by Melody Grace
Now he knows the truth.
I take a breath, waiting for the familiar rush of guilt and shame that always echoes from the past, but it doesn’t come.
Instead, I just feel relief, sweet and weightless.
He knows the truth now, and he didn’t turn away.
I feel a lump in my throat just remembering. Yesterday, I shut down and tried to keep it all inside, but Finn didn’t let me – he knew what I really needed, and refused to let me keep pushing him away, no matter how hard I tried.
We’re in this together now.
Could it be true? After everything that’s happened, is there a chance for us to start again? Not just a fling, or this physical connection, but something real. The love and security I’ve been craving ever since I lost him before. We’ve both bared our hearts now, admitted our darkest secrets and painful, bitter truths, so what do we do with this second chance?
Finn’s arms tighten around me. He mumbles something under his breath, and I lay back down beside him, snuggling closer into the warmth of his embrace. I listen to his breathing, and feel that happiness take flight in my chest.
We’ll figure out the answers together. All that matters is he’s home.
When I wake again, the sun is stronger through the windows, and I can smell breakfast wafting from downstairs. I tug on a robe, and go down. “I could get used to this,” I smile as I reach the kitchen – but the room is empty, just bacon warming under the grill and two plates waiting on the counter.
“But I thought he was a recluse these days.”
I hear Finn’s voice, talking on the phone on the back porch, so I pour myself a cup from the fresh pot of coffee and wander out.
He’s pacing back and forth, shirtless in his jeans, hair wet from the shower. “Uh huh, yeah, I know!” Whoever’s on the line, it’s good news. He’s animated, his whole face lit up as he talks. “You think he can fit me in?” he asks, then catches sight of me. He grins, and crosses the porch, sweeping me into his arms and kissing me until my head spins.
“Morning, beautiful.” He smiles, so handsome, I’m melting already. There’s a noise from the phone, and he laughs, lifting it to his ear again. “Not you, Kyle.”
Finn covers the handset this time. “There’s food waiting,” he winks. “I’ll be right in.”
“Take your time,” I smile, and head back up to take a shower. I luxuriate under the hot water, massaging my aching limbs. Man, it was hot last night, fucking up against the wall like that. Finn still knows all the right moves, and the filthy words that send me soaring higher each and every time. And we’ve barely even gotten started.
A massive grin spreads across my face, and doesn’t shift. I dry off and dress in cut-offs and a tank top, then skip downstairs again, hungry this time. Finn is still talking, so I finish making breakfast for the two of us, my famous soft scramble eggs, with plenty of cream and fresh chives. I set two places at the table in the kitchen nook, and look around. The Petersons aren’t due back for another month or two, but for the first time in a long while, I find myself wishing I had a place that was just my own. My choice of paint on the walls, my own furniture around.
Maybe it’s time to stop house sitting and finally take Delilah up on her offer to look for a rental of my own. Somewhere with privacy, and room for two.
I dig into my food, and soon Finn comes to join me. “Sorry about that,” he says, leaning to kiss me again. “Kyle doesn’t know the meaning of ‘short and sweet’.”
“Good news?” I ask, as he starts wolfing down his food.
“The best,” Finn grins. “Taylor Jennings has agreed to produce my next album.”
I recognize that name. “He’s that country rock guy, right?”
“He’s a legend,” Finn says reverently. “He’s produced some of my all time favorite records. I have all his albums, even the limited edition live vinyl I had to hunt down online. He doesn’t even take on new artists anymore, but Kyle must have sold an organ or something, because he wants to meet.”
“That’s great!” I exclaim, loving the passion in his eyes.
Finn is all smiles. “He’s a hermit these days, but if I get my ass to Nashville by the end of the week, he’ll find the studio time.”
I stop. “This week?”
Finn nods, crunching on some bacon. “It wouldn’t be long, three, four weeks maybe to write and lay down the demos, and then to LA mix the record. It’s kind of a relief,” he smiles. “I’ve been itching to pick up my guitar again. I have a ton of ideas for new songs.”
His words barely register. I’m still stuck on the part where he’ll be gone.
“You’re leaving,” I say slowly. Resignation sinks through me like a stone. “Again.”
Finn looks up, startled. “What? No, Eva, it’s not like that.”
“Then how is it?” I ask. My skin flushes hot, all those memories suddenly crashing over me. His absence, and the space he left beside me in my bed at night.
“It’s my career, it’s my real life.” Finn frowns. “I came back here to see you, but I can’t stay forever.”
“So what about us?” I ask, blinking back the tears. His face clears, and he reaches for me.
“You thought… Fuck, Eva, no.” Finn grips my hand tightly. “This, you and me, it’s just the beginning. I want you to come with me.”
“To Nashville?” I ask, stunned.
“To wherever.” Finn smiles at me, linking his fingers through mine. “I know I’ve bounced around these past years, but it doesn’t have to be that way. Most musicians have a base between tours, so you pick a place, and that’s where we’ll be. We could go to New York,” he suggests, excited. “You could go back to drama school if you wanted. Or LA. They have a ton of acting opportunities there—”
“Wait,” I cut him off, dizzy with the rush of ideas. “We don’t have to go anywhere. You can have your home base right here.” My mood lifts, and I smile, relieved. “You can go record, and do shows, and then come right back home to me.”
Finn’s smile fades. “I can’t do that, Eva.”
“Why not?”
He pushes his seat back slowly and gets up from the table. “This isn’t my home. It never has been.”
I watch, confused, as he clears our plates. What is he talking about? “Don’t you want to be with me?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“Of course I do!” Finn turns back to me. “You’re the reason I came back. All I want is for us to build a life together, the way we should have from the start!”
“So why can’t we do that here?” I ask again.
He clenches his jaw. “You don’t understand. This town holds nothing but bad memories for me. Every street I walk down, every corner I turn, I see my dad there, okay? I can’t stay here, not without all those shitty, painful reminders of everything that happened in the past!”
I stare at him in shock. “You never said anything.”
“I didn’t think I had to!” Finn looks at me plaintively. “Didn’t you realize? You’re the only thing that could have brought me back here. If it wasn’t for you, I would never have stepped foot across county lines, let alone stuck around all this time.”
I take a breath, trying to focus. “But this is my home, Finn. I can’t just leave!”
“Why not?” he shoots back. “You went once before. What’s holding you back? You can do anything, absolutely anything you want with your life, but you’re hiding out here.”
“I’m not hiding,” I say stubbornly, and he gives a short laugh.
“Then tell me what it is, because I sure as hell haven’t figured it out. Maybe things didn’t work out in New York, but that doesn’t mean you should quit on all your dreams. What comes next for you, Eva? Aside from us. Forget about me for a moment, and tell me what’s ahead for you.”
I shake my head, feeling defensive now. Since when was this a career interview? “I don’t know.”
“Tell me you have a plan. Tell me you have a dream, at least,” he begs me. “That
you’re not just going to stay here, working in that office—”
“It’s a good job,” I protest.
“It’s a waste of your talent, and everything you worked for.” Finn says fiercely, and I blink in surprise. There’s a look on his face now I don’t recognize, something determined and raw. “You know how I made it?” he demands.
“You told us,” I answer, halting. “The showcases, and Kyle, and—”
“I’m not talking about the bullshit answers in Rolling Stone,” Finn cuts me off. “I mean the thing driving me, what made me get up in the morning and fight another day to be better. A better musician, a better fucking man. It was you, Eva. It was always you. You had this ambition, and God I loved you for that. Even after everything, I wanted to make you proud of me.”
“And I am!”
“I learned that fight from you, Eva. So where’s your fight now?”
I shake my head. “It’s complicated,” I mutter. “I don’t have a gift like you do. Even at drama school, there were a hundred people better than me—”
“So you just walked away without even trying?” Finn interrupts. “I guess I was wrong about you not being a quitter.”
My anger flares. “It was kind of hard focusing on classwork and auditions when it feels like your heart just got ripped out of your chest!”
There’s silence. Finn looks like I just slapped him, but then he slowly shakes his head. “No.” His voice is calm. “You don’t get to blame me for this. I’m sorry I hurt you. Fuck, I’ve been sorry for every minute of every day, but we can’t go back to that forever.
You’re twenty-two, Eva. You’ve got your entire life ahead of you to do incredible things – for us to do them together - and instead you’re letting it all pass you by.”
He comes over and takes my hands, looking into my eyes with passion and tenderness. “This can be our fresh start, baby. Away from all these bad memories and the mistakes that dragged us down. You and me, for real this time.”
“But I can’t just leave,” I insist again, feeling a tight panic in my chest. “Lottie needs me, and Edith at the shelter—”
“Lottie is just fine!” Finn is fighting to keep his voice under control. “Edith has been running that place in her sleep for years. I get that you’re scared. I’m scared, too. But you can’t hide from your future forever here, unless.” He stops, and looks down at my hands in his. “Unless you don’t want that future with me.”
I gulp. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” Finn steps back, and gives me a ghost of a smile. “God, all this time I was so focused on winning you back, I didn’t even stop to think if you loved me too.”
“I do,” I swear. “Finn, I love you more than anything.”
“But not more than this town.”
“Why do I have to choose?” I exclaim, suddenly furious. Everything’s spinning out of control, and all I want is solid ground again, when I woke up in his arms and felt so safe and loved.
“I don’t know,” Finn says sadly. “But I can’t stay here. I have a million reasons why I have to leave.”
“And only one for you to stay,” I finish bitterly. “Now who’s the one who doesn’t want a future enough?”
“That’s not fair.” Finn looks so broken, I wish I could take it back.
“We’ll make new memories,” I try, taking his hands again. “We can make it better this time.”
He shakes his head. “No. Eva. I mean it. I could never be happy here. I could never forget the things he did. I’ve moved on with my life, but you don’t have any reason not to. What are you so scared of?” he demands. “Why won’t you just give your life another chance?”
We stand there a moment, not moving. I feel trapped, pulled in two different directions. My heart aches to be with him, but every time I try to picture that future he wants to build, I’m gripped with fear. Last time around, he broke my heart so thoroughly I thought I’d never pick up the pieces and feel it beat again. Now, I look ahead and I wonder: is that heartbreak waiting for me all over again?
Here, I have a safety net. When everything falls to pieces, I know how to pick myself up off the ground and carry on. But out there, in some new city where nobody knows my name…
I could fail all over again, and have nothing left in the end.
“So what happens now?” I ask, fearful.
He tilts my face up and kisses me in answer, slow and sweet, the kind of kiss I could lose myself in for hours. It warms me to my bones and makes me believe again that everything’s going to be okay. Then Finn steps back.
“I’m going to Nashville,” he says slowly. My heart stops. “You need time to think, and figure out what you want,” he continues. “Just say the word, and I’ll book you a ticket. I’ll buy the whole damn plane. But it has to be what you want.” His blue eyes search mine, like he’s looking for answers. “You have to decide what this is going to be.”
My heart twists. He’s leaving.
“I love you,” Finn says clearly. “I want a future for us. But I can’t do it here, living in the past.”
“Don’t go,” I whisper, and he clenches his jaw.
“I’m not leaving you, Eva. You’re the one who’s choosing to stay.”
He walks slowly down the hallway and takes his jacket from by the door. I’m frozen in place, watching him go all over again.
Finn pauses, turning back to me. “I’ll call you when I land,” he promises. “Remember, just say the word, and I’ll be there. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I whisper.
I could stop him. I could say anything at all. I could have the love I’ve been hoping for all these years. So why am I watching the door close behind him, and Finn McKay leave my life all over again?
Twenty-Two.
FINN.
Nashville is a music town through and through. From the bars on every corner, blasting country and rock ‘n’ roll until closing, to the open-mic nights at the local coffee shops, full of wide eyed hopefuls all looking to get their break, this city breathes, sweats, and bleeds music from every pore. I should be in heaven here, but all I can think about is a small harbor town hundreds of miles away, filled with dark memories and the only bright thing in the world.
Eva.
It’s been a week since I left, and every day is damn torture. I thought leaving her before was bad, but at least then I could tell myself I was doing the right thing. Now I don’t even have those noble thoughts to keep me warm at night. She’s not picking up when I call, or returning my rambling voicemail messages. I swore to myself I’d give her time to make this decision alone. Now I wonder if that was the biggest mistake of all. With every passing hour, I wonder what she’s doing there, if she’s missing me at all. And if she’ll ever find the strength to break free from her past and pick a new future with me.
Did I push her too far, too fast?
Did I wreck our second chance at love before it had even had a chance to begin?
There’s a sharp whistle from behind me. I turn, and find our sound guy, Eddie, waving me back inside. “Break’s over,” he calls, grinning. “What do you think this place is, a country club?”
“More like boot camp,” I snort, heading back over to the studio. It’s a low, boxy structure built at the back of Jennings’ sprawling farm, but in contrast to the rickety main houses this place is the ultimate in audio heaven. No hi-tech machines or auto tunes in sight, just the best old school equipment to make a melody sing – and the man himself at the control panel, cracking the damn whip from dawn until dusk.
“Don’t tell me you’re slacking,” Jennings grumbles as I step back into the studio and grab my guitar. Even in the heat, he’s wearing a shirt and cowboy boots, his long grey hair falling around a weathered, world-weary face. “In my day, we didn’t break for days. I’d piss right there in a bucket in the corner so we wouldn’t interrupt the take.”
Eddie rolls his eyes behind Jennings’ back. The old guy is full of stories like this
, about the glory days when real men fought and fucked and made music – usually all on the same epic night. “Just pacing myself,” I answer easily. “You want to pick up that last take again?”
“If you can get it right this time,” Jennings snorts, so I go back into the sound booth and take a seat, strumming a few chords on my guitar to get back into the right frame of mind.
Jennings’ voice comes through the speaker. “Whenever you’re ready. And try not to fuck it up this time.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, coach.”
Eddie gives me a thumbs-up, then counts in the track. We laid the instrumental earlier this morning, and it went great. I’ve had this melody rattling around in my mind for weeks, something haunting and simple, with lyrics to match. But every time I try to get the vocals on tape, there’s something missing, and I can’t for the life of me figure out what.
‘You were my sweet salvation; you were my ruin.’
“Cut!” Jennings bellows through the speaker. “Do it again!”
I take a breath, and wait for the cue. This time, I barely make it through the first verse before Jennings yells cut again.
I lower my guitar, angry this time. All morning, I’ve sung the same damn verses over and over, and all morning, Jennings has made us rip up the take and start from scratch.
“What was wrong this time?” I demand, when Jennings opens the door to the booth.
Eddie shrugs. “Don’t look at me, man. I thought it sounded great.”
“’Great’ is a fucking pop song on top forty radio!” Jennings bellows, slamming his headphones down. “’Great’ is Madison Square Gardens on a Friday night.”
“And?” I ask, confused. “Isn’t that what we want?”
“No,” Jennings growls. “What we do here has to be better than that! This isn’t just a song you’re singing; this has to be a promise, a plea, a fucking death bed confession. We need to hear you slit your wrists and bleed into that microphone, leave every last piece of your goddam soul out on the floor for everyone to see. You understand me? That’s real greatness, right there, the kind of greatness that lasts a fucking lifetime, and you, son, are nowhere near close. So tell me again, what the fuck does any of this even mean to you?”