Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series: Box Set 1

by Charli B. Rose

  ♪ All I Ever Needed by Bret Michaels

  Relief lifted Beckett’s features. “You are officially my most favorite person in the whole world. Izzy’s feet are forever in your debt.”

  “Dancing not your cup of tea?” Dawson asked with a smirk.

  “Not even a little bit. I inherited my dad’s complete lack of rhythm. Please, dance. I’m going to go get a drink.”

  Beckett tucked my hand into Dawson’s warm one. With a spin, Dawson twirled me deeper onto the floor. I settled into the familiar space within his hold. As his feet matched the beat of the song, he pulled me along until my feet found the steps of our dance from years ago. Shock dropped my jaw as he led me through quick steps, twirls, dips and everything in between.

  “You remembered.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I remember everything, Izzy. Even the routine you choreographed for us to do at senior prom because you’d watched all those dance movies,” he said earnestly, his eyes sparkling.

  I couldn’t believe he remembered the steps. He’d teased me mercilessly when we practiced. But like a saint, he went along with it because it was what I wanted. After a few more complicated steps, we both giggled and settled into dancing like normal people. Well, normal people with a mountain of past wedged between them.

  I glimpsed a scrap of red peeking out from his leather wrist band. It couldn’t be. Could it? Dragging my thumb across his palm, I pressed against the thread. A shift of his hand caused the rest of the red item to come into view. It was a bracelet made of red thread with a hint of pink. A friendship bracelet I’d made for him years ago. The matching one was stashed away in my jewelry box.

  “Still wearing that old thing,” I teased, though my throat caught.

  “It’s one of my most prized possessions.”

  I leaned back, gauging the sincerity of his words.

  His eyes tic-tocked over my face. Searching. Finding.

  “I’ve really missed your face,” he murmured, his voice husky.

  “Me too.” I didn’t even hear the words, but he either heard them or read my lips because joy lit up his features like the sun.

  “I don’t want to go back,” he said.

  “Back to where?”

  “Back to not talking or seeing each other. Please say you want me in your life again.” His eyes shone with so many emotions, I couldn’t decipher them all. Definitely hope, desire, affection, regret, and… love?

  I swallowed hard. I did want him in my life. But what would it cost me? My control? My sanity? My new life? My heart?

  “Flutterby?”

  “Dawson, for years you were my very best friend before we were anything. And when it all fell apart, I didn’t just lose my boyfriend and lover, I lost the most important person to ever be in my life. I do want us to be friends again. But I’m scared. So much happened. So much has changed,” I whispered, unable to be less than honest with him.

  “Shh.” He squeezed my hand. “We’ll take it one conversation at a time. You were my everything. Are my everything. I can’t be without you. We’ll go as slowly as you need, so long as you promise you’ll try.”

  I tucked my head under his chin, so I could listen to his heart beat in time with mine. Everything in that moment was so right… and so wrong. I didn’t have the ability to say no to his request. “I promise I’ll try.”

  The song went on too long yet ended too soon. As he ushered me back to the table where Beckett waited, my heart was more conflicted than ever.

  Beckett beamed at me as I slid into my seat. “That right there put my pathetic shuffle to shame. Where did you two learn to dance like that?”

  “Izzy made up the routine after watching a bunch of dance movies. Then she made Dawson learn the steps so they could be the center of attention at our senior prom,” Brittany said, shaking her head, no doubt recalling the crowd’s response to our antics. Our senior prom experience was something Dawson and I planned together. It wasn’t quite the same as junior prom where he surprised me. But senior prom at both our schools were moments to cherish and remember.

  ♪ I Remember You by Skid Row

  “Did it work?” Beckett asked.

  “What do you think?” Brittany scoffed.

  “I think they were probably the talk of the prom,” he retorted.

  “You’d be right, Dr. Beckett,” I said with a smile.

  “I’m in awe. And you still remembered the steps after all this time too. Very impressive.” Beckett planted a kiss on my cheek. “I hope you don’t expect to twirl around like that at the fundraising ball in a few weeks.”

  “Your shuffle-squash-my-toes routine will be just fine,” I teased.

  “Hardy-har-har. So, Dawson, do you fill your down time with dancing?” Beckett leaned forward to look at Dawson.

  “Ha… no. I only danced for Izzy.” He smiled at me, warming every cell in my body, sending healing fire along the cracks of my heart.

  “What to do you do on the tour bus to keep from dying of boredom?” Beckett asked.

  “Write. Read. Play video games. Sleep.” Dawson ticked off the items on his fingers

  “Sounds exciting. You read any good books lately?” Beckett asked. He loved to read biographies and science fiction.

  “Recently, I read a book by an indie author, Katy Regnery called After We Break.”

  “You’re reading contemporary romance novels?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  “Yeah. I still like them.” He shrugged.

  “How do you know that book, Isabelle? I thought you only read mysteries and thrillers,” Beckett asked.

  “I used to read a lot of contemporary romance, especially rocker romance. Seems a bit indulgent that you’d be reading about rock stars, huh, Dawson?” I teased.

  “Maybe. But that book is more about second chances. I highly recommend it. Izzy here is the one who got me interested in indie authors. And if I remember correctly, that book was on her to-be-read list. And I read that series you recommended to me years ago by Cassia Leo—the Shattered Hearts series. It was a second-chance romance too. You’re the one who made me a sucker for those types of stories. And speaking of your to-be-read list, I have a new one for you to add. Lee Piper’s Lie to Me is another one in the same vein.” He took a sip of his drink.

  “You mean rocker romance,” I said with a giggle.

  “Well, yeah. But I meant second chances,” he said with a smirk.

  “Did you guys share book recommendations or something?” Beckett asked, his brow furrowing as he tried to figure out our veiled conversation.

  “Or something,” I murmured as Dawson explained, “When I was traveling, it was easy to feel disconnected from everything that mattered. From home. Izzy and I would pick a book to read together. We’d talk about it every day. It helped keep me grounded and connected doing a mundane task with her.”

  “Makes sense. What all did you two read?” Beckett asked, ever the curious one.

  “We read news articles together and some magazines—” I started.

  “And some mysteries. A few horror stories, but not if Izzy was going to be home alone,” Dawson chuckled.

  “Hey, some of those books were uber creepy. Like that book Dead Silence by KG Reuss.” I shuddered remembering the haunted girl and the shadow who was always lurking. “They gave me nightmares and made me paranoid,” I defended myself in a huff.

  “We read some sci-fi. But mostly we read romance novels because they were Izzy’s favorites. We even read—”

  My face flushed deep red. “Don’t you say it.”

  “The book that shall remain nameless. Actually, the whole trilogy that shall remain nameless,” he offered with mischief glittering in his eyes.

  Oh, hell. The heat was no longer confined to my face. It was racing south at breakneck speeds as I recalled the pleasure we got out of reading that particular trilogy together. “I can’t believe you would tell anyone you read that yourself,” I admonished, still mortified he hinted that he and I read that toge
ther.

  Humor filled his tone as he said, “Hey, it was totally worth reading to see you turn fifty shades of red.”

  Like now. “Kill me now,” I muttered under my breath. Thankfully, Beckett didn’t seem to get the joke.

  Brittany popped up between us, interrupting and saving me from my embarrassment. I hadn’t even noticed that she’d got up and left after we returned from dancing. “Come on, Isabelle. They’re about to play our jam.”

  “What? No,” I protested as she tugged on my hand.

  I was torn between staying to see how much more embarrassing the conversation at the table could get or following Brittany to the dance floor. The beat to “Low” by Flo Rida started, and I shook my head. There was no way I was getting on the dance floor with her. Not in this dress and certainly not in these shoes.

  ♪ Low by Flo Rida

  “I don’t think I can remember the routine,” I whined.

  “Yes, you can. It’s like riding a bike. You never forget the steps,” Brittany urged.

  “B-but my shoes—”

  “Take ‘em off.” She leaned down and unfastened her own.

  With a sigh, I bent over and unbuckled my strappy shoes, then got to my feet.

  “Have fun,” Dawson called behind me.

  Stepping into the empty space in front of the DJ, I listened for a couple of beats. Brittany was right, I didn’t forget the steps.

  Memory took over as I slipped into the hip-hop routine we learned in dance class our sophomore year. In spite of myself, I started to let loose and have fun, for the first time in over two years. Dancing with Brittany was liberating. So when the song ended, I stayed out there with her. On the dance floor, with the pulse of the music making my heart beat, I was able to forget the confusion I felt sitting at the table, torn between my past and my present.

  Chapter 4

  Dawson

  “Izzy dances? I mean not just slow dances, but like really dances?” Beckett asked as we all watched the pair of girls move in perfect synchrony on the floor.

  ♪ Moves by Olly Murs

  I chuckled and took in the bewildered expression on his face. “Yeah. She’s been dancing since she was a kid. Ballet, tap, hip-hop. She was always a natural at it. But she never loved it like she loved art. To her, dancing was another form of art. A way of expressing herself. But dance didn’t have the permanence of creating.”

  Beckett nodded with my assessment. “Makes sense I guess. But she never dances. Not even around the house when she’s cleaning. I had no idea that she was so… good at it.”

  “Izzy doesn’t go out dancing anymore? Since when?” The girl I knew couldn’t be still.

  My blood heated as a familiar beat dropped. I couldn’t take my eyes off Izzy teaching her grandmother how to wobble. Closing my eyes, I could still feel her pressed against me, wobbling with me so many times in the past. Beckett’s voice dragged me out of the delicious hell I was traveling towards in my mind.

  “I’ve never known her to go out at all. I mean, when we met, she wasn’t in any condition to go out. And then when she got better, she didn’t go out. Except to find inspiration.”

  “So, how serious are things?” I asked.

  “You mean her illness or our relationship?” he asked nonchalantly.

  What the hell? May as well ask what I really want to know, no one was paying attention to our conversation anyway. “Um… Let’s go with your relationship.”

  “It’s still young. But I think a lot of her. She’s a very special person. And ah… I only met her parents outside of the hospital last month. Oh, I did ask her to move to Atlanta, but she’s still thinking about it,” he rambled.

  “What do your parents think of her?” I asked.

  “They haven’t met her yet. My dad’s a doctor for Doctors Without Borders, so he and my mom live overseas. I haven’t seen them in two years.” Beckett took a sip of his water.

  “Following in your dad’s footsteps, huh?” My gaze strayed back to the dance floor. Nana was getting her groove on, and Izzy seemed genuinely happy.

  “Yeah, and my granddad’s. Watching my dad fix people as a kid made me really want to heal people. I can’t really put the feelings into words.” He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands.

  “So, would you want your kid to become a doctor too? Keep up the family tradition.” I was curious about the type of future Izzy might have with this man.

  “I don’t want kids. That’s actually one of the things Isabelle and I bonded over,” he explained.

  “Huh?” I couldn’t have heard him right. Izzy had always wanted to be a mom.

  “Yeah, neither of us wants to be parents. It’s so strange how everyone just assumes when you reach a certain age that this desire to procreate switches on. It was nice to have the pressure of that conversation not be an issue when we started dating. We both already wanted the same thing, so neither of us had to talk the other into a different way of thinking.”

  “I see.” But I didn’t see. Not at all. Had Izzy really changed that much in two years? I needed to change the subject before I corrected him on his views about Izzy and motherhood.

  Glancing around and finding it was just the two of us at the table now, I decided to ask one of the things that had been weighting on my mind, “Do you make it a habit to date your patients?”

  The guy had the decency to look at the table as he answered, “No. Never. I’d always heard about the lines getting blurry with patients for some doctors. I never understood it, at least, not until Isabelle. And then the lines disappeared. But I did wait until she was no longer officially my patient before I asked her out.”

  “I’m not trying to sound judgy. It’s just that Izzy is really important to me. She deserves the best, and I want to make sure this wasn’t your MO or something and that she’d wind up hurt,” I explained.

  “I understand, man. You guys have been friends forever. A few years of separation doesn’t erase that. You know, I’m not even sure when I started to notice her as more than a bright, young woman who needed fixing. Even looking back over each moment, I can’t pinpoint when the shift happened,” he sounded stunned just thinking about it.

  I understood that. I couldn’t say when Izzy became more for me either. It was a gradual thing, like slowly sinking in quicksand or standing in a light mist gradually getting drenched. And by the time I realized it, it was way too late to change things. But it still took me a while to act on it. Fear was a powerful thing. It still was.

  “What was it like when she was sick?” I asked softly, ripping my napkin into thin strips while I waited for his answer.

  “By the time I became involved in Isabelle’s case, she was in bad shape. Very weak. Lost a lot of weight. Pale…” his voice was filled with sorrow, not at all clinical.

  “I can’t even imagine… But once the experimental treatments started to work, she was fine?” I asked, hope making my words sound lighter.

  “For the most part. She did have a setback in June of last year. I was really scared,” he admitted.

  “What happened?” I scooted forward in my chair, afraid to miss a syllable.

  “She was traveling. You know, creating art based off locations on her bucket list,” his tone said he still couldn’t imagine why she’d do that.

  A dull ache spread through my chest as I nodded.

  “Anyway, she was outside of Austin and got really sick. When I video chatted with her, I noticed she seemed off. She tried to wave off my concerns. When she was worse the next day, I called a colleague in the area to go check on her until I could get to her. Things were bad. The possibility of kidney rejection was very real.” His face was so serious.

  “Damn,” I whispered.

  “I got to her as quickly as I could. And I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared as I was seeing her in that bed, practically unresponsive.” He swallowed thickly and looked me directly in the eyes. “Anyway, I got her back to Atlanta, and after a few weeks in the hospital, she was fin
e. Her body didn’t reject the kidney.”

  “But it was in the process?” I choked out, unable to fathom a world where Izzy no longer existed.

  “We don’t know for sure either way. The hospital administered different anti-rejection meds. She could’ve just gotten really sick from spending too much time outside getting lost in her creations. All I do know is that seeing her like that…” He took a sip of his water. “Seeing her like that was a wake-up call for me. I didn’t want to waste another minute tiptoeing around my feelings for her. So, I asked her to take our relationship from casual to serious.”

  “I-I can’t even picture her in that state.” My nose burned with the effort of holding my tears in.

  “I’ll never forget it.”

  “But she’s OK now?” I needed his reassurance.

  “Statistically speaking, she has a good chance of living a long life. Now, there could always be something unforeseen that pops up since we don’t even have a name for her illness and the treatment was experimental. But I have every hope she’ll be just fine,” he said in true doctor speak.

  “God, I hope so. The thought that Izzy might not live long enough to realize her art dreams, long enough to get married, to be a mom… it guts me,” I whispered as my voice cracked.

  “Some of those things may still not happen. The future isn’t certain for anyone. But she’s doing well physically speaking now.”

  Before I could speak more, Izzy’s dad approached me. “Dawson, are you ready?”

  He looked a little green around the gills as he tugged on his collar.

  “Yeah. Let me go grab Brooks. We’ll meet you by the piano.” Turning to Beckett, I said, “Be back. Got to help Andrew with a thing.”

  Moving through the crowd still moving on the dance floor, I found Brooks with Brittany and Izzy. “Yo, man. He’s ready for us. Come on.”

  “Who’s ready for you?” Izzy asked as she stopped gyrating at the sight of me.