Wild Heart

by Jaci J

  Wide cautious brown eyes shoot up to mine when I pull her past the bar, headed for the back.

  “You’re crazy.”

  “Crazy about you.” I kiss her and push her towards the little stage. “I know you miss it.”

  She’s been back for almost four months now and I haven’t heard her sing anything other than a commercial jingle or along to some random song on the radio. Music beats in her wild heart. She needs it, just like I need her.

  She cocks her head and stares at me for a minute. “I missed you, Zac.”

  “And you’ve got me, but I don’t want you missin’ your music and takin’ off on me again. So get your ass up there and sing me a song. Get it out of your system.”

  Em shakes her head and looks over at Row who’s pointing wildly at the stage. “Get up there,” she yells at Em.

  The bar is packed, and when I say packed, I mean maybe a hundred people crammed inside and a line out the door. This venue is nothing special. Nothing like the stages she told me about, but it’s something.

  Handing over her guitar, I turn her towards the stage. “Get up there, babe.” Smacking her ass, I send her on her way.

  Do I love sharing her? No. Do I want to keep her here with me? Hell yeah. So I’ll share her for the night because I know she needs it.

  Now that I’ve got her back, I’m not letting her go.

  “This gonna be hard for you?” Row asks when I claim a stool at the bar.

  “Nope.”

  “Wow, that was convincing.”

  “Shut up, Row.”

  Emerson walks up onto the small wooden stage against the back wall and sits down on the old stool in the middle. A few people whistle at her, and my brother starts catcalling, which encourages the crowd to do the same. Em just laughs it off and shakes her head.

  “Y’all didn’t miss me or anything, did ya?” she says sweetly, tossing her guitar over her shoulder.

  There’s no mic and there’s no sound system. Just Em, her voice, and her guitar, and she couldn’t look any damn happier being up there in her element.

  Grabbing my beer from Row, I lean back and get comfortable, ready to watch my girl.

  Emerson plays, her wild heart on her sleeve. I can see the happiness and joy wash over her with each word she sings and each string she plays. This is what she was chasing. I’m not happy that chase took her away from me, but I’m happy she found her way back.

  Something hits me and I know for damn sure that this was how everything was supposed to happen. All that time apart wasn’t for nothin’.

  “She’s still just as good,” Justin acknowledges, sitting down next to me.

  “Yeah, she is.”

  “You two gonna be okay?”

  “Yeah.” We’re gonna be better than okay.

  “You and Row gonna be okay?” I ask him, turning the tables.

  Shrugging, he avoids eye contact. He brought a date here with him tonight, not that I blame him after dinner at our parent’s place last weekend. His date is some girl he met at a bar a few towns over, and she’s everything Row’s not, and that’s not a good thing.

  “You avoidin’?”

  “No,” he grunts. Grabbing his beer, he gets up and walks off in the direction of his date. Looking over my shoulder, I see Row watching my brother slip his around the blonde, and I can see how much she hates it. Those two have been dancing around each other for about as long as Emerson and I have.

  ~~~~~~

  “Beer me,” Emerson shouts as her ass takes up residence on my lap.

  “Are you done?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You’ve been at it about an hour,” I tell her, messing with a loose curl. “I’m ready for you to be done.” I’m done sharing her.

  It’s date night, as she called it. Emerson can call it whatever she wants as long as she’s with me.

  “You’re being jealous.”

  “And?”

  “And it’s kinda cute.”

  “There’s nothin’ cute about me, baby.”

  Laughing, she hops up. “I guess it’s hard to be cute when you’re over six foot, hairy, and two hundred pounds.”

  “Right. Now, give me a kiss before you go.”

  She leans down and I pull her in, needing those lips, and needing every asshole in here to see who she’s with.

  “You love me?”

  “Kinda,” she laughs before walking back to the stage.

  “That’s not funny.”

  “No, it’s hilarious.” Swear to God, she was put on this earth to give me shit. “Hey, Zac!” She turns and yells out, the crowd going quiet.

  “What, babe.”

  “Love you.”

  Shaking my head, I smile stupidly. I’m sure she was put on this earth to love me.

  ~~~~~~

  Em’s phone vibrates in my pocket an hour later. It hasn’t stopped since she handed it to me a few hours ago.

  Ignoring it isn’t working.

  Pulling it out of my pocket, I see the screen lit up with a few missed calls and about twenty texts.

  Something makes me read ’em, and the moment I do, I fucking regret it.

  It’s a hit, babe.

  Come back to L.A.

  This song is you. Your voice, your look, your words. Only you can sing it.

  We booked a ticket. Management wants you back here with a two-year album deal. We’re talking millions, and all the fame you can handle.

  There are about fifteen more, but I can’t read any more.

  I knew this shit was too good to be true. Knew she’d never stay. That wild heart of hers is gonna take her away from me again.

  The song ends, my fingers lingering on the strings.

  This feels damn good. I’ve missed my music, but I’ve missed Zac more.

  Up on the small stage in the back of the room, I look around for Zac in the crowd, needing his eyes, his smile, everything. These songs, this music, it’s all for him.

  Scanning the crowd, I find him, and what I find staring back at me, I don’t like. His lips are set in a hard line, and his face is serious. His eyes look full of betrayal as he stares down at my phone.

  My heartbeat takes off in my chest. A chill settles deep in my bones.

  No. No. No.

  My old management team has been hounding me, wanting me back, and I’ve kindly declined numerous times. I’ve politely ignored and I’ve all but blocked their numbers, but that pull is still there, that need for music.

  An ominous black cloud settles in over me. Darkness pulls me under and threatens to drown me. All the fun from tonight drain right out of me when I see the look on Zac’s face.

  Panic propels my feet.

  Walking off of the stage, I head right for the door Zac just exited, but stop feet away, torn. Worried of what I might find when I walk through it.

  Hoping for the best, I prepare myself for the worst. Pushing the swinging door open, I walk out into the small beer garden out back where I find Zac, his head hanging down in defeat. He looks tired, drained.

  My stomach is in knots, reminding me of the day I left ten years ago.

  Taking a few steps towards him, he doesn’t bother to lift his head to look at me.

  “I’m sorry,” I start to explain, but Zac stops me with his hand.

  “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t fucking believe you!” I feel shock at his words, like I took a punch straight to the gut. Clutching my stomach, I double over, feeling winded.

  “Zac, listen—”

  “You heard me, Emerson,” he says quietly. “Please don’t make me repeat it.”

  I feel like the world is spinning. I feel unsteady, unstable.

  “Zac.”

  Holding up a hand, he stops me. With his other, he grabs the whiskey in front of him and shoots it back in a single swallow. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you back in.” Setting the glass back down, he levels me with a look that rocks me. “But I love you, even
though I shouldn’t.”

  Nothing has hurt worse. Not the day I left. Not losing him. Not failing. Not watching him with another woman. Nothing hurts like hearing him say he shouldn’t love me.

  “I’m a fucking fool, Emerson. You’ve made a goddamn fool out of me, again.”

  “I’m not leaving!” I scream. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Maybe you’re not, maybe you are. I don’t fucking know. But I can’t keep doin’ this shit. You’ve got one foot here and one foot there.” Standing up, he looks down at me and shakes his head, disgusted. “Why do I keep trusting you?”

  “Because you love me and I love you.”

  “Not sure it’s enough this time, Em.”

  My entire world crumbles. I left L.A. for me, but I also left it for Zac. He didn’t ask me to do it, but I did it, and now he’s making me regret it.

  Emerson pushes past me and through the door, letting it swing closed behind her. A feeling I haven’t felt in a long goddamn time consumes me. I’m fucking scared. Scared of losing her all over again. Scared of letting her go. Scared of losing her love.

  Fuck.

  A paralyzing fear tears into my heart.

  What if this is it? What do I do?

  Minutes pass while I pray like a motherfucker that this is just some sick dream, a joke—a goddamn mistake.

  “What the fuck, Zac?” My brother’s voice rings loudly in my ears, but I still can’t hear anything other than the sound of my life falling apart around me. “Dude, why is Emerson crying with a bottle rum in her hand?”

  “She’s leaving again,” I say stiffly, the words sounding like a foreign language to my own ears. I stare down at my boots, the ones Emerson brought in for me this morning because it was raining.

  I feel like I’m going to be sick.

  The idea that this morning may have been the last time I wake up to her terrifies me beyond reason.

  “Zac?” My brother says louder, grabbing my shoulder.

  “What?”

  “What do you mean she’s leaving?”

  Shoving the phone at him, I shrug. “Read it.” It doesn’t take long for him to finish.

  “Jesus. What a fucking mess.”

  “What did she say? Read it, Justin. Read it out loud.”

  “She asked how much. But Zac, brother, that wasn’t a yes.”

  Pacing, I feel like I’m losing my mind. “But it wasn’t a no either.”

  “Do you really think she’d leave you again?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t think she’d do it the first fucking time. FUCK!”

  Justin points me towards a chair. “Sit down and have a drink. We’ll figure this shit out. In the meantime, I’ll take Em back to your place, and when you calm the hell down, you go home and you talk to her about this. If you yell and accuse her of shit you haven’t given her the chance to explain, you will lose her.”

  Nodding slowly, I agree. I don’t know what else to do.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  Justin starts to walk off, but stops. “She won’t leave.”

  I nod, hoping like hell he’s right. Not sure I’ll live through her leaving again.

  ~~~~~~

  Pulling down the driveway, I see the flames from damn near half a mile away. I sober up real goddamn quick.

  My heart beats wildly, trying to get out of my chest. Dread settles over me, my skin breaking out in a cold sweat.

  “Emerson, what’d you do?” I holler the minute my feet hit dirt. Rounding my truck, I watch the flames lick the low tree limbs around it, sparks shooting into the air towards the moon.

  Emerson doesn’t even look my way. She doesn’t lift her eyes from the flames or flinch.

  Walking closer, I can see the outline of her two guitars in the flames, little pieces of charred paper around her feet.

  Jesus Christ.

  Her eyes are distant and the tears are falling down her cheeks like rain as she watches something she loves with all her heart burn. Her blonde curls are a tangled mess and her legs are covered in soot.

  “What the fuck did you do?”

  “What I had to do.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s the reason all this shit happened,” she shouts loudly, throwing a hand out. “My music is the reason I left, the reason I lost you, and it’s the reason you don’t trust me now.”

  She made a bonfire out of her music. Set her words on fire and turned them to ash.

  I want to feel bad, but I don’t. I wait for the guilt to hit, but it never does. I stand there next to her, watching the shit burn.

  ~~~~~~

  Emerson crawls into bed a few hours later and for the first time in weeks, she’s not wearing one of my shirts, or wrapped up around me. For the first time in years, I feel fucking heartbroken all over again.

  “I need space.” I tell her when she curls into herself on the other side of the bed. I need time to think. Time to figure out what the fuck we’re gonna do.

  “Okay,” she says, her voice barely a whisper.

  The ball is in her court. It’s up to her now whether she stays or leaves.

  I feel myself going through the motions, but not actually living them. I feel numb and I feel guilty. I feel like running, but feel like I should stay.

  I’m a mess.

  “Zac loves you,” Row says with conviction.

  “But he doesn’t trust me.” And trust is everything. Love only goes so far. Love only gets you through so much.

  Love was never the issue for Zac and me. The issue was always something else. First it was my music, then it was Zac’s hurt, and now it’s trust. There are always hurdles, obstacles to climb.

  “You know Zac doesn’t mean the shit he says,” Row mutters, pursing her lips, but even Row doesn’t sound like she believes what she’s saying. She’s just saying it to make me feel better.

  “Row, you should have seen his face. This time...” the words get caught in my throat picturing the look on Zac’s face. The loss. The hurt. The broken trust. “This time it’s different.”

  Row gives me a sad smile. “It’ll be okay.”

  “Will it?”

  Zac is at work and I’m over here packing what little things I own up to take with me. He wants space and I can’t stay here with a man that doesn’t trust me. I can’t go and I can’t stay.

  “Are you gonna stay with your parents?” Row asks.

  I give her my best sad face, which isn’t too difficult.

  “No.”

  She looks confused for a split second before it dawns on her. “You’re stayin’ with me?”

  “Please?” I’m not above begging and pleading. I’ll even sleep on her floor. “Just for a few days. I can’t stay with my parents. My mom would never stop asking me questions, and I can’t stay at the Moore’s for the same reason, among others.”

  Row waves me off. “You know you’re more than welcome to crash with me. Stay as long as you want.”

  “Thank you.”

  My bags are packed. It looks like I never existed. Like I was never here.

  “Ready,” I tell her quietly, grabbing my bags.

  “Oh, I just had the best idea,” she squeals.

  “Yeah?” My mind’s a million miles away. I take it all in, scared this is really it, the last time I’ll be here.

  “Let’s do a girls’ weekend. Head to the city and chill out for a few days. Recoup.”

  It’s not the worst idea she’s ever head, but still. “I don’t know.”

  “I have frequent flyer miles saved up,” she adds, like that’ll change my mind. “Zac needs space and you need cheering up.”

  I don’t want to go, but I also don’t want to stay here with reminders of Zac all around me.

  “Let me think about.”

  Rolling her eyes, she hops off the bed and walks to the door. “I gotta head to work. Listen, I love you, but you need to pull your head out of your ass and come with me to the city. While you’re gone, Zac will realize how much he loves you
.”

  “We’ll see,” I say, picking at my chipped, sad looking nails.

  Kissing my cheek as she goes, she gives me a serious stare. “It’ll be okay, Emerson.”

  I nod. “Okay.”

  “See ya later,” she hollers as the door closes behind her.

  Sitting down on the bed, I look around the bedroom. The room Zac remodeled for me, in the house he poured himself into for me.

  The idea that this could be it kills me. We didn’t find our way back to each other for it all to end like this.

  This feeling, this desperate pit reminds of our first fight.

  “Fine. Don’t come back,” I scream at the already closing door, barely able to keep the tears from falling.

  The second I hear his boots hit the stairs, I let them go.

  I feel sick. Thoughts of a life without Zac in it bombard me, overwhelming me.

  I can’t live without him.

  Sinking to my knees, I cry harder than I ever remember crying before. I cry until I’m breathless and my eyes hurt. I cry until I’m numb.

  A desperate need twists at my heart as I sit here, alone. I should go after him. I should have stopped him. But I don’t get up. I just stare at the door.

  And all this shit over a trip to the lake. He can’t go, but didn’t want me to go if I had to ride up with Ben from English class. All of this because I had to fight him on it.

  Sitting down on my ass in the laundry room, I continue to stare at the backdoor, my phone clutched to my chest, wondering what the hell just happened.

  The feelings are pretty much the same, but this time around, I know I’ll live through the pain. I’ll be alive and breathing, but not actually living.

  Getting off the bed, I walk over to the dresser and open the top drawer and rummage around, looking for something to take with me. A T-shirt of his, or something.

  Grabbing a white shirt, I pull it out and something comes with it.

  A black box falls to the floor with a thud, and my heart follows suit. Staring down at the black velvet box, I blink slowly a few times, hoping I’m seeing it wrong.

  A ring box.

  I don’t bend down to look at it or put it away. I grab the tee and my bag and walk out, tears in my eyes.