He did a double take like he hadn’t heard me.
“Oh you heard me,” I said. “My mother, the one who everyone thought crashed and died in the ocean? Alive and well and at our beach house looking for us. Five. Years. Later.”
“Whoa,” Will said, leaning back against the counter. “Are you okay?”
“No.” I swallowed and dropped my eyes. “I’m not okay.”
He pulled me into him again. “I’m so sorry. I...wow, that’s crazy.”
Right?
“What about the guy? The crew on the plane? What happened?”
“I don’t know. I...she just...I have no idea... I...” I managed before the sobs overcame me.
He pulled me tighter. “Shhhh, it’s okay. Please...just ignore that I asked—I’m just shocked, is all. Oh, Nessa, I’m so sorry.” He sighed and then pressed a kiss to my temple.
He got it. He knew, without me telling him anything other than the bare minimum, what was killing me right now.
And he seemed to know exactly what I needed as he held me, humming a tune into my hair. Several breaths later, when I was able to focus, I began to recognize the song. “Is that With or Without You?”
“Yeah,” he said and then resumed the song, this time singing the words softly.
“I didn’t know you liked U2,” I said.
“Well, when you’re an insomniac, and you sit up front with Gary, you get to hear a lot of it.”
I smiled because I was very familiar with Gary’s love of the band.
“So you must know the entire Joshua Tree album by heart by now.”
Will laughed, the rumble of it under my cheek making we want to snuggle into him more. “Pretty much.”
“One Tree Hill’s my favorite,” I said, apropos of nothing, and then leaned back to look up at him. “Thank you, by the way.”
He nodded but looked so freaking kissable that I couldn’t help but stretch up to press my lips against his.
I didn’t push for the kiss to become more than the thank you that it was, but I tightened my grip on him as I snuggled back into his chest, not ready to leave the comforting circle of his arms.
He didn’t say anything but gave me another temple kiss—my new favorite thing.
“You’re a good kisser,” I said into his shirt before I even realized the words were out of me. When had I become the girl who blurts things out? When my mom returned from the dead, I guess.
“Um, thanks?” He made it sound like a question.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, looking up at him.
“Nothing. It’s just a weird compliment.”
I loved that he was blushing. I hated that I was, too, but on him it was adorable. “You don’t seem surprised, though,” I noted.
He shrugged and avoided my eyes.
Right. Obviously, I knew I wasn’t the first girl he’d kissed, but... “Emmeline told you, didn’t she?”
He looked down at me, seeming surprised that I’d bring up his ex. Hell, I was surprised, but I was now She Who Blurts Things. “Emmie? Yeah, I guess.”
I smacked his arm, but not hard. “How many girls have told you that you’re a good kisser?” Also: how many girls have you kissed? But I couldn’t ask him that. Not this early in what was not yet a relationship.
He grinned down at me. “I’m going to plead the fifth here.”
“Ugh,” I said. “You are such a player, boy band.”
He squeezed me tighter. “I’m not. It’s not a lot of girls, okay?”
I lifted a suspicious eyebrow.
“I’m serious,” he said, laughing uncomfortably, blushing harder, becoming even adorabler. “Just a few. I just...I’ve been told, that’s all. But can we stop talking about that? It’s embarrassing.”
“All right. I’d rather be getting kissed than talking about your sordid kissing past anyway,” I said.
His eyes drifted down to my mouth, and I was sure I was about to be kissed.
Until there was a kerchik sound that we both knew meant someone was coming aboard.
Crap.
“To be continued,” Will whispered as he backed up from me and I ached the loss of his touch.
I turned toward the s’mores and repositioned them so I could put the plate in the microwave to melt the chocolate.
“The natives are getting restless,” Andres said as he came up the stairs. “Please tell me there’s more of those s’mores, or Darren’s going to have my—wait, am I interrupting something?”
“What?” I said a little too loudly as I whirled toward him, the crackers sliding off the plate and onto the floor.
His gaze flicked from me to Will and back. He must have figured it out, or at least guessed because his eyes narrowed.
“You’re not interrupting anything,” Will assured him as he bent to pick up the food off the floor. “I just wanted to make sure Nessa had an extra set of hands to bring all this stuff out.”
Andres looked at me, and I didn’t trust myself not to give anything away in my tone, so I simply nodded.
He stared at me for a long moment while his mental gears seemed to turn and I held my breath, trying to look innocent. And unkissed, though suddenly, under his scrutiny, it felt like my lips were big and swollen, obvious tells to what we’d been doing.
Finally, he seemed to shake it off and went for the pantry, grabbing a couple bags of chips before he muttered something and left the bus.
Will and I both exhaled in relief once the door latched closed.
While I was furious, I didn’t let on to Will that I’d heard perfectly what Andy had murmured: that lucky for Will, getting some on the 4th seemed to be my thing.
Of course, he’d been referencing that he and I had first met the year before at the Fourth of July festival when he’d thought me an eager groupie. You’d think he wouldn’t want to bring up the occasion when he’d treated me so badly. The first time. But it was Andy, and I’d learned the hard way that he wasn’t exactly known for his maturity.
The only thing that kept me from going nuclear and following him off the bus was the knowledge that he wouldn’t dare say anything to anyone. He knew I could get him thrown off the tour and out of the band with a few strategic words to my father. But that didn’t mean I liked that he now suspected that, at the very least, Will and I had hooked up and were maybe even a couple, especially on the heels of my brief and very dead non-relationship with him.
“Close one,” Will said. “Because I was almost just kissing the crap out of you.”
I swallowed. “Same.”
The right side of his mouth hitched up. “How many guys have told you you’re an amazing kisser?”
I shrugged. Certainly not the one who just left the bus. But I wasn’t about to bring that up.
“Because you are, you know,” he said, his lids half-closing, making me turn my eyes away from him.
I hadn’t known, but I had no reason to think he was lying.
And then he sighed. “But we shouldn’t. There’s too much on the line for both of us, and you were right to set the boundaries for us. We’ll have to wait until one of us is officially off tour.”
“Sometimes I hate being right,” I said.
He smiled and tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “I’m totally sending Linda healing vibes so you can end your job here. Her foot will be the main focus of my evening prayers,” he said.
Mine too.
One Tree Hill
Once the s’mores were ready, we took them and a shopping bag filled with sodas and bottled waters out to the crowd of hungry musicians and crew members. I left my phone on the bus, needing even just a short time where I wouldn’t have to think about my parents and the drama that was coming for me. If my dad was desperate to get a hold of me immediately, he could text Kiki who was only a blanket away.
When we joined the others, snacks were practically snatched ou
t of our hands before we could even sit down. I laughed because I had expected no less—two weeks on a bus with very active and hungry boys had taught me that much.
The summer day had given way to a cool evening, and we all huddled together, laughing and wrestling to get decent blanket coverage that wasn’t over any pointy rocks. After much jostling and inevitable good-natured trash-talking, we settled in, chatting and eating, enjoying the afterglow of a great concert.
It came as no surprise when someone suggested we needed some music. After a little cajoling, Will and Max ran back to the bus and grabbed their acoustic guitars.
It took me back to when, at our house in the Hamptons before tour began, the two of them had played together that night on the beach. The spell they’d cast over all of us had been formidable, and I prepared myself to be swept away again.
So much had happened since then, especially between Will and me. Back then, I’d seen him as a friend and talented musician. Now, I saw him as that and so much more.
When they returned, they sat together on a blanket next to each other, and they must have discussed it because, with only a quick shared glance, they started strumming together. It only took a second to recognize one of Legion Thunder’s ballads, House of Love.
I couldn’t help but smile over at Will at their choice of song, even though at the same time, my heart was aching for him because he was clearly still suffering the loss of his grandfather.
Still, as we would have expected, Will and Max crushed the song, their voices twining together as they played it perfectly. As I glanced around, it wasn’t just me who got caught up in the amazing talent in front of us. I felt lucky and proud, of them and my dad who nurtured the seeds of talent to make it blossom.
I glanced over at Kiki, who winked at me and shook her head as if to say, “God, these guys are good, aren’t they?”
I nodded back at her because they were. They were so very, very good. I belatedly realized I should have been taking video to share with Sandy (which she would then share with the world) but it was too late now, and I didn’t want to ruin the moment by running back to the bus to grab my phone.
Also, as I watched the guys, this performance felt intimate, private—a show just for us. I suddenly felt protective of that, like I wanted to keep it for myself.
I closed my eyes and allowed the music to take me away from everything. I immersed myself in the melody, allowing it to permeate my brain and push away any thoughts that weren’t right here, right now.
Before I’d come on tour, back when I’d been so adamant about how much I hated musicians, I’d practically purged music out of my life, forcing myself to forget how much I really did love it. It was in my blood, after all.
But now, as I sat on that blanket absorbing the music like it was as necessary as oxygen, there was no denying that my love for it was back. Big time.
When they finished the song, they moved right into the next. It only took about three notes for me to recognize One Tree Hill. My eyes flew to Will’s only to see him looking at me, clearly waiting to be acknowledged. His mouth turned up slightly as he saw that I knew what he was doing, then he dipped his head, his eyes hidden from me as he looked down at the guitar.
He knew I loved that song. He wouldn’t have told Max or any of the others, so his playing it now was our private thing.
He was playing it just for me.
Surrounded by people—our band, our crew, and beyond that, a whole field filled with festival-goers, we were alone in that song.
Damn you, Will Davidson, I thought. How am I supposed to not fall in love with you?
I closed my eyes, which were quickly filling with emotional tears, ones that I did not want to have to explain. As I took a deep breath, I knew there was only one way to keep them at bay, and that was to concentrate on the music.
So that’s exactly what I did, quietly singing along as they crooned and played. Max took the background vocals, soon to be joined by the others.
I took harmony, twining my voice around Will’s, focusing on the notes, living and singing in the moment, feeling my heart expand as I let the music take me.
When the last note finished, I pressed my palm to my full heart and opened my eyes.
To see what felt like a thousand sets of eyes, all focused on me.
“What?” I said, feeling my entire body flush from the inside out.
“Uh, Messa?” Darren said. “How did we not know you could sing?”
“What?” I said again, though this time it was more from confusion and embarrassment. I glanced at Will, whose mouth was turned up into an amused grin. His eyes were wide as if to say, “Well? How did we not know?”
I shrugged and turned my eyes away from him, worried about giving too much away in a look. “I was just messing around.”
“If that was messing around,” Graeme said. “I want to hear you when you’re not.”
Thankfully, just then, a voice came over the loudspeakers, announcing that the fireworks would start in five minutes. I took the opportunity to jump up off the blanket and gather up some of the empty soda cans and garbage, walking away from the guys toward the big bins.
I wasn’t sure why it embarrassed me that they were praising my singing. Or why they’d seemed so surprised I could sing. What would they do if they knew I could play guitar, too?
Not something I wanted to think too hard on as I returned to our blankets a few minutes later. I was relieved that they’d moved on to other topics, the current one being the food they missed from home the most.
I took a spot next to Will (sure it was no accident that he’d made room for me) but didn’t look at him. He passed me a corner of his top blanket, and I took it from him with a nod of thanks, bundling myself underneath it.
“You could have told me,” he said quietly.
I shrugged. “What would I have said?”
His eyes were on me for a long time. Long enough that I had to fight the urge to fidget. I finally turned to look at him.
“I don’t know,” he finally said. “But I feel like I should have known.”
“What, that I can sing and play guitar?”
“Wait. You play guitar, too?” It was weird that he looked put out.
“That guitar you played in the Hamptons—when you and Max played on the beach? That was mine.”
“Really?”
“Yep,” I said. “I’m surprised Tony didn’t tell you. Either way, yeah, I do play. A little. Not like you, but...” I shrugged.
“I want to play and sing with you,” he said. “For real.”
“Forget it, boy band,” I said with a snort, looking up at the sky just as the fireworks began, glad for a distraction. I couldn’t tell him that I didn’t have the guts to really sing and play with him. I’d be like a toddler with a toy instrument next to him. “End of conversation.”
He didn’t respond with words, didn’t even look at me, but just then his fingers twined with mine under the blanket. He gave me a squeeze that said he understood. Because of course, he did. He seemed to understand everything about me.
And even though it had been a crap day with the craziest news ever—news that I was still very conflicted about—that it ended watching fireworks, under a blanket with Will secretly holding my hand, made it feel a tiny bit better.
That I knew he wanted to kiss me senseless and thought I was an amazing kisser, made it even better still. As I thought this and turned to catch his eye, I noticed with a start that he was already looking at me. He smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he squeezed my hand again.
I gave him a nod, but before the look became too intimate in a way that might give us away, I returned my gaze to the exploding sky.
The Emergence of Blurty McBitchypants
The fireworks wrapped and we all lumbered back to the bus to get on the road. We were headed to Denver, where we would pick up Billy at the airport aft
er his red-eye flight and then carry on to the venue for the next gig.
I figured I’d have news waiting for me on my phone. News I didn’t want to receive when I would have an audience. News I didn’t really want at all.
Reluctantly, I climbed into my bunk and pulled the accordion curtain across for a little privacy. I took a deep breath before I unlocked the phone.
There was a text from my father: Call me when you can.
What did that mean? There was no way to determine context from those five little words. Couldn’t he have given even a hint?
My heart raced as my brain whirled with the possibilities of how this was going to go down. Actually, what it boiled down to was that it would either be bad or very, very bad. Not good—there was no way it could be good.
Bad was the best I could hope for. But what degree of bad?
I opened a text to Sandy, putting my dad on the figurative back burner.
So? I sent her. She wouldn’t need more than that one word to know what I was asking. Though, really, why she even needed that one word before she filled me in was a mystery. Didn’t she know I was freaking out here? Couldn’t she have gotten ahead of me asking and given me something to go on? Anything?
Or was it so bad that she didn’t dare?
Glancing at the clock on the screen and doing the math, I cringed at the late hour in New York but reminded myself that they’d only just arrived and would still be on west coast time.
“Come on, Sandy,” I muttered at the phone, trying to send her telepathic messages. “You can’t be in bed already.” Especially if I wasn’t; my best friend was a true night owl, and if I (who was much more of a morning person) was still up, she had to be.
Though it wasn’t her fault, my patience was wearing thin, and I couldn’t help myself when I sent her a bunch of increasingly crabby where are you? texts.
Finally, she got back to me: Sorry! Not ignoring you promise! In a meeting with Linda while your dad is with your mom.
My mother. In the flesh. It was such a foreign concept. One that still felt so weird after I’d compartmentalized her as a dead parent, never to be dealt with again.
The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set Page 67