by Cat Schield
“I’m not waiting for anything. It’s just that I barely have enough time to write, much less create demos.” But with Ivy scheduled to record her album at Nate’s Ugly Trout studios in Las Vegas, perhaps she would have time to do something for herself for a change.
“Speaking of Nate, did you know he was going in for throat surgery tomorrow?”
“No.” Mia’s heart gave a worried thump. “I knew he was struggling while we were on tour, and that he pushed through because he didn’t want to cancel any shows, but we haven’t spoken much since the tour ended.”
Nate had made it perfectly clear that he wanted to continue the relationship. As intoxicating as their affair had been, Mia knew it was only a matter of time until their paths diverged. He wanted her to choose him over Ivy, but she just couldn’t leave her sister. Would the time ever be right? It was the question Nate had posed that last morning in Sydney. Mia had no clear answer.
“I’m worried about him. He’s using a car service to get to and from the doctor’s office tomorrow, and he doesn’t have anyone staying with him at the hotel to help him after the procedure. I was wondering, since you are in LA, if you could check on him.”
“Of course.” It was something a friend would do and they’d parted on reasonably good terms. Why hadn’t he said anything to her when they’d met earlier?
Mia ran through what she would say to her sister tomorrow about taking care of Nate, and decided she would simply tell her that she needed some time off. It wasn’t as if Mia got to take vacations like a regular person. All the time she spent around Ivy was work, even when she was technically off. They might head to the Caribbean or the beaches of Europe together for a little R & R, but it wasn’t as though Mia got to party all night, drink too much and sleep in.
“Do you know what clinic he’s going to?” Mia asked. “And what time the surgery is?”
“No. I’m assuming that he’s using Dr. Hanson. He’s the best vocal cord surgeon in LA. Nate mentioned the appointment is first thing in the morning.”
“How about where he’s staying?”
“He usually gets a suite at the Four Seasons Beverly Hills when he’s in LA. It’s close to West Coast Records’ offices.”
“I know it well. Ivy stayed there while renovations were being done on her house.”
“One more thing. Don’t tell Nate you’re coming. You know how he hates accepting help.”
“I’ve got it covered. He’ll never know what hit him.”
“You’re a doll,” Melody said. “I’ve been sick, thinking about him all alone after the surgery.”
“Don’t worry,” Mia said. “I’ll take excellent care of him.”
“I know you will. And he might never admit it, but I think he’ll be really glad to have you there.”
Three
The morning of his surgery Nate’s thoughts were running on a hamster wheel, getting him nowhere. Not being able to talk for several weeks was going to make communicating with his clients a challenge. Although he’d asked for Mia’s help from her father and sister, he hadn’t approached her about acting as his voice for the next three to four weeks.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t hire an assistant with ASL experience, although it might be tricky finding one on such short notice. He also wasn’t worried that the studio was booked solid and people were counting on him. He dreaded getting turned down by Mia again.
Pushing all that to the side, Nate left his suite and headed to the elevator. When the car arrived at his floor, a young couple with a baby stroller were already inside. Nate stepped to the side of the elevator and gazed from the infant to the happy parents. Almost against his will, his thoughts turned to Mia.
During those days with her on tour, for the first time ever, he’d contemplated what it would take to balance life on the road with a family. With the amount of touring Free Fall had done for the first few years when they were making a name for themselves, Nate hadn’t even considered settling down.
Promoting an album meant grueling months on the road. It wasn’t the sort of thing where you dragged a wife and kids along. Well, some people did. But unless it was the right sort of relationship, traveling from one end of the country to another put a lot of strain on a couple.
And then he’d met Mia. She was used to long months of touring and being away from home. As Ivy’s personal assistant, she was on the go constantly. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure if she had a home of her own. He’d easily pictured them working together in the studio and then going out on tour. If they had a baby, the whole family would travel. It had been an appealing fantasy.
The elevator opened on the lobby and the couple with the stroller exited. Nate’s mood, already battered by his anxiety about the surgery, took another hit. Damn, he was tired of being alone.
Suddenly every muscle in his body ached. He hadn’t felt a sweeping depression like this in ten years. Back then he’d fought off the darkness with pills, booze and sex. None of it had helped, but for a while he’d been able to forget.
Nate stepped into the lobby, calling himself all kinds of coward and idiot for trying to handle things on his own. He was always the first one to lend a hand if someone needed it. Why did he have such an awful time accepting help?
Shame. Admitting that he wasn’t strong enough to protect his mother when he was a kid or conquer an addiction to drugs when he was in his early twenties had led to both situations becoming worse. If he’d reached out for help, maybe his mom wouldn’t have been nearly beaten to death by his father and he wouldn’t have ended up burning bridges in the music business.
Nate headed across the hotel lobby and outside to where a car should be waiting to take him to the doctor’s office. He’d turned down Trent’s and Melody’s offers to help, and he wasn’t feeling great about his decision. But he hated being a bother. Trent was out of town with Savannah and Dylan. Melody was in Las Vegas. And while his mother would have happily flown in from Dallas to baby him for a few days, Nate didn’t want to put her out. The surgery was delicate, but not overly invasive, and he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself.
And then the most amazing thing happened. A familiar brunette got up from a chair near the front door and started walking in his direction. Her appearance was so unexpected that he rubbed his eyes to determine if he was hallucinating. If so, she was the most beautiful, wonderful, perfect figment of his imagination he’d ever experienced.
“Mia?”
“At last,” she said, gliding into step beside him. “I was worried that I’d missed you. How are you doing?” She peered up at him as the lobby doors opened with a whoosh and fresh air poured over them. “Are you nervous?”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to take care of you.” She gave him a stern look. “Why didn’t you tell me you were having surgery?”
His first impulse was to tell her he didn’t think it would matter to her. But that was a crappy response. He also hadn’t thought she’d be available since her sister kept her so busy.
Instead he asked, “How did you know?”
“Melody told me. She said you didn’t have anyone to help you after the surgery and she was worried.” The look Mia shot him was pure accusation. “And so was I.”
“I’ll be perfectly fine.”
“Ridiculous. A doctor won’t release anyone going under anesthesia unless they’re being picked up and watched over by a responsible adult. So, I’m going to sit in the waiting room while you have your surgery. And then I’m going to bring you back here. Tuck you in. And keep watch over you.”
All that sounded like pure heaven. Having her fuss over him for the next few hours would speed his recovery along.
“You don’t need to wait,” he told her as they settled into the back of the town car. “The procedure could take up to six hours.”
“I’m staying.” Her tone was firm. “I brought stuff to read.”
“Thank you.” Such simple words didn’t convey his full emotions. He was so damned glad to have her with him. But she smiled as if she understood.
Nate didn’t feel much like talking on the way to the clinic, so they sat in companionable silence. The surgery was the most terrifying thing he’d ever faced and that included the night his sixteen-year-old self had gone up against his drunk, knife-wielding father.
Singing was more than just Nate’s livelihood. It was how he’d comforted himself as a kid in an abusive home and the way he communicated who he was to the world.
No matter how successful he became as a producer and songwriter, he’d give up every penny he had to be able to perform on stage. This was something he hadn’t realized until he was faced with the grim prospect of throat surgery.
When the nurse came to take him into the back, Mia gave him a reassuring smile. It was her face that filled his thoughts as he was wheeled to the operating room and injected with something to put him to sleep.
And when he woke what seemed like seconds later—in post-op, he guessed, based on the dim lighting and hushed silence—her name was the first thought that popped into his head. He floated in post-surgery haze, happy that she was waiting to take him back to his hotel As the residual anesthesia wore off, Nate lifted fingers to his throat, but the discomfort was all on the inside. Had the surgery been successful? He wouldn’t know for several weeks, maybe months.
A nurse came to check on him and asked yes-or-no questions he could answer by nodding or shaking his head. She reiterated what the doctor and all the nurses before her had drilled into him: no talking of any kind for two to three weeks and minimal use of his voice after that. He’d start working with a vocal coach in a month, which would be a new experience. In all the years he’d performed, Nate had never had any formal training. He just got up on stage and let ’er rip.
They wanted him back in three days for a checkup, after which he could return to Las Vegas to continue healing. The nurse recommended Throat Coat tea with honey and gave him a prescription for pain meds.
“Your throat will probably grow more uncomfortable as the day goes on. Drink lots of fluids and remember, no talking.”
Nate nodded. He might suck at taking advice on most things, but this he intended to follow to the letter. He couldn’t imagine losing the ability to sing and perform. While he had songwriting and producing to fall back on, the energy that came at him from a packed stadium was a high he craved.
From post-op they sent him back into the waiting room, where Mia was still waiting, and gave him a glass of water. It slid down his throat without too much irritation and he grew hopeful.
“Are you okay?” Mia asked, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Let me know when you’re ready to head to the car.”
He nodded.
The trip back to the hotel was a blur. When they arrived at his suite, Nate fumbled out his key card and tried to focus on getting it into the slot. He wanted to curse, but knew better than to speak. And then, Mia plucked the key from him and within seconds the door swung open. He took a step forward and his head picked that second to swim. With his reflexes not quite back to normal, he swayed and made a grab for the doorframe just in time to prevent himself from pitching forward.
Her arm went around his waist to steady him. “I’ve got you,” she said, but she wasn’t as calm and collected as she sounded. Her brown eyes looked huge in her pale face.
“I’m okay, really.”
She looked so appalled that he almost laughed, but he knew better than to make a sound.
“You okay?”
She gave a husky laugh. “I’ll be better once you’re in bed and resting.”
“I knew you’d been dying to get me back into bed.” His dry smile didn’t help ease the tense line between her brows. And then, becoming more serious, he signed, “It means a lot that you’re here.”
He wanted to follow it up by asking how long she could stay, but again sensed the answer wouldn’t make him happy. For now, he’d enjoy her company and take what time with her he could get.
“I’m sorry things between us didn’t work out...” She was prevented from saying more by his fingertips against her lips.
He didn’t want to talk about the failure of their relationship or argue about Mia’s inability to escape her sister’s demands. His arms ached to hold her. At the moment he didn’t have energy to do more than sit on the couch with her snuggled against him, though.
“Come.” He patted the cushion beside him.
“You should go to bed.”
“I’m not tired.”
For an instant he worried she might call him on that, but then she joined him on the couch.
“At least lie down.”
He obliged by shifting until he lay on his back, his head in her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair. The soothing caress made his whole body ache. Damn, but he’d missed her. How many times in the last month had he relived those precious few hours they’d spent together that last night in Sydney? Over and over the memories tumbled through his mind as he recalled every touch and kiss. The ravenous hunger with which they’d come together that first time. The ache in his chest as the sun lifted above the horizon. The glorious, joyful goddess he’d held in his arms, who faded before his eyes as the morning grew brighter.
He’d sworn then that he would have her. All of her. He intended to do whatever it took to make her happy. Only she would have none of it. None of him. She didn’t understand what it meant to be selfish. To demand happiness. Her family had molded her into someone who put her needs after everyone else’s.
He closed his eyes and enjoyed the silence. With Mia he’d learned to appreciate being quiet, for it allowed him to be fully in the moment. Almost immediately, however, Nate found himself drifting off, and fought to stay awake. He’d learned during those long weeks on tour to savor every minute with Mia, because all too often their secret rendezvous were interrupted. But with what he’d gone through earlier today, his body craved sleep.
The next time he woke the suite was dim. His head remained cushioned on Mia’s lap. He rubbed his face and sat up.
“What time is it?” he signed.
“Six. How are you feeling?”
“Sore.”
“I’ll get you some water.” She got to her feet and headed for the wet bar consisting of a mini-fridge behind a white panel door. When she returned and handed him a chilled bottle, she asked, “Do you want to take something?”
He shook his head. Although the pain in his throat required medication to take the edge off, he didn’t like the way the drugs made him feel. Early in his career he’d gotten caught up in the highs and lows of the music scene and had partied too hard. He’d relied on booze and pills to jack him up and mellow him out. And then there had always been girls. They were relentless. He’d signed boobs and butts. He’d taken two to bed and woken up with a third. And all this had happened before Free Fall had their first hit.
Then one morning, Nate had woken up with a thick head and a sick feeling in his gut that had nothing to do with how much he’d consumed the night before. There was a fist-size dent in his hotel room wall and a descriptive expletive written in lipstick on his bathroom mirror. He remembered being angry, but not why. It had been perfectly clear, however, that he’d struck out in anger. Just like his old man used to do.
Nate didn’t have any luck tracking down the girl he’d brought back to his room. She’d just been one of the faceless hangers-on who liked to party after the concerts. He’d been twenty-three and the wake-up call had changed his life. He took a break from the band and returned home to Las Vegas, where he’d spent the next twelve months writing music.
It hadn’t been an easy time. For the first two month
s neither the words nor the music would flow. The urge to lose himself in alcohol or drugs had been a constant nagging presence. Much of the songwriting he’d done to that point had been while he was under the influence. He was afraid he didn’t know how to write any other way. At that time his mom had still been living in Las Vegas. Being around her kept him from backsliding. He had only to look at her to remember how his father had gone after her with fists and eventually a knife.
At long last the music came more easily. The words took a lot longer. What he wanted to say came from his pain and his isolation and his sense of failure. These were not easy places to visit. He’d never really come to terms with the young boy who’d been too afraid to defend his mother. While a rational part of him knew it was ridiculous to expect a kid to take on a drunk, belligerent adult with a murderous temper, Nate knew there were things he should have done.
Like tell someone. His teacher. A cop. Anyone who could help. His mom had never learned to read lips and had had a hard time communicating. Nate became her voice from the time he could speak. But when it counted, he hadn’t spoken for her.
“Are you hungry?” Mia asked. “I can heat up some soup. I brought you some of my famous chicken broth. And I have Throat Coat tea with honey.”
Nate gazed up at her in bemusement. If this was what it felt like to be the beneficiary of Mia’s nurturing, no wonder Ivy kept her sister on such a tight leash. How wonderful to have someone so focused on your every need.
I could get used to having you around all the time, he thought, but instead signed. “I’m hungry.”
He hadn’t noticed his empty stomach until Mia mentioned the soup. The thought of eating something she’d prepared with her lovely hands made him smile.
“What?” she asked, taking in his expression.
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Well, don’t get used to it,” she teased, heading to the fridge once more. “You only get me for three days.”