I walk through the living room and open the sliding glass door that leads onto a small deck. Holden is leaning on the railing, staring at the dark street below.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t realize you were out here.”
He looks over his shoulder at me, and I can see his hair is damp from a shower. “You can’t sleep either?” he asks, his voice even now, without the threads of irritation and aggravation I’d heard in it earlier.
“No. Even though I’m pooped.”
“I’m not a big sleeper,” he says. “Plus Thomas snores.”
“You can take the room I’m in,” I say. “Really.”
He shakes his head. “We were roommates in college. If I’m in sleep mode, I don’t even hear him.”
I step closer to the railing, folding my arms across my chest. “How long have you two known each other?”
“We met freshman year.”
“Football?”
“Yeah.”
“When did you start the music thing?”
“Both of us for as long as we can remember. Together, pretty much right after we met.”
I nod and say, “Y’all are quite a match.”
“Thanks. We kinda get each other.”
“Not the easiest thing to come by.”
“This what you’ve always wanted to do?”
“Yeah. I loved watching Uncle Dobie with his band. He told me one time that the way to know if music was going to be your life was to decide whether or not you were willing to give everything else up for it. He never got married or had a family.”
“You think it’s gotta be like that?” he asks, looking at me.
“I think dreams can have a high price tag or everyone would be going after them.”
“Guess that’s true.”
“What did you leave behind to come here?” I ask.
“Why do you think I left something behind?”
“What’s her name?”
He throws a glance at the street and then turns to me. “Sarah.”
“Ah. Why didn’t she come with you?”
“She likes predictability. Security. About the only thing I can predict is that I will write another song. Even if the one I just wrote sucks. Even if I don’t think anybody’s ever gonna wanna hear it. I don’t know how not to write another one.”
I absorb each word, recognizing the truth of them as my own. “Sometimes, I wish I knew how to unplug that need inside of me. How to reprogram myself to want to do something that wouldn’t make my Mama so unhappy with my choices. That wouldn’t force me to walk so far out on a ledge I’m terrified of falling off of.”
He keeps his gaze on the street below us, and I have the feeling he’s forcing himself not to look at me. I wonder if I’ve said too much, revealed enough vulnerability that I’ve made him uncomfortable.
But then he does look at me, his eyes locking onto mine, and I feel like he’s drawing something up and out of me, a longing I’ve never felt before and am not even sure I could put a name to if asked. All I know is I can’t make myself look away. Even though he just told me there’s someone in his life. Even though every nerve ending is screaming at me to back up and go inside.
A car rolls by, its headlights throwing a shadow over us, and for a moment I see something in his face that I know as surely as I know my own name, I am in no way ready for. I sense that all I have to do to find out is place my hand on his chest, splay my fingers wide so that each tip absorbs the beat of his heart. In this moment, I want to do that as much as I have ever wanted to do anything. I close my eyes and imagine myself doing it or maybe I close them to stop myself from doing it.
“CeCe,” he says.
My name is a protest, uttered to me or to himself, I don’t know.
I let myself look at him then, and I feel the tug between us, as if an invisible cord now connects my heart to his. The stereo beat drums in my ears, and my pulse picks up its rhythm. I feel it in my wrists, my neck, the backs of my knees. My breathing has shortened, and I wilt forward like all the air has been let out of my bones.
His hands latch onto my shoulders, and he dips his head in, his mouth hovering over mine. I can smell the lemony scent of whatever soap he showered with. I tilt my head back, inviting him, imploring him.
When he steps away, I blink my eyes wide open and press a hand to my mouth.
“CeCe,” he says, my name sounding ragged and torn. I haven’t imagined that he wanted to kiss me. I can hear it in his voice, what it cost him to stop himself.
“What?” I manage, the question not really needing an answer.
“When the sun comes up, we’ll wish we hadn’t. You’re gonna need a place to stay until you get things together. I’m okay with that. But this would just complicate everything.”
He’s right. I know it. “You always have this much common sense?” I ask.
“No,” he says.
“Not sure I should be flattered by that.”
“I can be stupid if you really want me to be.” There’s teasing in his voice, but something else, too. I could make him change his mind if I wanted to. I can hear that. Common sense is now raining down on me, and I take a step backwards.
“Think I’ll try to get some sleep,” I say.
His phone rings. He pulls it from his pocket, glances at the screen, then at me. “Goodnight then.”
I step inside the apartment, close the door behind me, wondering if it’s Sarah who’s calling him in the middle of the night.
I start to walk toward the bedroom, then stop for a second, listening to the way his voice has changed. There’s tenderness in it, longing, and I realize he must miss her.
I’m suddenly grateful for whatever bolt of logic kept us from following through on instinct just now. Holden might have moved to Nashville without Sarah, but he hasn’t left her behind. Those are two very different things.
♪
Nashville: Part One – Ready to Reach available on Amazon.com at this link: http://amzn.to/RdS62M
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Chapter Forty-nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-one
Chapter Fifty-two
Chapter Fifty-three
Chapter Fifty-four
Chapter Fifty-five
Chapter Fifty-six
Chapter Fifty-seven
Chapter Fifty-eight
Chapter Fifty-nine
&nb
sp; Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-one
Chapter Sixty-two
Chapter Sixty-three
Epilogue
About Inglath Cooper
An Excerpt from Good Guys Love Dogs
Prologue
An Excerpt from Truths and Roses
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Nashville: Part One – Ready to Reach
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Jane Austen Girl - A Timbell Creek Contemporary Romance Page 31