No Place Like You

by Emma Douglas

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. Neither of you is fine.” Faith said then clamped her lips together as though she wasn’t supposed to say that last part.

  Leah. He’d told himself he wouldn’t ask. But he had to know. “Is she okay?”

  Faith scowled. “No. She looks the same as you. You should come home. Fix it.”

  “I need this album.”

  “So make it with Leah,” Faith said. “Is Davis really so much better? Do you like what he’s doing more? Because you don’t look like you do.”

  He could always rely on Faith to see right through him. But it didn’t really matter how he felt, did it? Not after what Billy had done. “I need his rep.”

  She shook her head fiercely, hair flying around her face. “That’s crap. You need to be happy. The music won’t make you happy if you screw up the rest of your life. You have money. You have resources of your own. You can make this album work. You don’t need Davis Lewis or anybody else. Except Leah. You were so happy when you were here with her, Zach. That means something.”

  It did. And he wanted to feel that way again. But he’d made a choice. “I can come back when I’m done.”

  Faith opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then sighed. “If you wait that long she won’t be here.”

  “Excuse me?” What the hell did that mean?

  “Leah’s leaving after CloudFest.”

  Leaving? Leah was leaving Lansing? That felt like a fist to the gut. Stole his breath. Leah gone? God. Had part of him been banking on going back to her? “Going where?”

  “I’m not telling you that,” Faith said.

  “But why would she go?”

  “Because there’s nothing keeping her here.”

  Not with him gone, is that what she meant? His gut clenched again, as though a second blow had landed. Leah gone. Out of his reach. Because of him she was blowing up her life. Shit. Maybe Billy was right. Maybe he was just like Grey. He didn’t want to be. Grey had always put music first, not people. Zach had never had the guts to ask him if he’d thought it was worth it. But somehow he knew it wouldn’t be for him. But he didn’t know if he could be different.

  But, he realized, he wanted to try. There had to be a way. To do both. To be great at music and at life. To do it with Leah. And suddenly, he had an idea how.

  He straightened. “You know, I read the festival agreement, after Billy pulled his stunt.” It hadn’t done any good at the time. It had only said what Faith had already confirmed. Though now …

  Faith leaned forward. “And?”

  “Do you have it there?” He was pretty sure he’d deleted the e-mail that Faith had sent him with the documents. Which wasn’t nearly as satisfying as tearing it into pieces. It felt like weeks ago.

  “Yes. Give me a minute.” Faith got up and disappeared from view. But not for long. She sat back down and waved a document at him.

  “Can you remind me what exactly it says about Blacklight members’ rights? And about the secret slot?” His memory of those couple of days was hazy. Raw fury apparently stopped him remembering.

  Faith shrugged, flipped a few pages, and then looked down, reading intently for thirty seconds or so. “It says the Blacklight guys have a right to any slot they want. It doesn’t actually talk about the secret slot directly. Grey started that as a one-off thing and it became a tradition. I don’t think it ever got added into the trust agreement. Why?”

  “And Harper Inc. controls the scheduling—the guys don’t have any veto power on that?”

  “No. We’re currently appointed by the trust to do the administration. I guess the three of them could vote to change that but they can’t pull any extra strings as things stand.”

  He didn’t think that was likely to happen. He’d had an e-mail from Danny telling him that he thought Billy was being a world-class shit. And Shane would probably side with Danny over Billy if push ever came to shove.

  Faith was looking curious now. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Because I was wondering if there was any way you could squeeze in another secret gig. I mean, Billy gets the traditional spot for the secret gig, before the closing act, fine. But there’s nothing to stop you giving me a surprise slot as well, is there?” Two secret acts at CloudFest would generate some buzz for him. He could get the CloudFest social media machine behind him. Get them to drop a few hints that there might be some extra surprises this year. After that, if he was good enough on the day, the buzz might take care of itself. And if it didn’t, well, screw Jay, screw the record companies. He wanted Leah. He’d figure the rest out.

  Faith’s eyes widened. “No-o-o,” she said. Then she began to smile. “No, there isn’t.” She paused for a moment, frowning as though she was trying to figure something out in her head. “I think I could make it work. If you came back, that is.” Then her head tilted. “Is your stuff with Davis ready, though?

  He didn’t care about Davis. Not anymore. Maybe he never had. He’d made a bad choice. But he was going to fix it. “No, but the stuff I did with Leah is. I can keep the arrangements simple, that’s how they’re built. Come home. Fix things.”

  Faith’s squee of approval almost deafened him. But it also gave him a shred of hope that his plan wasn’t crazy. It sounded easy on the face of it. Come home, perform. Launch his music the way he wanted it to be. Win back his girl. It sounded easy, but it would be complicated. Leah might not forgive him. But as he thought about it, he suddenly knew that complicated with Leah was better than simple alone.

  * * *

  “You feel like this every year,” Leah muttered to herself as she lay in the middle of her living room and watched the ceiling fan spinning lazily above her. She was so tired she’d gone beyond aching body parts into a phase where her body didn’t feel entirely real any more. She’d thrown herself into CloudFest preparation with a vengeance—needing the distraction—and whenever she’d found a spare minute from that, she’d been working on her L.A. plans and cleaning out her house. Every part of her ached. And in about twenty minutes she needed to pull herself up off the floor, and put on a pretty dress, and go and make nice at Faith’s CloudFest Eve party like she wasn’t exhausted and brokenhearted.

  She needed a shower, about two gallons of coffee, and then a margarita or three. At least at the party, she could hang with Ivy and Mina and Will and her other friends. Who all knew how she was feeling and wouldn’t mind if she wasn’t totally the life of the party.

  But until she had to move, she was going to lie here, watch the ceiling fan, and try not to think. It was a skill she’d been working hard to perfect since Zach had left. Sometimes it even worked. Sometimes, for a moment, she forgot exactly how many days and hours and minutes it was since he’d left her behind. Sometimes, for a moment, her hands didn’t itch to pick up the phone and call him or beg Faith to tell her where exactly he was so she could run to the nearest airport and buy a ticket and go there.

  And each of those moments that she managed not to think about that gave her a little bit of hope that she could make it to the next moment. That there would be more moments. Longer moments. That she wouldn’t always feel this crappy.

  “See the ceiling fan. Be the ceiling fan.” She wasn’t exactly sure if watching the spinning blade was soothing or making her vaguely queasy. She closed her eyes. Maybe she could nap instead.

  A power nap. That was a thing that people did. Normal people. Not the kind of people who’d let themselves fall for Zach Harper all over again. Maybe if she napped, she could be normal too.

  But just as she was wrestling with the idea that, if she was going to nap, she needed to tell her phone to set an alarm, someone knocked on her front door.

  Her eyes flew open. “Dammit.” She kept her voice down. Maybe whoever it was wouldn’t hear her. Maybe they’d go away. The knock came again.

  Whoever it was, it had better be good. She got up with an effort and walked to the door, trying to summon a polite expression. When she opened the door and
saw Zach standing there, her attempt at a smile vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by sheer blinding panic.

  She shut the door instinctively, trying to think through the sudden deafening roar of blood in her ears. Zach was here. Why the hell was Zach here?

  “Leah?” Zach called through the door.

  She opened it again. “What do you want?” She tried to sound angry rather than shocked. She wasn’t sure how well she was pulling it off when all she could do was stare at him, taking in every last detail. His clothes were rumpled and he needed a shave. The dark circles under his eyes matched her own. And she wanted to throw her arms around him and never let him go.

  She stayed where she was. She couldn’t wreck herself a third time.

  “You’re mad,” he said.

  “No shit.”

  “I should have brought doughnuts.”

  He was trying to charm her. She wasn’t going to let him. “There are not enough doughnuts in the world, Zachary.”

  “I know, I’m sorry.” He spread his hands. “You may have noticed I tend to fall back on charm and baked goods when I’m nervous.”

  “I find myself immune to your charms. And we already covered the baked goods.” She stopped. Played back his sentence in her head. “Wait. Why are you nervous?”

  “Because I’m worried that, like doughnuts, there might not be enough groveling in the world to make you forgive me.”

  She felt her mouth drop open. Made herself close it. Tried to remember how to talk while her brain repeated “forgive me, forgive me, forgive me” on a loop. “Maybe you should be worried.”

  He stepped a little closer. Dammit. He might look rumpled and travel-stained but he smelled far too good.

  “Only maybe?” he said softly.

  She closed her eyes. She couldn’t be dumb again. She had to be strong. Had to send him away. “What do you want, Zach?”

  “I wanted to tell you I’m back.”

  “So I see. But based on our last conversation I’m forced to conclude that you being back isn’t any of my business.”

  “You know what they say about jumping to conclusions.” He offered her a tentative smile.

  “You’re trying to be charming again.”

  “Sorry.”

  He didn’t look sorry.

  “Zach, I’m busy. Welcome home and all that but I have somewhere I need to be.” His sister’s party. Where he was probably headed, she realized with sudden horror. Oh God. She could not go if he was going to be there. She wouldn’t be able to pretend everything was sunshine and roses with Zach standing in the same room reminding her it really, really wasn’t.

  “Wait,” Zach said. “I haven’t said what I came to say.”

  “If you mention doughnuts again, I’m going to have to hurt you.”

  He shook his head. “No doughnuts. No pastry of any kind. Just a confession.”

  A confession? She didn’t know what to say so she just made a little “go on” gesture.

  “I’m a world-class idiot.”

  “I’m aware.” She was also aware of her fingers clenching by her side, of the tremble in her skin, of the foolish foolish hope starting to grow in her chest.

  “I treated you like crap. I ran away.”

  “Still not news, Zach.”

  “Well, maybe this part will be. I know I can say ‘sorry.’ I am saying ‘sorry.’ Sorry,” he added. “But I need you to know why I came back.”

  “Why?” Oh, that stupid, stupid heart of hers. It wanted to step closer to him. Grab him. Hold onto him so he couldn’t leave again. She made herself stay right where she was. Was she never going to learn?

  “Because I was miserable without you. Because I need you. Because I don’t give a crap about Davis Lewis and his reputation. I want you. I want to make music with you and love with you and…” He trailed off. “I just want you.”

  She was trying to think. This seemed so surreal. Maybe she was napping after all? She dug her fingernails into her palm. Felt the sting of it. So, apparently she was awake. And Zach was standing there. Telling her he—

  “Say something,” Zach said.

  “You left me,” she said. “Twice.”

  “I came back,” he said. “Granted the first time took me far too long, but I wasn’t so stupid this time.”

  “You’ve been gone nearly two weeks.” Two weeks that had felt like several centuries.

  “That’s better than years,” he said with another half-smile. “If it helps, I hated every second of it.”

  “So did I,” she blurted, then clapped a hand over her mouth.

  Zach laughed. Then reached out and pulled her fingers gently away. “Say that again.”

  “I’m not sure I want to.”

  “Say it again and I promise you, you won’t regret it.”

  She stared up at him. She wanted to say it. Wanted to hear him saying it again too. But if she just said it, nothing would change. “I’m leaving Lansing,” she said. “I want to produce.”

  “I know. And hey, to get you started I know this guy who has this half-finished album. They say it’s pretty good. Probably due to the producer he was working with.”

  “I mean it, Zach. I want to get away from Lansing for a while.”

  “That’s good,” he said. “Because I kind of have this job where I need to travel.”

  “I don’t want to follow you around. I’m done waiting for Zach Harper.”

  “Maybe I want to follow you around.”

  He hadn’t let go of her hand, she realized. And her fingers were tangling with his, the familiar feel of his hand so good it made her want to cry. “You need to be in the spotlight.”

  “Not all the time. Sometimes I just need you. I love you, Leah Santelli. Wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.” He straightened. “So we can leave. And we can come back.” He hitched a shoulder. “I made Shane an offer to buy his house. He accepted.”

  “You bought a house here? You bought Shane’s house?” He wanted a house on Lansing? He wanted her? Disbelief was battling with sheer delighted joy.

  “This is home,” he said. “I want somewhere to come back to.” His fingers tightened and he pulled her toward him. “I want us to have somewhere to come back to. So what do you say? Make a life with me, Leah. Make music and memories and mistakes with me. Figure it out with me. Don’t make me go away again.”

  Maybe she was dreaming. If she was, she didn’t want to wake up. And maybe, when it came to Zach, there was no way she would ever wake up. So maybe there was no other choice to make. Only him.

  She tightened her grip on his hand. “I have three conditions.”

  The smile that spread across his face was all she needed to see. “Yes?” he said.

  “No more running. We figure things out together.”

  “I can live with that,” he said, mouth quirking. “Next.”

  “Be my date to Faith’s party tonight.”

  “Try to stop me.”

  She grinned at him then, so happy she wasn’t sure why she hadn’t exploded.

  “And the third?” Zach asked.

  “Kiss me.”

  “Always,” he said and then he did.

  epilogue

  Two weeks later …

  Zach was starting to think he knew the drive between the Harper house and Shane’s—no, his house—by heart. He’d been driving or walking it several times a day since he’d bought the place. Whenever he could steal a few hours from the studio or the rapidly escalating round of festivities that were leading up to Faith and Caleb’s wedding, he headed there. Walked around. Still getting used to the idea. Both the house and the fact that Leah would be living there with him when they were on Lansing. Which would be for the next few months at least while they finished his album.

  There was plenty of buzz about it after the gig at CloudFest. More buzz about them than about Erroneous. And maybe it made him a petty motherfucker, but part of him was happy about that. But after the album was done, well, they’d play thi
ngs by ear. He wanted to tour. She wanted to do some more producing. That was a portable profession. They could make it work.

  He looked over to Leah, who was slouching back in her seat, her feet up on the dashboard and a goofy, daydreaming expression on her face. “Happy?” he asked.

  She smiled. “How many times a day are you going to ask me that?”

  “Quite a few. All of the times.” Zach said, still not quite believing she was his. He’d almost fucked this up. He wasn’t going to let himself be so stupid again.

  Her cheeks turned pink but her smile turned a little smug. “Good. I might ask a few times myself.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Zach said. They’d reached the guesthouse and he turned the car off. “Still want to go down to the beach?”

  “Absolutely,” Leah said. “Summer won’t last forever. And I’m feeling kind of sticky.”

  Zach grinned at her.

  They could have swum at the pool at Shane’s place, but they’d gotten sidetracked when they’d been checking out one of the guest bedrooms. Shane believed in huge beds apparently. Zach approved. Leah had insisted they bring the sheets back to the guesthouse. He’d buy Shane a new set and include it in the stuff they were shipping back to him. Which wasn’t as much as Zach had expected. Shane had said they could have most of the stuff in the house. So now he had to decide if there was anything he wanted to keep in the house or whether he wanted a clean slate. Maybe he could keep that bed. For sentimental reasons.

  “Five minutes to grab your suit,” Zach said. “Last one into the water has to—” He broke off as Leah pulled her T-shirt up, revealing that she was already wearing a bikini top. “When did you put that on?”

  “I had it in my bag. And my panties were toast. You owe me new lingerie, Harper.”

  “That is one thing I’m more than happy to provide. Right. So new plan. I’ll go change and you can grab beer. And whatever else you want.”

  “Deal,” Leah said. And, true to her word, she was waiting with a six-pack and a cooler when he came back out of the house. He took the beer from her and extended his free hand, tangling his fingers with hers when she took it.

  “Are you going to miss this?” he asked as they walked through the garden toward the beach path.