I can’t think about it right now.

My eyes sweep over the cavernous space, taking in the plush new seats, the wide stage with deep black curtains on either side. Written up above in old-style Greek letters is Camden Prep. I focus on the stage, lingering on the spotlight equipment poised in the rafters, just waiting to bathe someone in light.

I settle down in one of the chairs and lay my head back, staring up at the heavy gold chandeliers that hang from the ceiling while I mull everything over. I don’t know how long I sit there before the adrenaline rush finally eases and exhaustion comes roaring back.

My lids feel heavy…

Strong arms carry me, tucking me inside a car. He murmurs something as he buckles my seat belt. Hands cup my cheeks and stare down at me, his gaze searching mine, a questioning look on his face. “Ava—”

The sound of a piano playing jolts me awake. Beautiful and flowing, the notes are a familiar tune, Demi Lovato’s “Skyscraper”, a song about a girl people think is made of paper but who is tough with her sharp lines; she’s a high-rise with broken windows but still standing, and no one can tear her down.

The player is skilled and intent, catching the low notes with the faster higher ones, the music executed with precision yet layered with emotion. Someone knows how to play. I ease up and stare toward the stage, at the black baby grand front and center.

I suck in a breath, feeling rocked. His head is tilted low, his fingers moving delicately and swiftly over the white and black keys. He’s dressed in that vented white practice jersey, his football pants on, ready for practice.

Not thinking much about what I’m going to say, I stand up and walk toward him.

He’s oblivious to me, the intensity of the notes he plays consuming him.

Who is Knox Grayson?

He ends the song and throws his head back, eyes closed as he drinks in those final notes, his lips slightly parted.

Clarity tiptoes in my head, my dream merging with the truth.

“You found me at the party.” My voice is low but enough to pop his eyes open.

He jerks up from the piano stool. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re playing my song.”

“It’s not your song.”

“It is!” I call out, my own confusion combined with what Dane told me pricking at me. “I sang it at the party and you were thinking about me when you played it so don’t pretend with me. You found me, put me in your car, and took me to Piper’s.” Placing my hands on the stage, I heave myself up and sit on the wooden floor, glaring at him. I’m not sure if I’m ready to rip his head off or hug him.

He just stares at me, emotion working his face, fists clenched, until he slowly shuts it down, composing himself with deep breaths. His gaze rips away from me. “How do you know I took you to Piper’s? I didn’t… You never contacted me or asked me.”

I cross my legs and tug at my skirt. “I just remembered it. It’s weird, the more time I spend at this place, the more the memories come.”

He buries his hands in his hair. “Ava…”

I swallow, looking away from his chiseled, beautiful features. It hurts how much he’s ignored me for the past two days, and now this.

“I’m glad you found me, okay, but you didn’t take me to the hospital. Maybe if you had, they might have found something in my system besides alcohol. I can’t be sure, but my gut says someone did do something to my drink. Maybe then everyone would believe me.”

He walks over and sits down next to me, keeping just enough distance between us so that he doesn’t touch me. Ha. I’m sick of that, for sure.

His face is troubled. “Ava…please believe me…I didn’t know you’d been assaulted. I saw you at the party earlier in the night, and I assumed you’d had too much when I found you.”

“Why did you come back?” I ask sharply.

“Dane.” He bends his head for a moment. “He doesn’t know when to stop, and I keep tabs on him. After I took Tawny home, I went back to look for him, but I found you. Just you.” He whispers out the last part. Grimness flashes over his face. “I didn’t know…how bad it was for you. It never entered my head that—”

“Didn’t you see that…” I stop, mentally pushing myself. “I didn’t even have underwear on!”