~Taste the pain right on my tongue
Novocaine to make me numb~


?Thanks for this.? Caitlin gestured to the violin case hugged tightly in her arms.

They were standing on her porch with the sun coming up behind them, peeking over the buildings across the street. She looked exhausted. It was a little endearing.

?No problem. It doesn?t get much use now that I?m spinning. We can work out a payment plan or whatever next time I see you or something. I trust you not to disappear with it. Besides,? Blake winked, looking up from her face to observe the looming Brownstone. ?I know where you live now.?

Cait chuckled quietly, rocking up onto her toes. Her feet were bare and he was holding the red high heels for her. She?d suffered through their pinching until it was time to walk home from breakfast. ?It will be well loved. I?ve never had an electric one before, so I?m really excited about it.? She bit her lip and turned to open her door. From the corner of her eye, he placed her shoes on the wide cement half wall that encircled the porch.

?See you next time I?m spinning?? Reluctantly, he descended a couple stairs slowly, still facing her.

?Yeah,? Caitlin glanced over her shoulder. Disappointment flickered across her face. Then she smiled. ?Thanks for walking me home, Blake.?

He looked a little disappointed, too. ?Sure thing, Caitlin.? He watched her open the door and set the violin case just inside. He turned to leave, but thought better of it a few seconds later and jogged back up the steps.

?Cait??

She?d turned to face him expectantly. ?Yeah??

?Am I...was I just imagining things tonight? I kind of thought maybe??

?Blake,? she cut him off and he hurried to do the same.

?I?m not trying to push anything. I just wanted you to know I had fun tonight. You seemed to be really having fun, too. At the bar and then at breakfast. But then walking you back home you sort of shut down. I just want to make sure I?m not getting my lines crossed.?

?You?re not imagining things. I was having fun. A lot, actually.? Her expression was apologetic, arms folding one over the other across her chest. ?I?ve just got too much baggage to keep it up. If you?re looking for anything with me, it?s probably a mistake.?

Blake?s mouth formed a small frown. Taking a step closer, he put his hands in his pockets and nodded at her left hand. ?Anything to do with that ring you wear??

She didn?t have to look down to know he meant the engagement ring and not the one on her forefinger. Brown eyes surveyed the man before her. She thought about Kyle and Zee. And then Cris and the advice he?d shared. ?If you want to come in, maybe I can explain a little better.? Not waiting for his answer, she stepped across the threshold.

He followed her inside.

?I?m just going to get changed really quick. The living room?s in there, feel free to look around.? And then she disappeared.

Blake thought her behavior was a little unorthodox, but then, she wasn?t like most girls he met. He?d known that from the first time they talked. Figuring he had nothing better to do, he took her advice and wandered from the foyer into the living room. The fireplace on the far wall drew your attention immediately and that?s where he headed, blue eyes scanning all the picture frames crammed onto the mantle.

Caitlin with a blond. A few by herself. One that looked like Caitlin as a child in front of a Christmas tree. And all the others were of her and a man with long hair. He was a little shocked to find his face familiar. Though he?d never met him, Blake remembered Deacon?s face being in the papers a couple months ago. Something about an attack.

He turned to the second eye-catcher in the room: the upright in the corner. It wasn?t anything special, but one touch of an ivory key told him it was well kept and in tune. On top there was another picture of Deacon in a silver frame and next to it a program from a funeral with his name on the top. He picked it up just as Caitlin came into the living room again.

?Dead fiance?s aren?t the kind of baggage most people like to deal with.?

Surprised to hear her, Blake dropped the paper and spun around. She was in a pair of sweatpants and a form-fitting long sleeved shirt. She headed towards him slowly, coming to a stop right next to him. He looked back at the picture. ?How long?s it been??

?A little over a month, give or take. There wasn?t a body, so we don?t know exactly when it happened.?

?I?m sorry for your loss.? Lifting a hand, he touched her back. Caitlin continued to stare at the photo, even after he turned to look at her. He could see it now. She?d put up a good front all the other times they?d hung out. Even now, she was trying to act like it didn?t hurt as much as it did. She was broken. And he wanted to fix her.

?Thanks,? Caitlin sighed. Everyone said that to her when they heard the news.

?Play me something.? Her eyebrows knit together. Confused, Caitlin glanced up at him briefly, then back down at the piano.

?Right now??

?Yeah.?

?What do you want me to play?? She bent to pull the bench out and sat down on the edge of it, brushing her hands across the keys.

?Tell me what you?re feeling,? he told her quietly, placing his hands on her shoulders.

Long, slender fingers positioned themselves over the keys, then began manipulation after she drew in an unsteady breath. A thoughtful, pensive melancholy tune filled the room. Blake listened intently, head bowed, eyes closed. Every so often, he squeezed her shoulders when a particular set of notes really resonated with him. But after a few minutes, it was starting to sound stale.

The bench creaked as he added his own weight to it, sitting behind her with a leg on either side so he was pressed right up against her back. Her hands fell away from the keys, but Blake caught her wrists and lifted them back to their position. ?Don?t stop,? a soft whisper in her ear. Then he placed his hands on her waist. ?Keep playing. Be honest with yourself, Caitlin.?

?I was being honest.?

?I think you can dig deeper than that.?

She started again and the melancholic tune resumed. But soon the timbre of it changed. The notes grew sharper and strident, the tone dropping much lower. It was darker. Depressing. Heavy. Blake?s hands slid from her hips to her stomach.

?What are you feeling, Caitlin?? He asked again, lips brushing against her ear. ?Show me.?

The angry music morphed into a disjointed, discordant, piercing tune.

?Pain,? he guessed correctly, still whispering right in her ear. She nodded in confirmation and let her fingers fall away from the keys. This time he didn?t stop her or urge her to continue. ?I can fix that, you know?? Now she looked at him, head turning in an attempt to see his face. ?The hurt,? he went on. ?I could numb you to everything else if you just let me.?

She didn?t know why she believed him. She just did. Lips parted, a question on the tip of her tongue. But his hand was cupping the side of her face now, fingers curling gently around the back of her neck.

His head dipped.
Her eyes closed.
And they were kissing.