♪ Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles
“Everything OK?” she asked.
“It is now that your smile is lighting up my world again,” I admitted. With the force of the sun, she pulled me into her orbit. Leaning down, I pressed my lips to hers.
Her lips didn’t part beneath the weight of mine. I pulled back momentarily and looked at her curiously.
“I haven’t brushed my teeth yet this morning,” she said, as if that should explain why she hadn’t kissed me back.
“I thought we dealt with that back in Amsterdam,” I retorted with a smirk.
“That was then. This is now. This is new. Not what we were. It’s…” her stumbling explanation ghosted across my lips.
“We’re not new. I know things are unsettled with us at the moment, but our love isn’t,” I mumbled against her pout. “A lot of things have been in flux in my life the past two years. Loving you is not one of them. And true love is…” I lifted a brow as I waited for her to finish the tidbit of enlightenment I gave her back when everything was perfect between us.
“Kissing even with morning breath,” she finished in a sing-song voice.
“I’ve had to go two years without kissing you. I’m not wasting a chance just because you think you have bad breath. I used to let your dog lick my face,” I reminded her and kissed her again.
Her mouth opened on a sigh, and I dove right in. My heart raced, my skin tingled, and my ears filled with her soft moans and an odd beeping sound. The rush of footsteps entering the room and a hearty chuckle reminded me that this wasn’t exactly the time or place to explore where our relationship was heading.
“Always interrupted just when we get to the good parts,” she said with a giggle.
“I hear somebody in here is anxious to go home,” a deep voice rumbled from behind me. The doctor from the hallway stepped to the foot of Izzy’s bed to read her chart.
“Yes, I am,” Izzy said as I settled into the chair.
“Everything looks good. Your blood pressure has had some spikes. But I’m going to discharge you anyway… if you promise to relax and try not to let your blood pressure rise for extended periods over the next several days,” the doctor said firmly.
“I promise, I’ll take it easy,” she vowed.
A stern look took over his features. “I know you’re young and in love, but what I walked in on a few seconds ago…” He pointed his finger between the two of us. “No prolonged bouts of that. You’ll have to be patient for a few days. I remember what it was like to be so wrapped up in my wife that I couldn’t keep my hands off her. But you’ll have to exercise some restraint, young man.” He turned to me. “With the severity of her concussion, I’d be advising this anyway. But with the blood pressure spikes, I’m reiterating it. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I answered.
“Also, no driving. Try not to be up for too long at a time. Don’t overdo it for the next few days. If you notice any changes in your vision, comprehension, cognitive functions… give me a call. Any pain, headaches that don’t ease with the help of the prescription I’m giving you, give me a call. Got it?” he said as he scribbled on a pad of paper.
“Yes, sir. I’ll stay in bed most of the time. I do have some art I need to work on. But—”
“But I’ll make sure she doesn’t overdo it,” I interrupted her.
“Well, in that case, consider yourself sprung,” he said and handed me a stack of papers with written instructions and things to watch for.
“That’s the best news we’ve heard all day,” Sue said from the doorway.
* * *
Less than an hour after getting the all-clear from the doctor and bidding Sue and Andrew goodbye, we pulled into Izzy's apartment building. Izzy slumbered peacefully against me in the backseat. Joe parked by the front entrance and hopped out to speak with the doorman. Thankfully, there weren't many people milling around. When the coast was deemed clear, Joe opened the backdoor of the SUV he'd rented to haul me around inconspicuously. I tugged my beanie down low on my head and settled my dark sunglasses over my eyes.
I carefully slid out, keeping my arm around Izzy and pulling her along with me. She stirred slightly. Once my feet hit the pavement, I scooped Izzy up in my arms and carried her through the open door. The warmth of the lobby was making me sweat in the beanie and oversized leather jacket. Izzy's head was tucked against my chest.
"Hey there. Long time no see," the doorman greeted me when he stepped back inside.
"Hey, Mr. Jones. It has been a while. I hope you're doing well," I offered with a smile as we waited for the elevator to arrive.
"I am. Mrs. Jones will be happy to hear that I saw you around again." He leaned closer to me and whispered, "She never could quite believe all those things the magazines said about you the past couple of years. She'll be glad to know she was right. You know how women are. Nothing pleases 'em more than being proven right." He shook his head but couldn't shake the grin from his face as he spoke of his wife.
"I've been told the secret to a happy relationship is to let her be right," I said with a chuckle.
"No truer words have ever been spoken." He patted me on the back as the doors to the elevator slid open. "How's Isabelle doing? Her mom told me what happened when she swung by here earlier to put stuff in the apartment."
"She's going to be OK. Just some bumps, bruises and a concussion. She's going to have to take it easy for a few days, but she'll be as good as new in no time," I assured him.
Joe held his hand on the elevator doors, keeping them open for me.
"Go get her put to bed. If you need anything, just ring me down here, and I'll make sure to take care of it. We all just adore that girl," the older man said with a smile.
"I do too. Thanks, Mr. Jones." I stepped into the corner of the elevator, and Joe let the doors close.
When we arrived on Izzy's floor, Joe dug out the key she’d given him as we were leaving the hospital. The door swung open silently. My eyes roved the space that used to be so familiar to me, cataloging the changes since I last set eyes on it either in person or through video calls. The walls were bare. The Sunflowers reprint was gone from the wall directly in front of me. The paintings and drawings and photos of us—gone. Images of the band, sights we'd seen together, gifts—all vanished. The front of the fridge was free of magnets and notes. The coffee table stood empty. The surface of her desk was bare.
My heart cracked. I'd been erased from her life. It was as if her apartment had been sterilized of my touch.
"You going to put her down?" Joe asked, snapping me back to reality.
“Yeah. Give me a minute.” I didn’t even think twice about traversing the now bare hallway and easing the door to her room open.
Sunlight filtered in through the partially opened blinds, illuminating another room barren of not only traces of me, but traces of her as well. Every surface was clear of any memento honoring her old life or her new one. The only thing I recognized from the space other than the furniture was the soft pink bedspread.
Shifting her sleeping form so I could free one hand, I pulled back the covers on her side of the bed. If that still was her side of the bed. Maybe that had changed too.
Gently, I eased her onto the mattress. After slipping her shoes off, I covered her. She burrowed into her pillow. I couldn’t help but watch her for just a minute. When the ache and desire reached detonation levels, I spun on my heel and went to find Joe. He was perched on the couch, systematically taking in the number of covered easels scattered around the living room.
She’d definitely been busy.
“What do you think is under the cloths?” Joe asked.
“Something spectacular, I’m sure.” I sat down on the corner of the couch.
He got to his feet and approached the closest easel.
“Don’t even think about it,” I barked as his hand snaked out to lift the fabric. “Izzy hates people seeing her work before it’s finished.” She’d often made an exception fo
r me. But I’d never peek without asking permission first.
With a sigh, he stepped back. “Izzy’s mom left a note on the counter. She stocked the cabinets and fridge with your favorites.”
I chuckled. Sue had always mothered me growing up, maybe even more than my own mom. My mom was too distracted by the problems between her and Dad. At least my absence hadn’t erased me Sue’s heart.
“Ty texted. He’s got Izzy’s prescription and her new phone and is on the way up with it. With the doorman downstairs, I feel pretty confident you’ll be safe here. Just don’t go anywhere. Someone will be stationed close by around the clock should you need anything,” Joe said.
“Sounds good, man. Thanks.” I was exhausted and weary, so I had no plans on leaving.
A knock sounded on the door. When Joe swung the door open, he took the bags from Ty and brought it over to me. He stared at me hard for a long moment.
“D… be careful. Take care of her and yourself.” The big man marched to the door and left without a backward glance.
Not knowing what to do with myself in a place that used to feel like a home but now felt… I didn’t have the right word for how it felt… I wandered to the kitchen to see what Izzy’s mom had gotten for us. The fridge was stocked with tons of options, and the pantry was too. I grinned when I saw my favorite marshmallow cereal.
I checked the time. Izzy could have a dose of medicine in half an hour. Opening the fridge, I grabbed a bottle of water. Then I got one of her pills and went to check on her. When I peeked in her room, she was just how I left her—snuggled under her blanket, beautiful as ever. I sank down in the chair in the corner and let my gaze rove around the room.
Everything was neat and clean. No works in progress were scattered about. No discarded clothes. No funky jewelry. Everything seemed to be tucked away. The only thing out of place sat in the back corner of her dresser. It was the only spot of color in the room besides the pink comforter.
Unable to resist, I got up and walked over to the dresser. With trembling fingers, I picked up the soft, multi-colored stuffed bear. Pressing my nose to the fabric, I inhaled the scent that for years had reminded me of Izzy. Trapping one of its ears between my thumb and pointer finger, I stroked the squishy material.
Finding this in a place devoid of me and the Izzy I’d always loved, lit a tiny flicker of hope in my heart. The question was should I nurture and fan the flame or let it snuff itself out? Which was best for her? Best for me?
Chapter 15
Izzy
Slowly, I became aware of my surroundings. The soft blanket clutched in my fingers, the cool pillow beneath my cheek, the scent of strawberries and lavender filling my nose—I was home in my bed. I tried to make sense of things. It took me a moment to remember being at the hospital, getting hit, my artwork destroyed… Dawson. My eyes flew open.
My vision was filled with him. His lips spread in a wide smile, bringing out that dimple I loved so much.
“I see you found my good luck charm,” I said with a grin. He looked so adorable in the chair clutching it to his chest.
“Huh?” He looked confused.
“Groovy, my bear,” I explained nodding to the muted, tie-dyed bear.
“Yeah. I can’t believe you kept him,” Dawson said, peering down at the stuffed creature.
I frowned at him. “He’s the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes after my kidney transplant. Seeing him made me smile for the first time in weeks, months even. The transplant was the day after my birthday. I was so depressed. And then this little guy magically appeared and brought a spot of color back into my life. Somehow, he gave me the nudge to fight a little harder. Why wouldn’t I keep him?” I asked, not understanding.
Leaning forward, he planted his elbows on his knees. “Because this bear was from me,” Dawson whispered. “And you erased every piece of me from your life.” He waved one hand around, indicating my barren room.
“He’s from you? I don’t understand.” I scooted up to a sitting position. Had I banged my head hard enough to lose my memories?
“This bear was your birthday present that first birthday after… things went to hell with us. I was out with the guys in Beijing and saw this little guy sitting in a window.” He turned the bear around to look at its cute little face. “I was drawn to the colors. His fur was like a watercolor. Made me think of you. Then when I saw his name was Groovy, it reminded me of the song ‘Groovy Kind of Love’.”
♪ Groovy Kind of Love by Phil Collins
“You sang that to me the first time we were apart for over a month. It cheered us both up,” I continued the story softly.
What were the odds that the surprise, anonymous gift which had brightened my darkest days had been a gift from Dawson?
“Yeah. So, when I saw him, I knew I had to get him for you. I wrote a note and boxed him up that day. I’d been trying to decide what to send you for your birthday, but I was at a loss. I mean what do you send the girl who was your whole world and owned your heart, then walked away? Groovy was a sign. Finding him made me not feel so blue. Gave me a little hope that the darkness would recede soon,” he said, his eyes shimmering with unfettered emotion.
“I didn’t know he was from you. I thought you’d forgotten my birthday,” I admitted. It had hurt so badly when I thought he’d forgotten me.
“I’ve never forgotten your birthday,” he said vehemently, his fingers squeezing the bear tightly.
“I guess I’m seeing that now. The CD you sent for my last birthday only arrived a few weeks ago,” I admitted.
“What? I mailed it weeks before your birthday,” he said incredulously.
I shrugged. “International postal system.”
“So, if you didn’t know I sent Groovy, then you didn’t read my letter?” he murmured.
“No.” I fidgeted with a loose thread on the edge of my comforter.
“And you were in the hospital when you got him?” Dawson’s brow wrinkled, trying to figure things out.
“Yeah. In Atlanta. I was in the hospital for weeks before my surgery. Mom must have opened the package when she came by my apartment to pay my bills and stuff,” I offered.
“And brought him to cheer you up in the hospital. Which if she’d told you he was from me, he probably wouldn’t have cheered you up.” He nodded to himself, the smile dropping from his lips.
Mom had failed to confess that little detail weeks ago when she’d come clean about Dawson’s phone number changing. Maybe I needed to have a talk with her. She couldn’t make decisions about my life without talking to me. I was an adult now. Or maybe I should just let it go. Fussing with her now wouldn’t change the past.
“Well, I’m glad he cheered you up,” Dawson said with a half-smile as he stood and walked over to me. He tucked the soft toy into the curve of my arm.
“I’m glad he was from you. What did the letter say?” I asked curiously.
His face flushed red. “Oh, just how much I missed you and wished I knew what went wrong. I apologized for everything that happened with the tabloids and videos. And how much I would always love you,” he rambled.
Reaching over, I pulled back the far corner of the blanket and patted the sheet.
“Are you sure?” he asked awkwardly, tucking his hands into his back pockets.
“Get over here, Daw. Don’t make me beg,” I teased. As I eased back against my pillow, I winced.
“Are you in pain? You were actually due for a pain pill almost two hours ago, but I didn’t have the heart to wake you. You looked so beautiful and peaceful.” He looked worried.
“So, you stared at me while I slept, like a creeper?” I teased.
“Guilty as charged.” He grabbed a pill from the nightstand and a bottle of water. Holding open his palm, he offered the pain medicine to me.
I scrunched up my nose in thought. “I’m a little uncomfortable, but I’d really like to stay awake for a while. I think I’ll wait.”
He put everything back on the nightstand a
nd eased onto the mattress next to me, back where he belonged. One corner of my mouth quirked up.
“What are you smiling about?” he asked as he propped himself up against the pillows.
I tucked my chin shyly. “Nothing. I just enjoy seeing you back on your side of the bed.”
“I wasn’t sure if you still slept on the same side of the bed or not when I tucked you in. I figured there was a chance that you’d switched… if Beckett liked the same side as you.”
I lifted my gaze back to his. “Beckett never slept over in my apartment, so he didn’t have a side in my bed.”
Dawson growled and angled his body closer to mine. His lips pressed against mine. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear you say that he wasn’t in your bed.”
He nipped my lip, eliciting a mewl from me. My fingers gripped his shirt.
“But I can’t tell you how much it shreds my guts imagining him touching you, him kissing you… him inside of you,” his voice was ravaged by pain.
He pulled his mouth from mine and rested his forehead against my own. A war rioted on his face, causing one to rage in my heart. I opened my mouth to speak, but his thumb swept across my lips, freezing the words in my throat.
“I know I have no right to feel that way, but I can’t help it. It makes me want to punch him for touching what was mine. We promised each other forever. Every beat of my heart only ever said your name,” he said and collapsed onto his back like voicing his feelings had drained him.
“I wasn’t with Beckett to hurt you or get back at you. You disappeared. You didn’t take my calls or answer my messages. You moved on first. I was just trying to live again. Trying to find some semblance of love and happiness. It didn’t matter that I was lying to myself the whole time,” my voice trembled—from indignation or heartache, I wasn’t sure. Maybe it was a combination of both.
He peeked over at me. His fingers wrapped around my wrist. "Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this right now,” he said sadly. “Your pulse is thundering. Your blood pressure is probably too high.”
Songs of the Heart: Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series Book 3 Page 19