by Emily Conrad
The moment when Harper laid her hand on Gannon half an hour ago flashed to mind. The inclusion of a song that expressed something other than selfless love or longing made the collection ring with authenticity.
The fourth song started. There had only been four files on the drive, so this was it, the song he’d composed this morning.
The house burned down, I’ll take the blame. The sparks keep catching, an open flame. Kerosene on my hands, and you’re a girl on fire. The ashes swirl higher, and I watch for a phoenix to rise. The story here will define our lives, and I’m praying a phoenix will rise.
Though it was the roughest and most incomplete of the songs he’d recorded, she could imagine the music fleshed out better than the others. By the third and final time the chorus repeated, she was tapping the rhythm she’d use for the bass line. Maybe she ought to go down to the studio and see if she could get anywhere close to the sound she had in mind.
“Look at you.”
Adeline started and sat up. The song had ended, but she hadn’t heard Tegan take up station in the doorway.
“Superior Dogs changed their dress code? Or …” Tegan slanted her head, eyes on the teal top Adeline wore. “Isn’t that mine?”
Adeline smoothed her hands over the fabric, stalling as her mind switched gears. “My church clothes didn’t seem quite right, so I raided your closet before I dropped off my resume for that job you’ve been telling me about. Since it’s the weekend, I was lucky they were open at all. I doubt any decision makers were there, but I figured better safe than sorry.”
“You applied?” Tegan perched on the edge of a nearby armchair.
Adeline lay back on the bed again. Gannon had accused her of wanting to retreat to her comfort zone, but those were all gone. The press hounded Superior Dogs, fangirls attended church to gather details about Awestruck, and her house had become a target for crazy fans. Adeline herself had changed. Even if she and Gannon didn’t move forward, she was dreaming up bass lines and applying for jobs. There was no going back.
“Asher replaced me with a high schooler—temporarily—but maybe it’s time I stop hogging a job a teenager would love and take my place in the world.”
Tegan hesitated, probably searching for something to say other than, It’s about time. “A high schooler couldn’t do your job at church.”
“I’m not so sure. I prayed a little bit about quitting, and I’ll take any changes one step at a time, but if the college job comes through, church will find a replacement easily enough. Anyway, I’m ready for money to not be so tight.” Pain slithered through her again at the memory of what Noah had said. “There’s a rumor I tried to burn down the house because I couldn’t afford the repairs.”
Tegan uttered a pfft. “People are unbelievable.”
“Yeah. Well …” The fire inspector might not think the rumors were so far-fetched. He’d asked again and again about what she’d done when and why. Maybe she ought to accept Gannon’s offer to pay for the repairs without an insurance claim. She’d rather endure romance rumors than accusations of arson. “You talked to Gannon?”
Tegan sighed, drummed her fingers on the armrest, and gazed out the window. “I’m not his biggest fan. Harper shouldn’t be here.”
Adeline studied the recessed ceiling over the bed. “I agree.”
“But?”
“He apologized. Gave me some of his songs to listen to.”
“And?”
And she was still hurt, afraid of more pain for both of them, but more in love with the man behind the songs than ever.
“I take it they were good songs,” Tegan said.
“I keep thinking about a bass line for one of them. It’s like playing for five minutes yesterday cracked open a door to music that I have to walk through now.”
Music and a new job—these had become needs that outweighed the discomfort of having to change. Could she add more change to the list? How long would it be until she felt peace dealing with the difficulties of being associated with fame? And could she safely rely on Gannon to help her through?
“I like him.” Adeline almost laughed at the understatement. “A lot. But I’m worried too, and his life is complicated. I’m praying about what to do, but do you think God will answer clearly enough for me to recognize Him?”
“I do, but you’ll have to be willing to hear, even if the answer isn’t what you want.”
Despite an ongoing breeze, the sun shone. Gannon stood at the wall on the cliff and watched the crests of waves foam and fade back to turquoise. A group of kayakers bobbed about sixty feet from the rocks, their progress slowed by the choppy lake. Farther out, a tourist ship rounded the side of the island on its way from the lighthouse to the marina.
He’d spent twenty minutes searching the cabin after his latest fight with Adeline so he could tell Harper to leave. She’d disappeared again. Somewhere in the cabin this time because security said she hadn’t left. To avoid him, she must’ve been purposely hiding.
When Gannon last looked back at the cabin, Matt, John, and Tim had been on the patio, lounging near the grill as dinner cooked. The sharp footfalls approaching wouldn’t be one of them, nor would it be Tegan or Adeline, who never wore heels tall enough to make this racket. He braced his hands on the wall and refused to turn.
Harper had called way too many of the shots as it was.
“You look so lonely out here.” Harper leaned against the stone an inch from his left hand, her back to the lake.
He didn’t turn his head. “I want you to leave.”
“Is this about Adeline? All I did was talk to her, and not even about you.”
“If you want to know about God, I’ll set up an appointment for you with a local pastor, but you can’t force me into letting you stay by winning Adeline’s sympathy.”
“That’s not what I was doing.”
“So you want that appointment with the pastor?”
“No, I found out I don’t need as much help as I thought I did.” Her chipper tone grated on him.
“You need to leave. Now.”
She chuckled. “Go ahead. Play that game. I’m onto you.” She laid her hand over his.
He pulled away, crossing his arms. Maybe his glare would tell her what his refusal to look at her hadn’t—he wasn’t playing any games.
Her mouth twitched with a smile. “You’re in love.”
Was that what these mangled emotions were? Frustration, desperation, concern, protectiveness. A longing to see Adeline happy. “Then you know why you need to go.”
“Why can’t we be open about it? She’ll get over it.” Harper flicked her fingers through her hair. “She can’t honestly think she can steal you from me.”
Adeline?
Harper adjusted her top, then folded her hands and stilled as if he were a photographer and she was now ready for her photoshoot.
“You think I’m in love with you?” He let disdain coat his voice. How else could he get through to her?
“You wrote a song about me.”
“You’re delusional.”
She waved dismissively. “You’re so cute. I was in your room. I found your notebook.”
He rubbed his hand over his heart. In his search, he hadn’t thought to look for her in his own room. “You have no right to be here at all, Harper, let alone to trespass in my room.”
Her shoulders lowered. “But the song—”
“Whatever you saw was about Adeline. The entire notebook, all of it is for her, songs dating back to before anyone outside your little hometown knew your name, let alone before I heard it. Understand? What you’re up against here isn’t something you can flirt into submission. For the hundredth time, you and I have. No. Future.”
“So that’s it? You never loved me? Never even cared about me?”
“How many times do I have to tell you?”
Though the glasses hid her eyes, her seething glare was obvious in the lines that formed around her mouth. “I hate you. I really hate you.”
/> He bit back the reply that the feeling was mutual. He stepped from the overlook to the yard. “I want you gone. Tonight.”
“What about everything that’s happened to me?” She flew up next to him, sank her nails into his arm. “What if he catches up to me again when I leave?”
She shouted the questions, but Gannon kept walking. Kept his eyes turned away. The performance would end when she realized she had no audience.
Except they did have one. Tegan and Adeline had joined the group on the patio, and all five faces had turned to watch.
“Fine. Well.” She whipped off her sunglasses, revealing the bruise, which had darkened. “We’re already on a cliff. Maybe I should take a step in the wrong direction, right? For all you care?” She loosened her grip and stepped back toward the short wall.
Gannon caught her wrist. “Call Karina.”
As much as he disliked Harper’s misguided life coach, Karina pandered to Harper’s ego and got her through her worst mood swings. He and Adeline already had one too many suicides on their consciences.
Harper glared at him, chest rising and falling fast.
“Now. Call her now.”
Harper yanked her hand free. “Why do I put up with you?”
Another sentiment he could parrot back to her. “Make the call.”
Anger set her jaw as tears welled in her eyes. Harper punched her index finger against her phone screen as she marched toward the cabin. She lifted the device to her ear as she stepped onto the patio. Though Gannon had stayed where he was, halfway between the cliff and the house, he heard her shout into the phone.
“He’s throwing me out on the street. He says I have to leave after I came all the way up here.” She stomped into the house.
The door slammed behind her.
All five faces turned back to him.
Then, as if nothing had happened, Matt and Tim resumed their conversation. Tegan looked at the door Harper had used. John focused on Gannon with an expression that seemed to say he’d done the right thing.
But Adeline dropped to a seat with her back to Gannon. If she’d listened to the songs, they hadn’t made enough of a difference.
There was too much to navigate here, too many conflicting opinions, too many eyes.
He let himself in the house, changed into riding gear, and tore off on his motorcycle.
25
The phoenix song played so fast, Adeline had to keep hitting pause and backing up the recording. It was hard to hear if she hit the right note at the right time because the bass guitar played through an amp, but the song played through her laptop.
She had ducked out of the home theater, leaving Tegan, John, Matt, and Tim watching a movie. Equipment more sophisticated than anything they’d had back in high school packed the studio. There must be a way to play Gannon’s recording through the speakers, but she’d barely been able to get the bass plugged in and working.
Then again, her inability to use the equipment was an excuse. The truth? She’d dreamed up an advanced part too complex for a beginner.
She could feel it—what the song could be, what she intended to play—like a desperate need, the way a person hungry for air felt pressure in their lungs. But her fingers on the strings brought dissonance, not satisfaction. She replayed the first ten seconds of the recording and hit pause. As she fit her fingers back on the strings of the bass, the studio door cracked open.
She hadn’t seen Harper or Gannon since the two had fought on the lawn. Had Gannon returned from his ride? If so, he would be disappointed at how poorly she played. It’d be one more step toward an answer from God that didn’t result in them being together.
Matt entered instead. His forehead furrowed when he saw her, and he seemed to assess her setup—the computer, the bass. “You lost?”
She bit her lip. “Gannon said this would be all right.”
“You think you have a right to be here?” He stepped in, shut the door, and leaned against it. “Prove it.”
He was going to stand there and watch? He wasn’t this confrontational or challenging to Gannon, but Gannon also had a confident presence she couldn’t muster while holding a bass she couldn’t play right.
She replayed Gannon’s recording again, delaying the embarrassment a little longer. When it ended, all she could imagine was flubbing up the notes. She pressed the play button one more time.
The song ended all too soon. Matt crossed his arms, blue eyes icy with interest.
Maybe she could nail it. Maybe the music she felt would come out this time. After all, she’d once been good at this. The knowledge had to be there somewhere. She hit replay and tackled a few notes.
One of them hit where she’d meant it to. The others fumbled and fell.
Matt pushed away from the door, took a cable from somewhere in the maze of cords, and plugged it into her laptop. He leaned over the jumble of equipment that crowded the desk and pressed a few buttons.
“Try that.” When she didn’t, he came around behind her and tapped the touch pad to play the recording again. This time, Gannon’s voice and guitar sounded steady and clear through the speakers.
Her wrong notes grated against the melody.
“I can see why they left you behind.”
Gannon wouldn’t allow him to speak to her like that, but Gannon wasn’t here. No arguments about her former skill would help when none of it remained.
Matt extended his hand, demanding the bass.
She handed it over, praying he’d do even worse than she had.
He fit the strap over his head and shrugged, settling the instrument where he wanted it before he gave a nod to start the recording. What he played varied from what she’d envisioned—the notes were simple and repetitive, but they fit the music, grounding the song. And this was the first attempt of a drug addict. If she let him keep working, he could probably build from there, elaborating. Or maybe such a thing wasn’t necessary—bass lines didn’t have to be complicated.
That was her problem. She made everything complicated.
The song ended, and Matt set the bass in its stand. “You’ll never replace me.”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
“Great.” He smirked as he opened the door. “’Cause you couldn’t if you wanted to.”
Shortly after eleven, Gannon pulled through the gate at Havenridge. Halfway down the drive, he spotted headlights through the trees, moving fast. He swerved to the inside of the curve just as Matt’s car roared past, taking the turn wide. Gannon’s headlight flashed through the windshield, revealing Matt in the passenger seat. The driver seemed to have trouble straightening out after the curve, and then the lights disappeared down the road.
Gannon pulled to a full stop. John was an expert driver, and Tim a good one. Adeline and Tegan wouldn’t have experience handling a supercar, but they’d also never team up with Matt for a joyride.
That ruled out everyone but Harper, who wasn’t as good of a driver as she thought she was. If she was out with Matt, she probably planned to come back to the cabin afterward, but that wasn’t happening. He’d already told her to leave and had given her space to do so. She was out of chances.
He texted security and asked them to pack her bags and have those and her rental waiting for her at the gate when she returned. If she wasn’t in shape to drive herself, a team member could deliver her to a hotel, but he wouldn’t allow her to terrorize his relationship with Adeline a moment longer.
Harper English was not coming back on this property.
Gannon proceeded down the drive. The cabin’s exterior lights glowed, but the windows were dark and blank. He parked and pulled off the helmet and jacket as he let himself into the house. Moonlight fell through the windows into the great room. Along the balcony, Matt and Harper’s bedroom doors stood open, black rectangles.
He climbed to the third floor and resisted turning toward Adeline’s room to see if she was still awake and had anything to say about the songs. Instead, he made his way toward John�
�s. Before he got close enough to knock, one of the dogs sniffed loudly from the other side of the door. Must’ve sensed him coming. Shortly after, John opened the door, the light of a lamp and TV casting shadows around him.
John backed up and settled against the headboard, his arm behind his head, eyes focused on the television, where a documentary about migrating birds played. “Feel better?”
“Not really.” Gannon sat at the desk and scratched Trigger’s gray fur while the other dog jumped up next to his master.
John leaned out of the range of Camo’s tail as the dog circled twice before dropping into a curled-up ball. “Addie holed up in the studio most of the evening.”
“I gave her recordings of some of the songs to work with. I wasn’t sure she would.” But she had. Would she let him hear her, or was accepting his music separate from accepting him?
“Matt’s losing points fast. I went down to check on him about twenty minutes ago. He was already wasted. When I asked what happened to straightening out, he said, ‘False alarm.’ They got a good laugh out of that.”
“Was she drinking too?”
“Looked that way.”
“Now she’s driving. They were leaving when I pulled in. Maybe we should try to catch up with them before they do real damage. Or land in jail.” If security hadn’t packed Harper’s things already, Gannon could throw it all in her luggage, take it with, and deliver her to a hotel himself, then bring Matt home before he made more trouble for himself or Awestruck. He stood and moved to the door.
John scoffed and shook his head, eyes still on the TV screen. “You want to go there? Playing Harper’s hero last night meant not being Adeline’s.”
“Isn’t she sleeping?”
“That’s exactly what she was doing when her house lit up.” He switched which arm was behind his head without looking Gannon’s direction. “Every time you try to save Harper, you’re telling Adeline another woman has a hold on you. You’re going to have to choose whose hero you want to be. Let the others fend for themselves.”
“It’s not just about Harper. She could hurt anyone they meet on the street, not to mention the fact that Matt’s risking a lot of bad press—or imprisonment. Or worse.”