Wicked

Chapter 25

Faith POV: 

I press a few keys on the piano, humming a melody before looking up at the ceiling. I hit a few different notes on the keys, before finding a set that sounds just right. I press the keys lightly, shutting my eyes as the words start to form in my mind. 

"You must really love me to... You must really..." I struggle, before stopping. I grab a notepad, scribbling words across the page until something sticks. "You must really love me to lie to me, must really love me to lie to me... Must really love me to lie, lie to me..." I sing gently, before the rest of the song comes through in a flood. 

"Yeah, I know that you always look away when you don't know what to say, and you've been looking a lot lately..." I let out, feeling my fingers form to the keys. "Yeah, we both know it might be a mistake, so even when we're bound to break, you still catch me when I'm fading..."

"Wide awake at night knowing it ain't right, we both realize it might be over. Kills my heart to know you're gonna have to go. While you break it slow, just let me hold you 'cause I know... You must really love me to lie to me, must really love me to lie to me, must really love me to lie, lie to me... You make letting me down look so easy, when I know it can't be... You must really love me to lie, lie to me..." I belt, before pulling my hands away from the piano like they're burning me. 

"It sounds good." Scott lets out, making jump so hard I hit a few keys. He laughs at the reaction, before stepping forward. "Jesus, babe, I didn't mean to scare you." He says, before resting his hands on my shoulders. He kisses the top of my head as I lay my hands over his. "I have a creative meeting with Blake Shelton today to talk about his next album. Can you take Grace into tumbling?" He asks, as I nod, eager to get out of the house. He smiles, before his kisses travel down my neck. He slips the strap of my shirt down, before grabbing onto me as I shut my eyes. 

"Mom, let me show you my handspring." Grace says, running on the mat. She does her stunt as I smile, clapping for her as she smiles proudly. She rushes over to me, setting her hands on my shoulders. 

"You're going to be an Olympian in no time." I say, watching her smile brighter. I tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, before taking a moment just to look at her. 

"Momma?" She lets out, as I cock my head. "I talked to Dad about it and he said no, but... can I switch to choir this year?" She asks, as I feel my stomach twist. "I don't like orchestra and my instrument is super heavy, and I just want to sing." She says, causing a slight smile to come to my face. 

"Your dad said no?" I ask, as she nods. I grab onto her hands, running my thumb across her knuckles. "I'll call the school and see if I can switch you into choir, but don't tell your dad, alright? It's our secret." I say, watching her smile grow. I kiss her forehead, before she sits down beside me. "Does the class before yours always go this late?" I question as she shrugs. 

"I think they're doing assessments for the younger kids before class starts." She says, as I nod. 

"Alright, so the following girls passed their assessments and will stay for tonights tumbling class!" The coach lets out with an immense amount of energy. I don't think I've been that peppy since my twenties. "Jacqueline Lee, Lilly Grant, Maggie McGraw, and Samantha Reynolds! Congrats, guys!" The coach says, as some of the girls jump with joy. I stare at the group, feeling my mind hook on one of the names. Did she say McGraw? "Junior Tumblers! Come meet your new classmates!" She cheers, as Grace stands up. She leaves a kiss on my cheek before rushing onto the mat. I grab her bag and head over to the main stands as the parents leave from the last class. I sit down and dig out a book from my purse, staring at the title, Getting Unstuck. I look around, wondering if anyone will see the self-help title and laugh, but then again, why do I care? I have a million other things to be upset about. "Nice handspring, Grace!" The coach says, making me smile. I glance up to see the pride on her face, before looking back down at my book. 

"Excuse me..." Someone releases, causing me to shut the book and flip it upside down, as if it were fifty shades of grey. I glance up, feeling myself get caught in his eyes. They're so recognizable, it's hard to look away. "Sorry to bother you, but is your name Faith?" He asks, as I stare up at him. I clear my throat, before nodding. Maybe it's just a bizarre coincidence that he has the same eyes. "Could we speak outside for a moment?" He request, as I look out at Grace. 

"I should really be watching –" I start, before he interrupts. 

"It'll only be a moment." He says, as I hesitantly grab my purse. I follow him outside, noticing his stride. He walks like him, his shoulders high like he's anxious. He walks outside and around the side of the building, before digging into his pocket. 

What if he's not who I think he is? What if he pulls out a gun or a knife? 

He slips out a polaroid picture, handing it to me. 

"Are you the woman in this picture?" He asks, jamming his hands into his pockets as the November air gets to him. I feel my eyes well up as I see me sitting pinned between Tim and his guitar, laughing uncontrollably as he sings to me. I flip the photo over, seeing the note I wrote on the back years ago. 

"How did you get this?" I question, as he looks down at the photograph. 

"It was in a box of things Tug left to us." He says, before he motions toward Tim. "That's my father in that picture." He announces, as if I didn't already know. I look at his warm eyes and brown hair, hearing my voice break. 

"You're Grant." I acknowledge, before he nods, seeming a little stunned that I know his name. "Listen, I should really go back inside." I say, as he seems to panic. 

"He still..." He starts, before stopping as my eyes land on him once more. "He told me about you two and the affair and..." He stops, realizing that he might be crossing a line. I shut my eyes, trying to clear my mind of the thought. 

 He was just using you like a cheap whore... 

"Grant, I don't know what he said or what you think we were but... That was another life." I say, the statement ringing true in a number of ways. That was back when I actually had my freedom. 

"Can't you just call him and tell him that? I mean, he's still driving himself mad over it." He lets out as I start to walk away. I clench my fists, feeling my chest boil. I stop in my place and turn toward him. 

"I did call." I spit out, feeling my chest pound. "I called, and called, and he never..." I stop myself, realizing that this isn't going to fix anything. "I did, Grant. I called. I sent him this damn picture... He never got back to me. In fact, he blocked my number. So if he wants to pretend that he's–" I stop myself once more, shutting my eyes tightly. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing else I have to say to him." I say, before starting inside once more. I look down at the photograph in my hand, before glancing at the trashcan by the door.