Page 33 of The Sound of Forever
Her voice tightens, and she looks down at her hands. “Recovering from that wasn’t just physical. It was grueling in every way you can imagine. I had to rebuild myself, figure out how to trust my own instincts again. Walking away from my job and from him was the hardest and best decision I ever made.”
I don’t say anything, letting her have the space to tell her story without interruption.
“That was when I decided to change everything,” she says, her voice steadier now. “I threw myself into therapies and ways to be different from who I was back then. I found trauma-informed yoga. It helped me not only physically, but mentally. Once I was strong enough, I wanted to help others, show them how to reconnect with themselves after a grueling accident or . . .”
“That’s . . . impressive,” I say finally, my voice rougher than I intended. “Most people don’t have the guts to make a change like that.”
She looks at me, her eyes steady. “Most people don’t have to lose everything to realize they’re not living the life they want.”
The way she says it, so matter-of-fact, sends a jolt through me. I’ve spent so long trying to rebuild my old life, living in self-pity because I might never betheKeane Stone I was before the accident. And this woman just showed me how easy it is just to step into the unknown. Reshape your entire life and challenge yourself to become someone else.
“That’s quite the shift from corporate life,” I state. “Not sure if I could . . . I don’t even know what I can do if I can’t have my old life back.”
“It’s different, that’s for sure. But it feels . . . right. Like I’m finally doing something that matters,” she states. “What is it that you used to do? What brought you here?”
“Needed a change of scenery, so my brother wouldn’t see me wasting away because I couldn’t go back to the old me,” I say finally, keeping my voice neutral.
She tilts her head, studying me. “That’s a nice way of saying you’re running from everyone and you don’t want to confront your present.”
I glance at her, caught off guard by the bluntness of her words. She doesn’t flinch under my gaze. It’s disarming, the way she looks at me like she’s not afraid of what she might find.
“Maybe,” I admit, the word feeling heavier than it should. “Or maybe I just needed some quiet.”
“Quiet can be dangerous,” she says, her voice soft but pointed. “Sometimes it makes you listen to things you’ve been trying to ignore. Other times, you fill the silence with lies. Lies that don’t allow you to move forward.”
She’s right, of course. The quiet here doesn’t drown out the past. It amplifies it. Silence tells me I’m a fucking loser who doesn’t deserve to have a life.
“You’re good at that,” I say, my tone gruffer than I intend. “Getting under people’s skin.”
“It’s not about getting under your skin.” She smiles. “It’s about understanding what’s beneath it.”
“You’re different,” I say finally, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
“Good different or bad different?” she asks, her lips quirking into a teasing smile.
“Not sure yet,” I admit.
“Well, while you’re deliberating, why don’t you come over every morning and join me for yoga? It might help you figure out how to move forward,” she says it so easily.Come over, we’ll figure it out.
Can I ever figure anything out? Make a life for myself?
ChapterThirty-Six
Julianna
One momentI’m baring my soul to Keane and the next Rayne’s cries pierce the air. The sound is intense and unrelenting, cutting through the stillness of the night like glass shattering. Her voice sends a jolt through me, and I’m already halfway to her room before I even realize I’ve moved.
My hands tremble as I fumble with the handle, the sobs on the other side tearing me apart. My breath catches when I finally get the door open, and I find her curled in the corner of her bed, clutching her bunny so tightly I’m afraid the seams might burst.
“Rayne,” I whisper, kneeling at the edge of the bed. My voice shakes, no matter how hard I try to keep my composure. This is about her, not me falling apart because I can’t seem to be able to help her. “It’s okay. It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here.”
She doesn’t respond. Her small chest rises and falls rapidly with each sob, and her tiny frame trembles like a leaf caught in a storm. I reach for her slowly, carefully, but the moment my hand brushes her shoulder, she jerks away, burying her face into her bunny’s matted fur.
The helplessness hits me like a punch in the gut. No matter how much I want to help her, she keeps locking me out, retreating into herself.
“Is she okay?” Keane’s voice comes from behind me, low and concerned.
I glance back at him, his figure framed in the doorway. The sight of him should feel reassuring, but all I feel is frustration and exhaustion.
