by Leigh Landry
A couple months ago, he might have bought her a drink without a second of hesitation. But as much as he’d like it to be true, a hot girl in a bar wasn’t going to make him forget about Brandy.
Not that he even wanted to forget about her. He sure as hell didn’t deserve a reprieve from his guilt.
They’d served together for five years. While Tyler was done with the heat, the gear, the death…all of it, Brandy didn’t waste a second reenlisting. Tyler knew there wasn’t a damn thing he could have done to save her, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should have been there.
“Damn. Went that well with the sister, huh?” Darren sat in the empty bar stool the brunette had been eying.
Tyler had texted him on his way to the bar to let him know where he’d be. It was only a couple blocks away from the Cuban restaurant, and they met there pretty often to watch football games when Tyler wasn’t offshore. He had a feeling his friend would show up after work, even though he told him he wanted to mope alone.
“Worse,” Tyler replied.
He’d gone straight from Lauren’s parents’ house to the bar. He needed to be around people and noise and to turn off that charge Lauren had turned on in him.
So far he’d gotten the noise and the people, but that was it. He was still as charged up as he had been sitting next to her. He could still feel the heat of her arm touching his. Still feel his heart racing when she leaned up toward his face.
“What’s worse than you drinking alone and turning down hot women looking to score more than a free drink? And yes, I saw the tail end of that when I walked in.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“All right.” Darren took the beer the bartender handed him. “We’ll just sit here and pretend like nothing happened.”
Tyler finished his beer, while Darren kept his word and sipped beside him in silence. They both stared at the TV, pretending to give a shit about the game.
“I think she tried to kiss me.”
Darren, to his credit, kept his eyes on the TV. “Oh yeah? What a bitch.”
“Shut up.”
Darren sighed and turned to face Tyler. “Let me guess. You bolted.”
Tyler didn’t answer. Of course he’d bolted. It was the right thing to do. Lauren didn’t need some grief-fuck from him, even if she had initiated the whole thing. That wouldn’t have been good for anyone.
“So why are you sitting in a bar alone, drinking yourself stupid, if you didn’t want to kiss her?” Darren asked.
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to.”
Of course he’d wanted to. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to do something more than he’d wanted to kiss Lauren in that moment.
“Then why’d you run out with your tail between your legs?”
“It’s not because I don’t want to kiss her. It’s because I can’t kiss her.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.” The words slurred more than Tyler expected. It was going to be a long stumble home.
“Well, you’re an idiot,” Darren said. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
Darren took a long look at his friend and roommate and sighed. “So what are you going to do now? Got a plan?”
Tyler laughed. “Does it look like I have a plan? This is my plan.”
“Remind me not to let you help me plan anything, ever.”
“Noted.”
Darren shook his head. “Seriously. How you going to fix this?”
“I’m not.”
“Wrong answer.”
Darren called the bartender over to close out their tabs. Tyler somehow managed to sign his bill, and they stumbled out onto the sidewalk together. Darren only had to steady him twice until Tyler found a bit of upright momentum.
Luck had always been on Tyler’s side when it came to finding good friends. Darren was no exception.
“I’m fine,” Tyler said. “I’ll make it home. You stay out. Have fun, man.”
“Nope. We’re gonna walk home together, and you’re gonna tell me all about how you plan to apologize for running out on this girl, and how you plan to kiss her first next time.”
“Who said I’m doing any of that?”
Darren stopped and looked at him with a fierce glare. “Did I stutter?”
* * * * *
With both hands wrapped around the mug, Lauren took a small test sip. The liquid went down easy and warmed her insides, a welcome sensation on a chilly morning. In addition to being the perfect temperature, the dark roast was also perfectly brewed thanks to her parents’ fancy new coffee maker. Definitely a perk of being home. At least temporarily.
Who was she kidding? She had no exit strategy here. Temporary was going to stretch out to indefinite if she wasn’t careful.
Which was a big reason why this audition was so important. Even if the gig was as temporary as she hoped her stay with her parents would be, it was her ticket to a security deposit and independence. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted this gig.
Plus, learning a few new songs would make an excellent distraction from a sexy-as-sin ex-soldier she couldn’t shake from the back of her brain.
And other parts of her.
Tyler had stirred up feelings she’d never expected to have right now. Sure, he was hot. Sure, she’d had a crush on him for years. But her overwhelming physical response to him—her desire to touch him, to kiss him, to do all sorts of things to him—had taken her off guard. So she’d acted on that fire in her.
And now she was stewing in embarrassment and regret.
Lauren set the mug on Brandy’s nightstand and picked up the fiddle lying in the open case on her bed. She could have grabbed her own violin from her room, but Brandy’s instrument called to her that morning.
She admired the craftsmanship. Their grandfather had been a fiddle-maker and carpenter out in Mamou and made both of their instruments. She adjusted the strings until it was in tune, then slid the bow back and forth a few times, testing it out and getting a feel for it. Then, she played an old Cajun lullaby, one of the tunes they used to play as kids all the time. She was rusty, but playing such a familiar song on this instrument felt more like coming home than actually coming home had.
When she finished the song, she took a little victory sip of her coffee. Not too shabby for not even picking up an instrument for a while.
Lauren opened the laptop she’d brought in with her and typed a few words in the search bar. A few seconds later, she found a video of Robin’s band, Les Cinq Couillons, playing at a local festival.
The song was a traditional Cajun waltz, “Jolie Blonde”, with Robin singing the lyrics in French. Lauren watched Camille, their fiddler, and studied her movements. With the slow waltz, she might as well have been on a concert stage. Camille closed her eyes and swayed with the movement of her bow, lost in the music for most of the song. It all looked familiar enough to Lauren. Easily something she could do, especially since she’d played a version of this one in their family band.
Lauren paused the video and found the right note to start the chorus. She played long notes, dragging her bow slowly across the strings as her fingers changed positions and chords. A few moments later, she unpaused the video and fumbled over notes until she found the right progression. The chord changes were familiar. She just needed to match the way Camille moved through them. She listened, then played a few bars and jotted on a legal pad to remind herself of some of the transitions and how many times they repeated some of the sections.
After a little more experimentation, Lauren restarted the video from the beginning and played along with the band through the whole song. She knew this tune, but it had been a while since she’d played it, so she dropped a few beats and missed a couple of changes, but it wasn’t too bad. She could get this down with another pass or two.
She scrolled through the list of similar videos and found another by the group. When she pressed play, her heart squeezed so tightly she could h
ardly breathe.
The song was a quick two-step. She’d played a lot of these as a kid, but this one had a busy countermelody. So many notes.
Lauren started to panic watching Camille attack the song. She had to force herself to take a breath. As she exhaled, she listened closer. The fiddle line was a lot of runs. Most of it was predictable and patterned. It would take more time to learn than the waltz, but she could do this. Maybe even before the audition that night.
But the music wasn’t the only hurdle. In fact, it was the least of her problems.
Even if she could learn an entire set worth of music, Lauren couldn’t pull off this kind of a performance. She was used to sitting on stage in a chair hidden in a sea of other string players. At most, a solo required standing alone on stage wearing a black pantsuit or dress in front of a darkened audience. On that stage, she knew people were out in that sea of black, but she could pretend they weren’t there and that she was alone with her music.
This? This was completely different. This kind of performance was a give and take with an audience, almost like a dance, with the sun shining down on the whole thing. The performance was almost as important as the music itself.
Lauren’s stomach twisted in knots at the thought of it.
With a shake of her head, she closed the laptop and set the fiddle on the bed. There was no way she could do this.
She would have to admit that she was out of her league and back out. She should have been honest with Robin in the first place, but since she’d let Robin think she could do this, now she would have to call and back out. It would be way better than embarrassing herself in the audition. Or worse, on stage.
Her phone rang on the nightstand beside her coffee mug. Lauren thought for half a second that it must be Robin calling to tell her they’d changed their minds or found someone else or that Camille had come back from wherever she was. Anything to put Lauren out of her misery.
But it wasn’t Robin.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey there.” His voice was scratchy, and Lauren could hear soft jazz playing in the background. “How’s it going?”
“Oh, great.” Lauren looked around at Brandy’s room, still untouched. “How’s the trip so far?”
“Good, good. I’m in the lobby. Your mother’s talking to someone at the front desk about a leaky faucet in our bathroom. We’re about to go out for breakfast and walk around the Quarter.”
“Did she get her bananas foster yet?”
“You know it. First meal here, after dinner last night.”
Lauren laughed. “Good.”
“So.” He cleared his throat. “Made any progress?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as shaky as that lie felt.
“Lauren.” Her father’s voice dropped half an octave. “If this is too much for you—”
“It’s not.”
Even if it was, she had to do it. Her mother was the fragile one right now. Her mother needed to be protected, because Brandy had been the oldest. The firstborn. Lauren made a pretty sorry substitute.
Going through Brandy’s things had been her idea. And she’d wanted to do this for them. But it was turning out to be a lot harder than she’d anticipated.
“Listen, you don’t need to make huge decisions about sentimental things,” her dad said. “Just go through her clothes while we’re gone. And anything else that you know your mother won’t—or shouldn’t—care about. Games, movies, shoes. Give them away so someone else can use them. You know Brandy would want that anyway, instead of her things locked up in her room like some kind of shrine.”
He was right, of course.
She took a deep breath. “I can do that.”
And she could. Absolutely.
She just wished she could have her mom and dad with her to do it.
“Looks like your mother’s done, so we’re going to head out now. Love you, Lauren. Thanks for this.”
She fought to steady her voice and said, “Love you too, Dad.”
Lauren put the phone down and stared at it for a few seconds. She couldn’t call Robin now. She was too emotional.
She walked over to the closet and opened the door. After a few moments frozen, staring at the neatly hung clothing, organized by type and color, she was ready to have herself a good cry before starting the task at hand.
Well, at least she didn’t have to waste half the day practicing anymore. And she sure as hell didn’t need to be kissing Tyler. He’d done her a huge favor by jetting out last night. She needed to focus on clearing out Brandy’s room.
Millie barked from the kitchen. Dang it. Lauren had forgotten to take her out for a walk after she fed her.
She threw a hoodie over her T-shirt and pajama pants and grabbed the leash to meet Millie. The yappy dog was scratching at the front door, and Lauren mentally crossed her fingers that the dog could hold her pee for just five more seconds while she slipped on an old pair of sneakers.
Thankfully, Millie held it together long enough for Lauren to open the door, but she barely made it to the grass on the end of the leash before she squatted and let loose while Lauren locked the door behind her.
The sound of tires turning into the driveway behind Lauren caught her attention, and she turned to see a truck pulling to a stop.
Not a truck.
Tyler’s truck.
Her breath quickened and she looked for cover, as if she could hide in the bushes before he saw her half in her pajamas. But those bushes were only dwarf azalea bushes, and they wouldn’t even hide her knees. She considered running back inside and pretending not to be home, but her car was parked right beside his.
While she debated exit strategies, Tyler walked around the truck holding a plastic bag. He locked eyes with her and headed straight for her.
Too late to hide now.
Chapter 5
The look on Lauren’s face when he walked around the truck made him worry she was going to hide in the bushes from him. But he continued to walk toward her, faking confidence and ease, and her expression softened as he got closer.
“What did you find this time?” she asked. “More video games or more movies?”
Lauren held Millie’s leash loosely in one hand and eyed Tyler with a playful but hesitant smile. She wore black knit pajama pants with smiling cartoon coffee cups on them and a thick, bright red UL-Lafayette hoodie. Her coppery hair was tied in a messy knot on top of her head, and her pale cheeks were already flushed from the wind chill. He resisted the urge to drop the bag and warm her face with his palms.
“Neither.” Tyler stopped in front of her and held up the bag in his hand. “Donuts and boudin kolaches. I wasn’t sure which you’d want.”
Lauren put a hand on her stomach as her pupils widened with delight. “Is ‘both’ an acceptable answer?”
“Always.”
“Thanks,” she said, but didn’t reach for the bag.
He lowered his arm and rubbed the side of his face with his other hand. His arms fought to wrap themselves around her. To hold her close against him and shield them both from their grief and this painful awkwardness.
Somehow he kept his arms in check.
“I’m sorry I rushed out of here last night.”
Lauren bit her lip. “I’m sorry if I made things weird. I was—”
“No, no, no. It’s fine.” He sighed and looked past her at the front door. “I’ve been having a hard time dealing with her being gone. Especially since I couldn’t make it back for the funeral.” He rubbed his face again. “Nothing feels real, you know?”
“Yeah, I know,” she said. “It was too much. I shouldn’t have asked you to help.”
He was losing her. He could see it in her eyes. She was going to turn him away. For her own good or his or whatever other reason was going on in her head.
He couldn’t let her. He needed this. He needed to get through this with her.
“That’s the thing. I still think I need to be here. To help.” He to
ok a deep breath. “To make it feel real.”
Lauren hesitated. Her jaw was set tightly, and he thought for sure she was going to push him away.
“Two extra hands, should go twice as fast,” he added.
She pressed her lips together in a tight little smile and nodded. “Okay.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you having to do this by yourself.”
She looked at the ground, focusing on Millie when Tyler tried to make eye contact. It killed him that she couldn’t even look at him now. And it was all his fault for running out. Especially since he’d wanted more than anything to reach out and meet her lips with his own.
“If you’re sure you’ll be okay, yeah, I’d appreciate the help.”
He held up the bag again. “Which will it be first, then? You need fuel for this.”
She smiled. “I was just taking Millie for a walk. But you can go in and get started on that fuel.”
Seizing the opportunity to do something helpful, Tyler shook his head and swapped the bag for the leash. “I’ll take her. Millie and I need to catch up anyway.”
“Are you sure?”
Millie was already prancing proudly down the driveway beside him.
“Had a donut in the car,” he called out over his shoulder.
“Cheater!”
“Delivery fee!” he shouted back.
He was past their house on the sidewalk before he finally relaxed and could enjoy his walk with Millie. He’d never admit it to a living soul, but he missed that yappy little dog when Brandy was gone for months at a time and he didn’t have an excuse for being around her parents’ house.
But the walk felt good for more reasons than just bonding with the dog. This was something he could do. A helpful task that didn’t involve questioning his feelings or asking himself why he was there every time he looked into Lauren’s eyes.
He knew she forgot to eat when she was stressed. It was one of the many things he remembered about her. So he was glad to bring her breakfast, even if it was part of his plan to get inside that house. To get his own closure. To get closer to her, whether or not that was a good idea.