Finding the Dream (For the Love of Music #1.5)

by Mia Josephs

  “How long has it been since you two have been in the same room even?” Lani asked pointing between him and Sierra who was smiling a wide smile that echoed a bit of her younger teen years.

  “Two years?” Donovan asked, glancing at Sierra, who was like the supermodel version of her former self.

  “Yep,” Sierra agreed. “I think that’s about right.”

  Donovan began to wonder if he’d ever get used to her looking this way.

  “Can I see my room, or should we get my stuff, or…?” She shifted her weight, sliding out one hip and then the other, just like she’d done since she was eight. She bit her lip, waiting for Donovan to give them some direction. As the little sister, she was used to following along with whatever Hanson and Donovan had going on. Donovan didn’t know if he was glad or sad that the trait of waiting had stuck around.

  Oh, and the room hadn’t gotten cleared out. At all. The last thing he needed was her parents seeing how little he’d done.

  He’d wanted to put off facing that disaster until later. “Let’s go eat before your parents have to make the drive back.”

  “Great idea!” Clark tucked his wife under his arm. “We’ll grab a bite, and then leave Sierra to move in,”—he gave his daughter a pointed look—“as promised.”

  “Thank you.” Sierra waited on the landing outside the apartment while her parents walked down the stairs.

  Donovan locked the door, really wondering what he’d gotten himself into when he agreed to let Sierra stay at his place.

  “My mom rode with me for the first half of the three-hour drive, and then they switched,” Sierra whispered. “It’s ridiculous.”

  Donovan thought bringing two cars down just so her parents could see her off here rather than at home was a little extreme, but he wasn’t going to get in the middle of that argument.

  “Your mom said we’re supposed to pick up some cabinet or something. For all your stuff?” he asked as they walked down the stairs.

  This was going to be like sharing his apartment with a stranger. A hot stranger. Who he was supposed to keep “safe.” Whatever that meant.

  “They’ll deliver it tomorrow.” She swung around and looked at him as she hit the bottom step, her mane of light brown hair flying behind her. “It’s really big.”

  Donovan paused. “How big?”

  “You measured for me.” She laughed.

  “Right.” Another thing he’d only sort of done.

  “It’s for all my craft stuff.” She grinned again. “It’s how I make money.”

  Right. Internet. The blog. “That’s still going well?”

  “Of course.” Her voice was full and sweet. Sierra’d had a nice voice for as long as he could remember. “I try out all that stuff that people put on Pinterest, and I try to re-create crafts I find on Etsy, and I go to thrift stores and turn ugly stuff into cool stuff. That kind of thing.”

  “I think I understood like five words of that.” Donovan watched her for a reaction. “But at least I might understand a little more than your brother.”

  “Well, he’s not on my happy list right now, so whatever.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Sounds serious,” Donovan teased and lowered his voice. “Not on the happy list.” This, he knew how to do with Sierra. The teasing and back-and-forth. So, not a stranger. Just a new version of the girl he already knew.

  He slipped into the backseat of her parents’ Lincoln, having flashbacks to high school. So weird.

  “And Sierra’s finished her book.” Her mom beamed from the front seat.

  Sierra frowned as she took the other side of the backseat. “Well, no one’s been interested in it yet, so…”

  “Still a very cool accomplishment,” Donovan said. He turned to stare at her profile—small chin and nose, huge lashes and a perma-dimple from smiling. Definitely the kind of girl he’d notice.

  Sierra and her mom went back and forth a few times about Sierra’s book, and Donovan watched Sierra, still sort of amazed that she’d grown up. People grew up. They changed. Logically he knew this, but in practice, it felt different.

  They stopped in front of the Chinese restaurant Clark always took him and Hanson to when he came to town, and Donovan rocketed out of the car realizing that he’d stared at Sierra almost the whole way there.

  As soon as he shut his car door, Clark put his arm over Donovan’s shoulders. “I can’t thank you enough. Twenty years at Planned Parenthood and ten years with my own home practice has warped my perception of how many girls find trouble with the wrong guy.”

  Donovan watched the women walk in front of him, Sierra’s toned legs looking miles long. Her rear hugged perfectly by snug shorts. “Yeah,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’ll watch out for her.”

  He just had no idea how.

  Two

  Sierra watched her parents drive away from the parking lot of the apartment complex. Finally. Grant City was nothing but a college town, it’s not even like they’d dropped her off in the middle of Portland. But her father acted like she was in a different country.

  She really thought that after not seeing Donovan for nearly two years, it would be easier to be around him, but it wasn’t. Her ridiculous crush made her act like an idiot like always, and this time instead of teasing her back, he seemed a little detached and quiet. Major suck.

  He was fairly quiet through dinner, and she could only imagine the embarrassing things her father might have told him. It’s not like she couldn’t tell that he and Donovan had taken time to have some sort of “discussion” about her. Her dad ranked about a fifteen on a one to ten paranoia scale. Ten being insanely paranoid. It was probably better that she didn’t know, because the last thing she wanted was to be annoyed at both her father and brother.

  “Why don’t we get the rest of your stuff upstairs,” Donovan said.

  “Thanks again for talking my parents into heading home.” Sierra opened her car door and handed Donovan a box.

  He gave her an odd smile. “No problem. I know how your dad is.”

  Sierra rolled her eyes before pulling another box out of the backseat of her old Ford Escort. “Off the scale,” she said. Her stomach skittered around at being so close to the guy she’d fallen asleep thinking about for far more nights than she’d ever admit.

  She watched Donovan’s ass as they headed up the steps to his apartment. No, their apartment. And then her eyes floated to his red hair, and then back to his ass…

  She really needed a new obsession. As she’d gotten older, she started to realize she had probably been a pain more often than not to her older brother and his best friend, and she wished she could take some of it back. Okay. A lot of it back. Donovan had lived with her family when she was in middle school, putting her solidly in the position of “little sister.”

  It was okay though. She had steps of getting him to see her for who she really was, and then, with any luck, he might start to see her as a possibility. It felt silly, even in her mind, but the thought of being with Donovan in a very real way wasn’t funny at all. It would be…amazing.

  Instead of focusing on Donovan, she had to focus on moving into her first apartment. That was monumental.

  Donovan unlocked the door, and pushed it open. This time she was stepping into her first place without her parents.

  She set down her box and pulled out her phone, heading straight for twitter.

  New Digs! I’m twenty and just barely moved out on my own! #Lame? #OrStillOK? Either way #HAPPEE

  Donovan’s brows twitched in some kind of confused look as he watched her hit “Tweet” and she finally slowed her brain down enough to really look at him. A Great Outdoors t-shirt from the store, jeans, the motorcycle boots that only someone like him could pull off. The barbell in his eyebrow that she wanted to press her lips to.

  Gah! She was doing it again. Obsessing. Like she had all through dinner instead of eating. She forced herself to turn toward the small living room. Brown blah couch and massive TV, and...that’s it. “
Where’s your guitars? Music posters?”

  “Oh.” He scratched his head. Folded his arms. Unfolded his arms. Leaned against the counter.

  Was Donovan fidgeting?

  She opened to twitter again, real quick.

  What does it mean when guys fidget? #Help

  She was about to hit “Tweet” when she realized that she already had twenty responses to moving in, and she had a lot of work to do that night. Maybe no tweeting for guy advice…right now…

  “Guitars?” she prompted.

  “I think they’re in Hanson’s room, and with him gone, it’s sort of turned into storage…” He cringed. “I promise I’ll help you get some of the stuff out of there, okay?”

  She dismissed him with a wave, already well acquainted with her brother’s sloppiness. “Totally fine.”

  But wait. Why weren’t his guitars in the living room? He was always playing. Having them in a room that didn’t even belong to him felt so...inconvenient. Donovan shoved his hands in his pockets and Sierra’s hands followed the movement right toward his crotch. How his jeans seemed to be slightly displaced from his…

  “You look so…” edible, manly, sexy, older, mature, lickable… She forced her eyes back up to his face. “Good.”

  “Thanks.” He cocked his head to the side, his perfect, red hair curving around his ears and over his forehead. “What?”

  “You have such great hair.” She grasped her phone harder before she was tempted to touch his hair like an idiot.

  Van chuckled, the freckles on his face crinkling, but even then… Even with the tiny wrinkles, he still looked her age instead of twenty-four. “Yeah. I need a cut. And the curse of red hair is that I seem to look about five years younger.”

  She fought for something to say to make him know she’d grown up, but came up with nothing.

  “How’s music going?” she asked, desperate to change the subject. And also because she was still curious about the missing guitars. She’d posted one of his songs on her blog a couple months ago, and it had gone totally viral—well, viral on the “Sierra scale” with just into the five figures for hits. It felt beyond incredible that something she’d done had helped him, even though it was short-lived.

  Donovan shrugged. “Not really enough time, Sierra. I mean… I’m out of college and running a business, and… And I just don’t have time to do everything.”

  She’d spent millions of nights listening to him play in her backyard. More than she could count. Donovan not playing all the time felt...inconceivable. “I don’t get it.”

  He walked past her, back toward the car, and she followed. “Life happens, See.”

  “And what about the store my brother dumped you with?” Sierra hated that Hanson had talked Donovan into running the outdoor store with him after college. It’s not what Donovan should be doing. He should be on a stage somewhere singing to the masses—even though it would put him even further out of her reach. On top of that, she always sort of knew the store was her brother’s dream and not Donovan’s. Sort of ironic considering Hanson wasn’t around all that often. “I mean music is your big dream, not running some store, right?”

  Donovan chuckled, looking a little more like himself, but his all-too-perfect shoulders were still a little more tense than normal… At least more tense than he used to be. “He didn’t dump me with it. Both your brother and I like all the outdoor stuff around here, and it pays the bills. Oregon. You know? Not a bad way to make a living. A really good way if you’re willing to put in the hours.”

  “But you still have the same crap furniture you did when you started college.”

  She hadn’t been out to visit her brother in over two years because once he’d graduated from college, and even before then, he was busy with the store or traveling. Sierra was a homebody, and one of very few people she knew who actually got along with their parents. She’d been ready to leave home for a while, but she’d never been in a hurry to get out.

  Donovan tossed a duffel over his shoulder. “You’re right, but that’s because I don’t really care, not because I can’t afford it. I’m saving. A lot. And when I get to a point that I’m ready to move in with someone or get married or have kids, I’ll have that cushion, you know?”

  “Fair enough. I’ve lived with my parents since I graduated just to save, so I get that.” Wait. “Do guys actually think about stuff like getting ready for families?”

  “Depends drastically on the guy.”

  Donovan headed back up the stairs, Sierra once again following. Donovan’s ass once again at eye level.

  “And your blog keeps you busy?”

  “Very.” Sierra nodded. “Maybe you can be my man-taster.”

  Donovan coughed before pausing at the apartment door and facing her with a wide-eyed look. “Your what?”

  “When I try recipes and stuff. You can be ‘man who tastes things’. That’s cool, right? All my food is tax-deductible. Awesome, huh?” She’d learned fast how to turn her blog into a business and how to manage her money.

  “Oh. I get it. I thought…” He shook his head with a laugh and stepped back into the small place. “I don’t know what I thought.”

  Sierra dropped the box, laughing to herself. “That I was going to ask you to taste another man?”

  He rubbed his face before pushing the hair off his forehead. “I don’t know. It just sounded funny.”

  “You’re so…” She couldn’t put her finger on it exactly. “More reserved, or something, than I remember.”

  Donovan shrugged. “Maybe I did grow up.”

  Her chest caved a little because she felt that, once again, she was the pesky little sister. Whatever. She’d spent too much of her life letting people make her feel bad. That part of her life was over—at least, as she tried to ignore the hollowness in her chest, she wanted it to be.

  “Well, I guess I should finish moving in.” And maybe sometime in the next day or so she’d start to act normal around him.

  “Why don’t you survey the disaster of your brother’s room. I’ll finish emptying out your car. And then I’ll help because I was supposed to clean up your brother’s shit…” He winced. “…stuff, and I didn’t. So yeah. I’ll be right back.”

  She nodded once and once again watched him walk away, desperation and frustration clinging to her harder than ever. So close, but still just as out of reach as he had been when she was three hours away. Or…almost as far out of reach.

  Her eyes took in the small apartment. Plain walls. Worn couch. New TV. Decrepit little table. Yes… She definitely had her work cut out for her. Not just for the apartment, but for Donovan.

  Time to put her plan into action.

  I need to show him I’m a grown up—even if it means showing a little extra skin. I have to get it out of his head that I’m a “little sister” type, or he’ll never notice me the way I want him to.

  - Sierra

  Okay. The best plan is to concentrate on her being almost like a little sister. If I feel like she’s my little sister, I’ll stare less, I’ll notice more if other people are looking at her, and it’ll be easier for me to keep her “safe” even for Clark Standards.

  - Donovan

  Three

  Hanson had left his room in a disastrous state, clothes, boxes, backpacks… Sierra wasn’t surprised. Her brother could be nice when he wanted to be, but was generally the most selfish person she knew—charity aside. He traveled like a millionaire philanthropist, only without the money. Okay, maybe that was a stretch, and maybe she had to admit, even to herself, that her brother’s travels had made her jealous. It wasn’t just Africa. It was South America, Central America, and the archeological dig he’d helped with in New Mexico.

  Sierra’s boxes were stacked in a corner, and Van had asked if she’d wanted help with her brother’s stuff, but he’d been standing in the doorway of her bedroom flipping his keys over and over and over in his hands. He’d done enough by hauling her boxes up and assuring her parents they weren’t nee
ded in town to move her in.

  So Donovan was out. Probably with guy friends. Maybe a girlfriend. They didn’t talk enough for her to know the specifics of his life. When she was dating someone else, she hadn’t wanted to be around Donovan because it would have felt awkward. She’d have dumped any guy in the space of about two seconds for Van, and that wasn’t the kind of girl she wanted to be. Now that she was single, and once again living with him, she wished she’d have tried harder to see him over the past couple of years.

  Letting out a sigh she tapped her friend Lindsey a text:

  Sierra: I’m an idiot. He will never. Ever. EVER. See me as anything but the annoying chick he got stuck with as a roommate. Also. I hate my brother.

  Hanson’s room was the most boring room ever. Oak bi-fold closet doors. White blinds over the windows… It was going to take her a while to make the room feel like a space a person could live in instead of a cell with a nasty mattress.

  Lindsey: Can’t be that bad. And I’ll help you kick Hanson’s ass when he’s back in town. What are you making for breakfast?

  That was the plan. Or part of it. Since beginning blogging herself, Sierra had read enough lifestyle blogs to know she had to get herself together before finding the man of her dreams. She already knew who the man of her dreams was (at least she hoped Donovan was still the kind of guy to fit that spot), so the last couple of years had been spent making herself better and hoping that Donovan hadn’t changed too much. She’d dated a few different guys for several months each, but none were quite right. Not as deep as Van. Not as soulful as Van. Not as funny. Not musically talented. Not a redhead.

  No guy had lasted for long. Not that the breakups had been her doing…

  Lindsey: Sierra? Earth to Sierra

  She grasped her phone again.

  Sierra: Something spectacular for breakfast. I have three ideas. I’ll post on Facebook which wins. K?

  Lindsey: K!

  She tossed her phone on her brother’s bed. First order of business would be to burn his sheets and then see if anyone on Pinterest had come up with a good way to clean mattresses. She loved her brother, but only God knew what kind of horrid diseases rested underneath his messy sheets.