Muses and Melodies (Hush Note Book 3)

by Rebecca Yarros

“I’m impressed that you recognize it.” Quinn nodded. “I think there’s a certain level of addiction we all have for the people we love. I live off the sound of Graham’s voice, his touch, his smile.” She sighed. “I don’t know where that line is for you, but I bet your therapist does. And there’s a word for what you feel—it’s love.”

  Love.

  The perpetual ache in my chest grew, sweetened even through the pain. Shit. Yeah, I was in love with her. “I’m no good for her.”

  “You should probably let her decide that, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe I should let her find someone capable of loving her the way she deserves. Someone who doesn’t have to be fixed.”

  “Yeah, well, if you can live with knowing she’s out there with someone else, kissing them, loving them, marrying them, making babies with—”

  “Holy hell, stop!” I rubbed at my chest.

  “Right. There’s your answer. Now Colin wants pizza, so why don’t you grab the new phone I left you on the kitchen counter and join us?” She nodded toward the door.

  “Leave the penthouse.”

  “I’ll hold your hand the whole time, big boy.” She wiggled her fingers. “Come on. There’s life out there, and while I’ll ignore your possession of a paper planner, I do insist that you power up that phone. It’s already set to your old number. Unless you’ve decided to go back to mailing letters instead of texting?” She raised her eyebrows.

  “You’re lucky I’m hungry.”

  “Not interested,” I told Chris as I walked by the gathering outside my dressing room a few weeks later.

  We weren’t supposed to be at this festival, but the whole thing had come together as an impromptu fundraiser, which meant I was backstage in the middle of Chicago, with about an hour to showtime.

  “Noted.”

  “Jonas never has this crowding issue,” I said, my hand on the door handle. Pretty sure Zoe broke me, because none of the women even looked appealing. I just wanted them all gone.

  “With all due respect, Nix, Jonas never set that precedent.” He lifted his heavy black brows, clearly insinuating that I had.

  “Right. Well, let’s change—” The words died on my tongue as I looked down the hall.

  Zoe.

  She was maybe twenty feet away, talking to the band she’d signed. Her heels were high, but she’d foregone her typical dress for a tightly tailored black pantsuit that cupped every curve the way I wanted to. She smiled at the lead singer, and my heart stopped, then thundered.

  That’s not her romantic smile, it’s her professional one, I reminded myself, but it didn’t help. That clawing, insidious little knife in my stomach was jealousy. That kid was barely old enough for the beer in his hand, and he hadn’t earned a smile from the woman I loved. He didn’t know she liked honey in her tea, or that salted caramel ice cream was her favorite. He didn’t know her over-organization was the result of the first man she’d ever loved telling her she’d never be good enough. He didn’t know her favorite pajamas were the panda ones that made her look like a fucking sorority girl at a sleepover, or that her underwear always matched and was ninety percent lace. He didn’t know how she tasted, how she sounded right before she came, and if he did, I was going to kick his ass and break the fingers on his left hand so he couldn’t even strum that little guitar of his.

  He sure as hell didn’t know how it felt to slide inside her bare, skin on skin, with nothing between us but my own goddamned walls. That torture was mine, and mine alone.

  “You see something you might be interested in down there?” Chris asked.

  “More than interested.”

  “Thought so.”

  I turned my head to find him smirking at me. “You knew. You knew she was here.”

  He nodded. “Why do you think Jonas pushed so hard to play this show?”

  I looked past Zoe and her band and found both Jonas and Quinn leaning out of their respective dressing rooms, watching. I tilted my head at them and narrowed my eyes.

  Jonas lifted his brows and slipped slowly back inside his dressing room. Quinn just grinned and nodded toward Zoe, then stood to watch what I was going to do about her.

  Well, I’d always done my best work in front of an audience. I blew out my breath on a long sigh and nodded to myself. Then I strode down the hall like I owned it and came up behind her. The scent of coconuts hit me straight in the dick, and I almost smiled. I wasn’t broken. I was in love.

  “Zoe.”

  Her shoulders straightened, then rose and fell once before she turned toward me, arching her neck slightly to look up at me. I was indecently, intimately close, and I wanted the baby rock stars behind her to note it. “Nixon.”

  Words. I needed words. Quickly. But, fuck, her eyes were the knockout punch, stripping the common sense straight out of me.

  “What’s up?” She arched her eyebrows in annoyance. As if I meant nothing. As if I hadn’t made her scream my name so many times she’d gone hoarse that first week. As if she didn’t love me.

  “I’m in love with you.” It was easier to say than I’d imagined. Way easier. Effortless.

  Her eyes flew wide.

  “Holy shit,” one of the baby rockers exclaimed. “That’s Nixon Winters.”

  “I am in love with you, Zoe Shannon,” I repeated, just in case she hadn’t understood me across the scant inches that separated us.

  “Heard that part.” She did that little head tilt of hers that signaled her inner debate.

  “And?” I would have given anything to be inside her head.

  “And she obviously doesn’t feel the same,” the drummer replied. “Awkward.”

  “No one asked the daycare crowd.” I didn’t look away from the confusion swirling in those green depths for fear I’d lose my chance if I lost eye contact.

  “Hey, we’re like, seven years younger than you. That’s it,” another one chimed in.

  “The fact that you know that when I don’t even know your names is why you’re the daycare crowd. Now quiet down and let the adults speak.” A smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

  “He’s sorry, boys,” Zoe sang. “Don’t talk to them like that.”

  “He’s not,” I replied. “They’re protective of you. Is that because you got them into the show, or because they’re immeasurably grateful for you making them fire their shitty bass player?”

  “Both.” There it was, the tiniest smile. “What do you want, Nixon?”

  “You.”

  “We tried that once already, remember? Now, go get ready. I know you’re supposed to be on stage soon.” She lifted her chin.

  Because she knew my schedule. Hope flared in my chest.

  “We can do this in my dressing room, or right out here in the hallway. I don’t care.” That was a lie. I clearly preferred my dressing room, but I’d make do.

  “And if I choose not at all?” Her voice softened.

  “I’ll stand here as long as it takes. I just need you to hear me out.” I was going to smack Jonas upside the back of the head when I got ahold of him. If he’d warned me, I would have been prepared with something better than that.

  “You’re really going to hold up the show? Make an entire stadium full of fans wait?” She shook her head. “What will Jonas say?”

  “I’m good with it,” Jonas said from behind me.

  “Me too,” Quinn added.

  “You’re not helping,” Zoe replied, her gaze still locked on me.

  “I’d argue otherwise,” Jonas countered.

  “God, I’ve missed you,” I whispered. My hands formed fists to keep from reaching for her. “I’ve missed every single thing about you.”

  Zoe sighed in complete exasperation. “Fine. Ten minutes.”

  “Fifteen,” I argued.

  “Nine.” She arched a brow.

  I muttered a curse but nodded. Something was better than nothing.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll watch the kids,” Jonas offered as Zoe and I headed for my dressing room.


  She gave Chris a hug, which he quickly ended when he saw the look on my face, then she flung open my dressing room door and marched inside with me close on her heels. She looked around briefly, then hummed and sat on the edge of the counter.

  “What were you expecting to find?”

  “New Shannon.” She braced her palms on the counter as I approached. “Stop right there. That’s close enough. What the hell was that out there?”

  “There’s no new Shannon.” I halted.

  “Oh, come on, I know Monica was assigned to be your…Shannon.”

  “Her name is Monica?”

  “What did you think it was?” She drummed her fingers on the edge of the counter.

  “Wannabe Shannon.” I shrugged. “But she’s not you. There’s no new you.” My voice dropped.

  “At work or in your personal life?” Every line of her body radiated tension. Anger.

  That little flare of hope sparked brighter. She was jealous. “There’s been no one since you. There won’t be anyone after you. It’s just you.”

  She blinked, quickly schooling her features, which I deserved.

  “I’m in love with you, Zoe.” I started all over again.

  “Stop saying that!”

  “No. It’s true. I’m in love with you. We have to figure this out.”

  “Why? Because we have a ridiculous house together?” She lifted her brows. “Or because Monica doesn’t know how to make tea? Or do a good enough job at sucking your—”

  “Because you still love me!” There was no way a woman like Zoe gave her heart away and then yanked it back so quickly.

  “Don’t be so sure about that.” She folded her arms across her chest.

  Damn, the woman was a walking piece of frustration, and she knew exactly how to get under my skin.

  “I told you I would fuck this up. That I didn’t know how to do this.” I motioned between us. “And I’m not against parking a camper on the front lawn of the Colorado house like I threatened, but you haven’t been back there since I left.”

  “Keeping tabs on me?”

  “Yes!”

  “Why?” she fired back.

  “Because you’re mine!”

  “The hell I am!” Every line of her body went taut.

  “Fine, then I’m yours! Better now?” I ripped my hand over my hair.

  Her eyes fluttered shut. “Nixon, we can’t do this to each other. We just can’t. Even if you can take it, I can’t. It physically hurts to be this close and not touch you.”

  “Then touch me.” Four strides—that’s all it took to haul her into my arms. I poured everything I had into that kiss as our mouths met and opened, my longing, my need, and my love. It was all there for her to do whatever she wanted with it. She laced her hands behind my neck and kissed me back like it might be the last time.

  At the bittersweet taste of that desperation, I pulled back, gentling the strokes of my tongue to lazy swirls around hers.

  “I missed you every minute of every day,” I said between kisses.

  She shook her head and pushed at my chest. “Nothing’s changed.” Her eyes met mine, and there was so much sadness mixed into the anger that an ache developed in my throat.

  My body screamed in protest, and my heart lurched as I put precious inches between us, but my head was in control this time. “Everything has changed,” I assured her. “Everything but the way I feel about you. I’m in therapy. I’m sober. I’m not sleeping with Monica or anyone else. I don’t need you to keep me sober, Zoe, I just need you, period.”

  “You hurt me.” She bit out every word as the accusation it was.

  My gut knotted. “I know. I’m really sorry. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Ouch.

  “I’ll earn it.” I ran my thumb over the soft skin of her cheek.

  “You’ll earn it?” Sarcasm saturated every word.

  “I’ll earn your trust,” I promised. “And honestly, I have to earn my own first. When you said that you were my fix, it struck a chord.”

  “Was I? Am I?” She tensed. “I mean, look at what just happened.”

  “Maybe,” I admitted, stroking her lip with my thumb. “There’s nothing that compares to what it feels like to touch you.”

  Her eyes flared in surprise.

  “What? I’ve told you that before.”

  She studied me carefully. “You said maybe. You didn’t deny it.”

  “Working on that whole emotional availability thing,” I said slowly. “And until I can be sure that you’re not my current drug of choice, I’m not putting either of us in the position to feel that way.”

  She glanced pointedly to where our bodies were aligned.

  “Right. This is why I’m going to need another few months.”

  “To do what?”

  “I need to get through the spring...start the summer without the yearly downward spiral. Need to hit my year mark without leaning on you. That way, I know I can do it on my own, and you’ll know you can go slay the management world without stressing out that I’m going to lose it on tour without you. Plus, I kind of ignored the whole wait-a-year-before-starting-a-new-relationship advice, but I wasn’t expecting you—expecting this.”

  “So, you’re what? Asking me to wait?”

  “Yeah. I guess I am.” It hadn’t been planned, but seeing her again clarified the path. Waiting was the only logical course to take. For both of us.

  Her gaze shifted as she made her choice. “What do the numbers on your clock mean? The one on your chest?” She tapped her index finger right above the ink.

  The urge to shut down hit hard and fast, but I pushed it aside and focused on her eyes. “Seven twelve. July twelfth. Kaylee’s birthday.”

  Her brow furrowed. “You went to rehab on her birthday.”

  I nodded. “I tried a few times before, but I never made it through. The day she would have turned eighteen, I signed myself in and I stayed.” She would have been old enough to leave on her own. She wouldn’t have needed me.

  Zoe weighed my answer for a few very long, very quiet moments. “So, you need about three months.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “You’ll think about it?” I didn’t know whether to be frustrated or relieved.

  “I said I’ll think about it.” She shrugged, then pushed at my chest. “Your ten minutes are up.”

  “Come on, let’s get you back to the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse brigade.” I stuck out my hand, but she didn’t take it.

  “They’re not that young,” she muttered, headed for the door.

  “Yeah, they are. But you chose well. They might be almost as good as us one day.” I followed after her.

  “Cocky bastard.” She shook her head as we walked into the hallway.

  “At least you know what you’re getting into.”

  “Yeah. That’s part of the problem when it comes to you.” Her voice dropped.

  “Three months,” I repeated, devouring the sight of her and memorizing every single detail. “It’ll be over before you know it, and then it’s you and me.”

  “What makes you think I’ll wait it out?” She arched an eyebrow as she backed away, but there was a spark in those eyes.

  “Because you love me.” I folded my arms over my chest and watched her retreat, battling every instinct in my body to throw her over my shoulder and race back to Colorado.

  “Hmm. Is that so?”

  “It is, and I love you.” I didn’t give a shit who heard us in the hallway. “Three months, Shannon.”

  “Yeah, I heard you the first few times. Bye, Nixon.” She pivoted and walked off toward her band, pausing as Quinn said something in her ear. Zoe nodded, then disappeared around the corner.

  “How did it go?” Jonas asked as we walked with Quinn toward the stage twenty minutes later.

  “Guess we’ll see what happens in the ne
xt three months,” I answered, adjusting my guitar strap. I’d passed over the Nixon one she had made for me and chosen the one that read Zoe’s.

  “Okay then.” He clapped the back of my shoulder.

  “Hey, I have something I need to do in a few days, but I was thinking I might take you up on that invite afterward. Maybe come to Boston for a while? If the offer still stands.”

  “It always stands. It will be really good to have you.” He smiled. “Plus, it will give me time to bully you into putting ‘Merciful Fire’ on the album.”

  “I’m all for it,” Quinn chimed in. “It’s good.”

  “Not a chance in hell.” Zoe hadn’t even heard it yet.

  “We’ll see.”

  19

  ZOE

  “So, you’re together? Not together?” Naomi asked.

  “Yes? No? I’m honestly not sure.” I hit the speakerphone button and put the phone on my counter as I dug around in my refrigerator to find something for dinner. “I think we’re in limbo.”

  “Limbo?”

  “Yeah, limbo. You know, the place between heaven and hell—”

  “I know what limbo is. I just don’t understand how you’re in it.”

  “He asked me to wait three months.” I pulled out the takeout I’d ordered two nights ago and gave it a whiff. Smelled good to me. Plus, it was already eight thirty and I was starving. Getting Seven to One off the ground had me working around the clock, but we’d had some summer festival proposals sent our way today, so it was looking up.

  “And you said you’d think about it.”

  “What else was I supposed to say?” I popped the leftovers into the microwave.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Anything that would have given one of People’s Sexiest Men Alive a clear answer on whether or not he’s allowed to go sleep with other people?” Her voice rose.

  “He won’t.” I watched the plate spin round and round inside the microwave, debating what I’d thought was a cute little comment three days ago. “And if he does, then I guess we have our answer, don’t we?” Just the thought of it made my stomach curdle, but I was done feeling responsible for Nixon’s choices.

  “Are you sleeping with other people?”