Author Note: Song Prompt for this chapter - Killing Me Softly, performed by many, including Roberta Flack and the Fugees

Four Months Later.

Sarah

Sarah stepped through the glittering curtain to enter the small club she had been invited to. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man with a guitar sitting on a stool, strumming a melody. His face was hidden from her view, but she had instantly recognized him.

The tight blue jeans hugged familiar legs, and the black t-shirt sat snugly around a chest she had explored intimately.

The man beside her gently gripped her elbow, leading her towards a booth tucked away in the shadows at the back of the room.

"Sarah?"

"Hmm, what?" She blinked, forcing her gaze away to concentrate on her companion, Derek.

"You are miles away. What is going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

"You said this is your club, right?" She asked, sliding into her seat.

"Yes," Derek nodded.

"The man with the guitar...do-do you know him?"

"Rick? Yes, he is an old friend. He used to be a construction liaison, but recently quit. He heard about my club and asked if he could play."

"Oh."

"Yeah, Rick is an amazing musician. It's a pity he never fulfilled that dream. His family was not keen on him throwing his life away with a music career. Better late than never, right?"

Sarah nodded and turned her attention back to Rick, who started playing a new song and, much to her surprise, sang along. She sank back into her seat as his words enveloped her. He was singing this for her. His pain, her pain, the promise of what could have been if she hadn't run away.

She bit back the threatening tears as she remembered their last conversation.

—

"Why, Sarah? I thought, well, you know. We-we could try. I know I'm in between jobs right now, but I-I have money saved up and-"

"I'm sorry, Rick. But this thing was just about sex. A fling, to pass the time in an otherwise dull town."

"Is that all it is...was?"

"Rick, you are a wonderful man and, honestly, the best lover I have ever had. But, I don't do relationships. If only things were different, but-"

"All the if only's and what if's are all just bottled-up regrets we will always wish we didn't have, Sarah. I-I will admit my past relationships weren't stable or the best. But then, they weren't you. I- I think what-what we feel for each other could-could become something special."

"Rick-"

"Don't give up so quickly, Sarah. I-I lo-"

"Don't, Rick! Don't say something you don't mean. We don't know each other. Not really. You don't know me. I'm sorry. I have to go. Goodbye, Rick."

—

Rick had called after her, but he had stood frozen as she ran to her car and then drove away.

She had refused to look in her rearview mirror; if she had, she would have seen a crumbling Rick, and she might have stopped.

*

Rick

Rick stood up after finishing his song to a solid round of applause, and even caught a few tears glinting on several cheeks. He was close to tears himself. He had written that song on one of his darkest days. He closed his eyes for a moment. He could have sworn he had caught Sarah's scent, or was it just wishful thinking?

All the women in his life had left him, but for some reason, Sarah had sent him into a downward spiral, and he was still drowning. It was ridiculous to let a woman he hardly even knew affect him so deeply. She was the pinnacle of every woman who had ever hurt him.

Rick strode over to the nearby bar. Fuck her. Fuck everyone.

"Whiskey," he ordered.

*

Sarah

Sarah hesitated behind Rick, doubting her rationality in making herself known to him. His song had slowly killed her inside, painfully shattering the last of her resolve that she had never felt anything for him.

"Can I get you anything?" The bartender looked at her eagerly.

Sarah's heart stopped, and she bit her lip, but Rick remained with his back to her. She took a deep breath.

"I am fine, thank you."

*

Rick

Those words washed over Rick like a tsunami, chilling him to the bone. He turned, and almost wished he hadn't.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. His eyes drifted over her, imprinting every inch. The red cocktail dress she wore clung to the curves he had admired and kissed. Her hair hung loose, the strands begging for fingers to entwine in them.

"Hello, Rick." Her voice was sweet, but heavy with sorrow. He felt the swell of his dormant desire grow, threatening to squash any firm resolutions he had made never to let any woman make him feel like this again.

He drank the remaining liquid in his glass, returned the glass to the bar counter, and then, without a backward glance, walked away.

*

Sarah

The world swirled, and her heart dropped, swallowed by a death-gripping pain.

What had she expected? He would have opened his arms, and she would have gladly gone to him?

She wanted to run after him, to tell him she had been wrong and she should have given them a chance.

You had four months, Sarah—four months to do something. But you chose to wallow in your own self-pity and regrets. You pushed the one man away who might have saved you.

"Sarah?"

She turned around to Derek and mustered a smile from somewhere.
"Can we leave?" She asked.

"Of course. Do you know Rick?" He asked as he escorted her out of the club.

"I thought I did. He looks like someone I used to know. But I was mistaken," she lied.

*