Unfaded (Faded Duet Book 2)

by Julie Johnson

Everything is exactly as I left it, albeit coated with a fine layer of dust. I take a few steps inside, sneezing lightly as I run a fingertip along the dresser. My eyes catch on the narrow bed where Ryder and I spent our first night together and suddenly, I’m finding it hard to breathe.

  “Strange to be back, isn’t it?”

  Not Stevens.

  Not York.

  I whirl around at the sound of his voice, stunned to find Ryder leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed casually over his chest. As though there’s nothing at all strange about the two of us being alone, talking like things are normal between us. As though we haven’t been locked in a slow war of emotional attrition.

  I’m done. Done being friends. Done apologizing. Done trying.

  I nod, throat too tight to speak.

  He steps inside the small, sunny room, his eyes roving every surface. “Lot of memories in this town. In this room.”

  “Ryder…” My voice breaks.

  His eyes lift to mine and, just for a moment, they’re totally unguarded. The stark longing in their depths makes my pulse pound twice its normal speed.

  “Do you ever think about what might’ve happened, if I’d never gone to LA, the first time? If I’d stayed here with you?”

  “Sometimes,” I admit softly.

  “Do you think—” He breaks off, running a hand through his thick stubble. “Do you think we would’ve had a shot? If I hadn’t been so intent on chasing fame, and realized what I was leaving behind? If you hadn’t been so damn stubborn, and owned up to what you were letting go?”

  My eyes press closed. “I don’t know, Ryder.”

  “Felicity.”

  His tone begs me to meet his stare, and I can’t help but comply. His eyes demand an answer.

  “I think…” I shake my head. “I think even back then, we both knew this—” I gesture between us. “—wasn’t going to be easy. Scorpius and Orion, remember?”

  His chest expands with a deep inhale. “I remember.”

  Don’t worry, Felicity, he promised me, forever ago. For you, I’d move the stars.

  We’re both totally silent for a long while, just staring at each other. Not at war. Not fighting. Not sniping or glaring or growling. Momentarily at peace, our weapons down, our anger tabled.

  Looking into his eyes, I have the inexplicable sense that a long, painful chapter is finally coming to a close.

  The end of something broken.

  The start of something unwritten.

  “Ryder…”

  He clears his throat. “Anyway, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” A ghost of a smile crosses his face. “I’ll see you at soundcheck, later.”

  He walks out without another word, leaving me alone in the tiny space I used to call home. Dust motes swirl in the air around me, along with thoughts I can’t quite block out.

  A story still unfinished.

  A love as yet unfaded.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  ryder

  It’s strange to be back in Nashville — back home.

  I’ve walked its every street, eaten at every restaurant, played at every dive in town. I spent twenty-two years here, dreaming of the day I’d finally cross those city limits for good. So eager to escape the destiny awaiting me here, I couldn’t recognize everything I was leaving behind.

  After a long meeting with Francesca and an uneventful soundcheck, the rest of the band heads to our hotel’s rooftop pool, but I head out into the night instead. I walk ten blocks, my steps unhurried even as my pulse pounds with nerves. The two tickets are burning a hole in my back pocket with every step.

  I stop outside the warehouse, eyes lingering on the fading WOODS ELECTRIC sign hanging over the open bay doors. The van’s missing from its spot, so he’s probably out on a work call. I steady my shoulders as I step inside and cross to the small office. The lights are doused, the doors locked.

  Pulling the ticket envelope from my pocket, I grab a pen off the hallway table. The tip hovers as I think about the last words my father said to me.

  You walk out that door, you’re no longer my son.

  The pen finds purchase and I scrawl the words on the back of the envelope before I lose my nerve.

  In case you’ve changed your mind.

  I don’t bother signing my name. He’ll know.

  Sliding the envelope beneath the door, where he’s sure to find it, I turn and walk away from the future that could’ve been mine, a new peace settling over me with each step.

  Maybe they’ll come. Maybe they won’t.

  Either way, I’ll sleep easier knowing I tried.

  For too long, I’ve been letting my life slip away, waiting for things to change with enough time or distance or space. But if I’ve learned anything at all, these past few months of misery, it’s that nothing ever alters without putting in an effort.

  Don’t run, I told Felicity, weeks ago. Stand and fight.

  My lips twist into a smile — the first that’s crossed my lips in so long, I can hardly remember my last.

  It’s time I take my own advice.

  “Nashville!” Felicity’s voice booms through the speakers. “Y’all are looking particularly amazing, tonight!”

  The crowd roars in response, screaming her name as she bends to touch the hands reaching up from the front row. I don’t let myself glance at the far left corner of the floor section. I don’t want to see if the two seats I reserved for my parents are still empty.

  “And can I just add…” My words echo out to every corner of Nissan Stadium. “It’s so damn good to be home!”

  The screams of nearly seventy-thousand people shake the air all around us. It’s the biggest show we’ve done in quite a while, and their energy is infectious.

  “Before we play our last song, I just wanted to take a minute to say thank you, on behalf of the entire band, for coming out to see us tonight.” Felicity’s speech is well practiced, at this point. “All of us, at one point or another, have called Nashville home. It’ll always have a special place in our hearts. We love this city — and we love y’all!”

  They scream at the top of their lungs, cheering for the song they’ve been waiting for all night. Felicity starts walking toward the catwalk so we can sing Faded in the center of the crowd. She glances over her shoulder at me with confusion when she realizes I haven’t moved from my mic.

  What are you doing? Her expression screams. Come on!

  But I don’t move. I just look at her, standing there in her starry dress, sparkling like the prettiest constellation I’ve ever seen. When the crowd’s roars grow to an impatient crescendo, I adjust the strap of my guitar and lean into my mic.

  “Actually, folks… we’re going to do a little something special for you tonight, before we say goodbye.”

  Felicity is pale with uncertainty. Eyes wide, spine stiff, she walks back to the main stage to stand by her mic.

  I look to Aiden and Linc, to make sure they’re following me. The bassist gives a grave nod; the drummer a wide grin. They’re ready. They’ve been ready for this moment for weeks.

  My smile is soft as I lean into the mic again. “How’d y’all like to hear something we’ve never played before?”

  Their answering hollers are louder than ever, their enthusiasm palpable in the air all around us.

  “Now, I wrote this song a while back.” I glance out at the crowd, my lips twisting in a smirk. “It’s about a girl I made a promise to, a long time ago. A promise I haven’t always honored in the past.” I pause. “A promise I intend to start honoring from this day on.”

  Their yells are deafening, people whispering back and forth, speculation flying in the air. I hear a soft sound from Felicity, but I don’t look at her — not yet.

  I’m not finished.

  “Because this girl? This goddamned girl…” My smile turns to a grin. I shake my head and laugh. “She’s so damn beautiful, even though she’s broken. She’s impossibly stubborn, but unfailingly kind. She doesn’t ask for help, e
ven when she needs it. She’s not perfect — hell, she’s a damn mess, most of the time. But she’s my mess. She’s mine.” My head turns to hers. Our eyes lock in an instant. “Felicity… This one’s for you, baby. It’s called Move the Stars.”

  The audience goes wild, but I hardly hear them — the whole world faded out of focus as soon as I turned to look at her. She’s all that exists, anymore.

  Behind me, Aiden and Linc play the intro, the one we’ve practiced in the late hours these past few weeks, when the girls are asleep. The rhythm builds, my fingers hit the strings, and with my gaze holding hers, I sing.

  Had I known when I walked out that door

  I’d never see your face no more

  Would’ve stayed in bed and held you

  A little longer

  There are seventy-thousand people in this stadium, but I’m only singing to one.

  Had someone told me that same night

  I’d lose the light of my whole life

  Would’ve never left your side

  Without a warning

  The chorus rings out from the speakers, the only sound in the deathly-silent stadium.

  Hindsight’s twenty-twenty, but love is blind

  I’d go back honey, but I can’t change time

  So here’s the note I should’ve left

  The note I would’ve left…

  If I could move the stars.

  Her face crumples, mascara tears streaking black tracks down her cheeks as I sing the final verses.

  So here’s the truth I never said

  A promise I can’t forget

  For you I’d move the stars…

  The song fades out and the audience explodes. It’s an unbelievable reception, considering it’s their first time ever hearing it, but I don’t give a damn. I don’t pay them any mind at all. Because Felicity is walking toward me. Closing the distance between us with purposeful strides, her face a beautiful mask of determination.

  I barely have time to spin my guitar around to my back before she slams into me, a jarring impact. My arms go around her, dragging her closer as she rocks up onto her tip-toes and slides her hands deep into my hair. When she lifts her face to mine, scant inches away, I can see every single golden fleck in her bottomless eyes.

  “You’re mine,” she breathes, making my heart swell to bursting. “And I’m yours, Ryder. Fuck the rest.”

  I’m so stunned to hear a swear come out of her mouth — the only one I’ve ever heard her use — I’m pretty sure I gape at her. At least, until she leans in, laughing, and presses her lips to mine in a kiss so sweet, so pure, so real and so right, it takes everything in me not to break down, right there in the middle of the stage, with the whole world watching.

  Mine.

  She’s mine.

  Fucking finally.

  I can hardly see straight, let alone listen to the cheers and catcalls that reverberate far outside the reaches of this stadium, as the news breaks on social media and sweeps across the world like an indomitable flood.

  Did you hear about Wildwood?

  Ryder and Felicity…

  They’re back.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  felicity

  We hold hands as we walk to the end of the pit platform, unable to let go even for a moment. The crowd hasn’t stopped screaming since Ryder’s song faded out, since our lips tangled together in a kiss that made all the pain and heartbreak of the past few months worth it, ten times over.

  My whole body shakes as we take our places in the center of the platform. Not back to back, like we usually do — face to face, eyes locked, breathing to the same tempo, every beat of our hearts in perfect sync.

  “I don’t know if I can sing, right now,” I whisper tremulously as the first notes of Faded start to drift around us.

  “Of course you can, baby.” His grin grabs hold of my heart and doesn’t let go. “I’m right here with you.”

  His words are enough to ground me. To center me.

  We never look away from each other as we belt out our biggest hit, the whole stadium joining in as we reach the chorus.

  Sure it’s sad, but it isn’t complicated

  You’re my only memory that never faded…

  In that moment, with music in my soul and stars in my eyes, I know, no matter what, the words I spoke to him were true.

  I am his and he is mine.

  Come what may.

  Because for him — for us — I’d do anything.

  Even rearrange the goddamned constellations.

  The backstage meet-and-greet session is the longest hour of my entire life, even with Ryder standing a few inches away, his arm brushing mine every few seconds. Maybe especially with him standing there. The desire thrumming between us is burning so hot, I can feel it singing my skin beneath my clothes.

  Fifty more minutes.

  We smile and mingle with our fans, thanking them for coming with big smiles on our faces. Meanwhile, inside, I’m dying.

  Cause of death? Ryder Woods.

  Forty more minutes.

  The strain of being next to him but unable to touch him, surrounded by a room full of people watching our every move, is enough to drive me insane.

  Thirty more minutes.

  I want his mouth on my skin, my hands in his hair. I want crisp sheets and soft sighs, his name on my lips as we finally, finally, finally…

  “Thank you so much for coming!” I say brightly, waving goodbye to a young couple who drove all the way from Mississippi to see us.

  Ryder’s gaze slides to mine, taking in the sight of my bright red cheeks, my lust-clouded eyes. A wolfish smile appears. He leans in a shade, close enough that his stubble brushes the sensitive shell of my ear, and whispers, “You’d better wipe those needy thoughts off your face, baby. Otherwise I’m dragging you into the closest broom closet and making good on two years worth of sexual frustration.”

  “Are you trying to dissuade me?” I gulp, a bolt of desire shooting straight between my legs. “Because that doesn’t sound so bad…”

  “Felicity.”

  I meet his eyes and see they’re spilling over with need. “A bed. Not a broom closet. Hours. Not minutes. Alone. Not with a room full of people around the corner.” His nostrils flare. “Got it?”

  My brain feels rather foggy as I contemplate hours in a bed with him, after so long apart. His head between my legs… my tongue tracing every letter of the tattoo over his heart…

  “Twenty more minutes,” I breathe.

  “Christ,” he growls, looking away from my face, a muscle jumping in his cheek. I worry he’s upset with me, but a few seconds later, his hand curls around mine. Our fingers intertwine so tight, I’ll probably lose circulation, but I don’t let go. Not even when the next group of fans come spilling into the room, and I’m forced to sign autographs one-handed.

  Ten more minutes.

  When only single digits remain on the clock, I’m about ready to do a jig.

  Naked. Horizontal. While lying beneath Ryder.

  I glance toward him as the final fan steps through the doors. The grin falls off my face when I catch sight of Ryder’s expression. He’s staring intently across the room at an elegant-looking brunette. She’s dressed far more conservatively than most people do for a concert, her skirt and blazer combo at once tasteful and demure. Even if she wasn’t staring at the man by my side like he’s responsible for the very earth turning beneath her feet, I’d know she was Ryder’s mother.

  They look so alike, it makes my breath catch.

  Ryder’s hand squeezes mine tighter as she approaches, coming to a stop a handful of feet away. She clutches her purse so hard, her manicured fingers go white. I get the sense it’s to keep herself from hurling her body into her son’s arms.

  “You got the tickets.” Ryder’s voice is carefully blank.

  She nods. “Yes.”

  “I’m surprised you came.”

  “Oh, Ryder…” Her voice breaks. “Of course I did.”

>   “And Dad?”

  She shakes her head, wincing. “I’m sorry, he—”

  “It’s fine.” Ryder cuts her off. “Really.”

  He doesn’t react, not outwardly, but I can see the way his father’s absence carves into him with deep strokes. His grip tightens on mine, almost to the point of pain. I squeeze back as tightly as I can manage, ignoring my smarting eyes.

  The silence stretches on, going stale with all the things they aren’t saying.

  “You must be Mrs. Woods,” I interject softly. “I’m Felicity Wilde, Ryder’s…” Ex-girlfriend? Rekindled flame? Soon-to-be sex slave? “—singing partner,” I finish lamely.

  Her eyes flicker to mine, full of warmth. “Well, of course you are. It’s so lovely to finally meet you.” Her eyes drift back to her son. “I’ve followed your career, these past few years. Kept track of what you were doing, as best I could.”

  Ryder tenses. “Why?”

  “Why?” Her voice is sad. So, so sad. “You’re my son, Ryder. I’m so proud of you, of everything you’ve accomplished.”

  His throat convulses. “Dad made it pretty clear, when he threw me out, that neither of you had any interest in seeing me again.”

  “He regrets that moment, more than you know. I wish you understood how much he wants to make things right.”

  “Then where is he? Why not come here and tell me that himself?”

  “Your father…” She shakes her head. “You know what he’s like. He’s stubborn and set in his ways. You got that from him, I’m afraid.”

  “Yeah, well, I hope that’s the only thing I inherited.” His voice holds notes of bitterness.

  Her eyes fill with tears. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m sorry for not trying harder. I’m sorry we pushed our dreams onto you, instead of embracing the ones you wanted to chase for yourself. I’m sorry about all of it.”