Hearts on Air (Hearts #6)

  The doctor engaged Trev by changing the subject. “Tell me about the first time you met Reya.”

  I stood very still, my back flush with the wall, my hands flat. I still couldn’t believe I was such a prominent figure in his therapy sessions. His doctor referred to me so familiarly, so they obviously discussed me often.

  “I was out with my brother. He was interested in Reya’s friend, Karla. They’re married now, but they were still getting to know each other then. I saw her dancing and I . . . I dunno, I just liked her face. There was something real kind about her eyes.”

  “And that kindness drew you to her?”

  “Well, yeah. But my brother asked me to keep her distracted while he hit on her friend, so that’s why I approached her. I asked if she wanted a drink and she got all shy, so I knew I couldn’t go with my usual chat-up lines.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I come on strong and would’ve only scared her off. Not that I wanted to score with her or anything; that came later.”

  “So you took a moment to gauge her demeanour, you considered the best course of action to take in befriending her, and then you set on your course.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Sound familiar?” the doctor asked, a lilt in his voice.

  “It sounds a little like some of the techniques you’ve been teaching me, yeah.”

  “It’s knowledge we all unconsciously possess, how to read people, how to react in different social situations. Some of us are simply better at it than others. And some people, such as yourself, need to consciously find those skills from within and use them instead of allowing the id to steer the wheel.”

  “The id?” Trev asked.

  “It’s the most basic part of the human personality. The id wants instant gratification rather than to work for a certain result. Imagine a child throwing a tantrum because they want ice cream now instead of waiting until after their dinner.”

  “Are you saying I’m like a toddler?” Trev commented, bemused.

  “I’m saying it’s your natural instinct to want things immediately. You want to be with Reya, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And if you were to go with your natural instinct, you might simply grab her and start kissing her.”

  Trev chuckled quietly. “Something like that.”

  “But if you were to do that, how would she react?”

  “Not well, I imagine.”

  “So, you need to resist the urge inside your head to take what you want, consequences be damned. If you are to build a lasting foundation, the id is not the part of the psyche that you should be listening to.”

  “Then what part should I be listening to?”

  “You listen to the ego.”

  Trev didn’t sound convinced. “My ego is what got me into this mess in the first place.”

  “I’m talking about the Freudian ego, Trevor, which is the second part of the psyche. It allows us to understand that if we take what we want right away, there will be consequences. We might upset people, or hurt them, and that won’t be beneficial for us in the long run.”

  I startled when the doorbell rang, jolting my rapt attention away from Trev’s therapy session. Although I wanted to continue listening, I didn’t want to get caught. Plus, I needed to go answer the door, because it was probably Isaac.

  I hurried down the hallway, greeting Isaac with an overly bright smile when I let him in. “Good morning. I hope you’re hungry.”

  “I’m nineteen. I’m always hungry,” he replied, returning my smile. “What’s up with you?”

  “With me? Nothing. Why?”

  “You seem a little . . . I dunno, buzzed.”

  I waved him away, even though my heart still pounded from what I’d overheard. Trev wanted to be with me. He’d wanted to be with me for years but kept things platonic for fear of losing me. “I just overslept. Do you like bruschetta?”

  “Never had it before, but I’m not picky.”

  “Okay, bruschetta it is then,” I chirped.

  “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound like my mum when she’s been snooping in my bedroom.”

  “I’m fine. And stop comparing me to your mum all the time. You’ll give me a complex. Now go grab a knife and help me chop these tomatoes.”

  He chuckled. “Now you really do sound like my mum.”

  I poked him in the side. “Hey! I’m not that old.”

  “What are you? Twenty-six? You’re practically ancient,” he teased.

  I narrowed my gaze. “You’re lucky I’m not the one holding the knife.”

  We worked together in quiet for a bit, while my mind was as loud as a motorway at rush hour. Too many thoughts filled my head. I couldn’t stop thinking about how Trev discussed me with his doctor. He discussed me regularly. And, he wanted us to be together, like together together. It was all so much to digest.

  Sure, he hadn’t exactly been coy about his feelings, but I didn’t know the true extent of them. Now I did. He wanted to grab me and kiss me when he saw me. The very notion made me blush right down to my toes.

  The thing that got me most was the idea that he wanted to rewind the clock, go back to how things used to be before everything got so complicated. But did I have it in me to take him back?

  One part of me felt like I did, especially since I now had my eyes open to his reasons for keeping me at an arm’s length. But another part refused to make things easy for him. That part wanted him to work for it, because in spite of everything, there were too many times when I’d simply acquiesced to his wants and ignored my own.

  Isaac, Neil and I were eating brunch when Trev finally emerged from his room. He eyed the three of us, though his gaze warmed substantially when he looked at me.

  Do you want to kiss me right now, Trevor?

  “I left a plate in the fridge for you if you’re hungry,” I said before taking a bite.

  He smiled softly and it lit a warm spark in my chest. “Thanks, Reyrey.”

  A little while later I settled myself on the couch to check my emails. I was delighted to see a new one from Marlene. I have a fan. I found at least a dozen attachments and started flicking through them. Her photos were incredible, definitely good enough to use on posters and flyers.

  I was lost in my head making plans when a curious voice asked, “Are those stripper poles?”

  I turned and Trev was leaning over the couch, his attention on my laptop screen. I wondered self-consciously how long he’d been watching me and tucked some hair behind my ear.

  “Uh, yeah. Last night I played at a burlesque club.”

  Trev hopped over the couch and landed beside me. He grabbed the laptop and began scrolling through the photos. “You secretive little mare. I can’t believe you didn’t let me come with you.”

  “I told you, I didn’t want any crew members tagging along.”

  He was quiet for a minute or two as he studied the pictures. Then he breathed, “These are beautiful, Reya. Who took them?”

  “A French girl who came to see me play. We spoke after my set and she offered to send me the pictures.”

  “Well, she’s bloody good, whoever she is. Can I email these to myself?”

  I bit my lip, shooting him a curious glance. “Why?”

  He turned to look at me, his expression serious. “Why not?”

  I was the first to look away, unable to handle the ferocity of his stare. Clearing my throat, I mumbled. “Sure, go ahead then.”

  He started tapping and then he handed the laptop back to me. “All done.”

  “Thanks. So, um, how are you feeling today?”

  “I’m good. Fine,” he answered, eyeing me shrewdly.

  “Oh, that’s . . . good.”

  Trev continued to study me and his brows arched ever so slightly. “Any reason why you’re asking?”

  I stiffened but shook my head. “Nope. Just, you know, being friendly.”

  I didn’t mean to put so much emphasis on ‘friendly’ and Trev appeared
suspicious. He stared at me for so long I was glad for my year-round tan, otherwise I would’ve gone read as red as a tomato. He looked as though he suspected I was hiding something.

  “Reya, is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

  I shook my head and tried to calm my breathing. “I don’t think so.”

  The door to the apartment opened and Leanne, Paul and James came barrelling in, returning from their morning of sightseeing. I was glad for the interruption, because if Trev kept staring at me I’d snap and blurt out the truth. I felt awful for my eavesdropping and wished I’d never done it now. His therapy sessions were private. Even if he was discussing me, I still had no right to listen.

  Things were weirdly tense between us for the rest of the day. The afternoon shoot took place in a public park next to a residential area just outside the city. The apartment buildings looked like they’d been built in the seventies and the park had lots of benches and high walls, with a long row of steps leading to one of the blocks.

  Trev and Callum were talking with Barry, who was making lots of animated hand gestures while he spoke. I spotted Paul reading as he sat on the grass next to a tree. Since things were still weird between Trev and me, I went and sat down beside Paul, figuring he was neutral territory.

  “What are you reading?”

  He glanced up and smiled, lifting the book for me to read the title. “‘The Art of Happiness’ by the Dalai Lama,” I said with an arched brow. “Not what I expected.”

  His lips twitched. “What did you expect?”

  I shrugged and looked across the park. Trev was still talking with Callum and Barry, but now his eyes were trained on Paul and me, his expression unreadable. “I don’t know. ‘I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell’ maybe?” I teased.

  “I think you’re mistaking me with Cal. I’m Paul, remember? I thought the red hair was a dead giveaway.”

  I laughed. “Right. Next time I’ll remember.”

  We shared a smile and his attention returned to his book. “Trev actually loaned me this.”

  That surprised me. The paperback looked well worn, like whoever owned it had read it several times. “He did?”

  “Yep. He’s been reading a lot of philosophy and stuff like that lately. I think it helps him look at things from a new perspective.”

  I mulled that one over but didn’t speak, though Paul was more than happy to fill the silence.

  “Did you know that when the next Dalai Lama is found, they have to go through all these tests to make sure he’s the real deal? He’s supposed to be a reincarnation of his predecessor, you see, so in one of the tests they present him with a collection of items, but only one of them belonged to the previous Dalai Lama. If he picks the correct item, they know it’s him. Crazy, right?”

  “Yep,” I said, amused by his enthusiasm. “Are you thinking of becoming a Tibetan Buddhist or something?”

  His smile widened but he shook his head and winked, “Nah, I’m far too wicked for that.”

  I chuckled, because he wasn’t wicked at all. In fact, he was one of the nicest people I’d met on this trip.

  “Although,” he went on, “the current Dalai Lama said there’s a chance his successor might be found in a country not under Chinese rule. So, ya know, technically I could be him.”

  “I’m not sure it works that way. If he’s reincarnated, then wouldn’t he have to be dead before you were born?”

  He shook his head, his expression playful. “Not necessarily. His soul could transmigrate.”

  “But then you wouldn’t be you anymore,” I countered, smiling because he was being cute and seemed to have an answer for everything. Funnily enough, Paul did have a sort of childlike sense of playfulness reminiscent of the Dalai Lama. It was mischief without malice.

  “Reya,” came a voice and I glanced up. Trev stood over us, his expression blank. Was he pissed I was talking to Paul? I realised belatedly how close we were sitting, our heads dipped together as we spoke.

  “Hey,” I said. “Is everything okay?”

  “I need you to run to the pharmacy and grab some Tiger Balm. We’ve run low and Cal’s shoulder is still bothering him.”

  “Oh, the chiropractor didn’t help?” I asked.

  “I’m on my way to the shops to pick up a few things,” Neil cut in, having overheard our conversation. “So I can grab the Tiger Balm for Callum.”

  Trev’s jaw firmed in irritation, but I didn’t completely get why he was in such a mood. He knew I didn’t fancy Paul, had even said so himself, so it shouldn’t bother him if we were talking. He grunted at Neil and stalked off. I watched as he joined Leanne, who was midway through a backflip while the crew filmed. The cameras immediately followed Trev as he ran up some steps, then climbed the wall to the tallest point. He braced himself on his hands when he reached the top, holding his entire body upside down, his feet in the air.

  My pulse sped as I watched him prepare to jump.

  Nineteen.

  “Trevor! Get down from there. It’s too high,” Barry called out.

  It was definitely higher than what he’d typically jump and I shot off the grass, scared that he’d actually do it. What the hell was going on with him today?

  My legs moved fast. I was halfway across the park, but I wasn’t quick enough. Trev held his body up for a few seconds more, then did a backflip off the wall just like Leanne, only this drop was about ten feet higher. He landed on the ground roughly, not half as polished as his usual landings. His trainers skidded on the gravel.

  “Jesus Christ!” Barry yelled angrily. “Are you off your fucking meds or something?”

  Everything inside of me froze at his harshly spoken words. Everyone within a quarter-mile radius must’ve heard him, and what he said was way too personal.

  “Don’t you dare talk to him like that,” I blurted, furious. Barry cut me a vicious glare.

  “He could’ve severely injured himself just now.”

  Trev advanced on him, his expression fierce as he stared the director down. He briefly sliced his gaze to me then back to his boss. “Fuck you, Barry,” he spat. “And you’re welcome for the first decent shot all day.”

  With that he stalked off. Barry called for him to come back but he wouldn’t listen.

  “Is there something I should know about you and Trev?” Paul asked quietly, having come up behind me.

  I glanced at him worriedly. “No, but . . .”

  “You should go after him. Have a talk.”

  I nodded and looked across the park but he’d already disappeared. I followed in the direction he went, but there was no sign of him anywhere. After about twenty minutes of searching I gave up and sent a text.

  Reya: Where’d you go?

  Five minutes later there was still no answer, so I ducked inside a café and ordered a cappuccino. When I finished my drink, I headed back to the park, but the crew were already packing up. I sighed and ordered an Uber to take me to the apartment.

  It was empty when I got there, so I guessed everyone had gone out to dinner. I went and changed my top to freshen up. Just as I pulled it over my head, my phone chimed with a text. It was from Trev but there was no message, only a location.

  I checked the route on my phone and as it was within walking distance, I grabbed my handbag and set out to find him. I spotted him immediately as I approached the bridge called Pont Alexandre III. He sat with his legs dangling over the edge, staring down at the Seine rushing by beneath. There were extravagant gold statues of angels and nymphs adorning the sides of the bridge, and for a second I imagined Trev as one of them. His thoughtful expression and stillness added to the effect.

  When I got close enough I saw he wasn’t actually looking at the river, but at the black and gold nymph statue that was a centrepiece in the middle of the bridge.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” I said, leaning over the edge to get a better view.

  He turned his head to me slowly, and I noticed the stress lines that marked his brow, a sign he’d been
having a rough day. He looked back at the statue as he replied, “Not really.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  “Depends on how you look at it.”

  I came forward until I was close enough to touch his elbow. “How do you look at it?”

  He exhaled deeply, his posture a little slumped. “I look at it and see all the poor buggers whose fingers probably bled to build this bridge. You look at it and see a shiny finished product. A bridge should be functional. It should get you from point A to point B. It’s only pretty to satisfy someone else’s ego.”

  “I see you’ve spent some time thinking about all this,” I said, vaguely amused.

  Trev lifted a shoulder. “I just know that if I were alive a hundred years ago, I’d be the stupid bastard whose hands bled.”

  I chuffed a soft laugh. “And I’d be the poor fishwife living on scraps and waiting for her husband to get back from sea.”

  His lips curved ever so slightly, so I knew my humour was breaking through. “I try to remember how lucky I am to be alive now, like, right at this moment in time,” he went on. “Sure, I had it rough growing up, but at least I had a chance to better myself. Sometimes I forget how rare that is. When I do stupid stuff to jeopardise what I have, I remind myself that had I been born to the same circumstances in any other period, I wouldn’t be where I am today. There wouldn’t be people willing to give me the chances I’ve been given.”

  I stared at him for a long moment, lost for words. These days he was continually surprising me with his depth, with how much time he took to really think about things, to look at himself and his life through an analytical lens.

  He glanced down and I followed his gaze to where his palms rested face up on his lap, gasping when I saw the bloody scrapes. He must’ve gotten them from the jump he took earlier. His landing had been pretty bumpy.

  “Shit, Trev, those look bad. We should go back to the apartment and get you cleaned up.”

  “I’m not going back there. I don’t need Barry breathing down my neck and giving me grief about today.”

  “I’m sure he’s calmed down by now,” I said and gave his elbow a small squeeze.