Page 22 of Save a Wish

“Thanks.” I took the bottle, uncapped it, and took a long drink from it.

He eyed the singing bowls. “Wow, those really do look delicate. I probably shouldn’t have offered to carry them for you. I feel as if I could break them just by looking at them.”

“They do require a light touch.” When I finished making minor adjustments to the positioning of the singing bowls, I looked up at Beckett. “Are you ready for your sound bath?”

“What does one need to do to be ready for a sound bath?” He set his own water bottle on a coaster he’d placed on the table in front of the couch and I did the same.

“Nothing really,” I said. “Maybe lie on that couch, on your back, and I’ll lead you in a breathing exercise to relax you.”

He peered at me for a moment, and I got the sense he thought breathing exercises—like sound baths and auras—were nothing more than malarkey.

I prepared to convince him otherwise, but he went to the couch of his own free will and reclined.

And a curious thing happened when I saw him in that position.

I wanted to join him.

Chapter Eight

Beckett

The moment I was on my back on the couch, I had the strangest urge to tug Sadie down with me.

Foolish.

I didn’t know her, and I was anti-sound bath like two seconds ago. Why in the world would I want to have her lie on my couch with me?

Probably because she looked like an angel again. Or still. Maybe she always looked like an angel, twenty-four hours a day.

“Am I doing this right?” I asked instead of inviting her to join me on the couch.

“Yes.” She hooked her red hair behind her ear as she peered down at me. Those electric green eyes of hers stirred something inside me as I looked up at her.

We stared for a few silent minutes before she blinked several times and stood more upright.

Because at some point during our staring at each other, she’d bent over me. Had she meant to get that close?

“So, follow my cues for the breathwork.” Sadie walked away to position herself behind the singing bowls. “Inhale for one, two, three, four . . .”

I followed along, taking in a deep breath to her count of four.

“And hold for one, two, three, four, five, six, seven,” Sadie continued. “Then release for one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”

We engaged in that breathing pattern together for a few rounds, and truth be told, some of the tension that always lived in my shoulders and back sifted into the couch cushions beneath me. Out of my family members, I was the one whose work at Hartley’s Nest required the most sitting at a desk, hunched over a computer. Not the best for the body, but I liked to think my jogging and lifting counter-balanced my sitting-still time. Nothing I did workout-wise, however, ever loosened up my shoulders and back.

Not like this breathing had.

Interesting.

“Now keep a steady rhythm to your breathing that feels natural,” Sadie guided.

Then she struck the singing bowls and the loveliest chiming sounded from them. When she ran the mallets around the edges of the bowls, they actually did sing. They reminded me of wineglasses full of water that when you rubbed your fingers along the rims let out that low vibrating tone.

Only these singing bowls created an even better song. One that resonated in my chest and between my ears. One that made my very skin relax if that made sense.

My eyes closed and I enjoyed the ethereal tones Sadie played, drawing the music of the singing bowls deep into myself. For once, my mind wasn’t on video games or Hartley’s Nest finances or anything. The tones acted as brooms, gently sweeping away everything that usually littered my busy brain. I felt airy, light, transparent.

I fell deeper under whatever spell Sadie was weaving with those bowls, and a warm, comforting green hue slowly painted itself behind my closed eyelids. The color somehow had a feeling to it.