by Sonya Clark
The words came out faster, as if she needed to get them out before the storm of emotions inside her blew up. “I dropped out of school and lived with the Hollisters while I was pregnant. Mr. Hollister helped me study for my GED. Megan went to the doctor visits with me as often as she could. I don’t know their names, all that’s sealed, but I know that they live in Tullahoma and they’re nice people with good jobs who couldn’t have a biological child of their own. My daughter is eight years old.”
She squeezed her eyes shut briefly, seeing images it hurt to remember. When she opened her eyes, Wade was looking right at her, and she didn’t look away. “My daughter is eight years old. But she’s not my daughter.”
Few people knew about the adoption, and only one person had ever seen her cry about it. Megan got her through so many bad days and worse nights in the first couple of years. Scarred by her mother’s judgment, Daisy kept it as secret as possible and kept herself under tight control when it came up with the people who did know. All that control was stripped away now and she let herself open up to the loss. It broke her open, all the way down to the part of her soul where she dreamed of holding her daughter in her arms. Pain and loss, regret, a love so visceral it shattered her heart to pieces that had never quite healed right, like a broken bone set wrong. But there was also grace.
“I didn’t know if I could ever do better,” Daisy stammered through choking tears. “I wanted her to be free of all that, and I didn’t know how to do that on my own, so I gave her to people who could. It was a gift. It was a gift to her, and to that couple. It was the only gift I could give her.”
Wade ran one hand up and down her back. The touch made her realize that at some point he’d taken her in his arms. She sank into his embrace, the solid feel of him grounding her as emotions continued to buffet her. He gathered her closer, pulling her into his lap and murmuring quiet, wordless comfort. Daisy cried until she had nothing left. It took a long time and it left her aching and hollowed out, but in the end she recognized it for the scouring release that it was.
Another thing she knew for what it was ─ the tenderness in Wade’s touch. He hadn’t said anything yet, but if he could still touch her with such sweetness then surely he didn’t hate her.
Daisy sat up with reluctance. “I need to go wash my face. I’ve cried so much it hurts.”
Wade pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I don’t really know what to say to you. All I know is, you did give that couple a gift. Your daughter, too. I just hope when she’s grown, that she can look at it the same way.”
Her breath came in sharp puffs. “I hope so, too.” She climbed to her feet and shuffled to the bathroom like a zombie, thoroughly wrung out by the conversation, the day, every damn thing.
Chapter 34
Wade stared at the dust motes dancing in a beam of sunlight from the window closest to the door. He didn’t know how to process all of this. A gift was absolutely what the adoption had been. How Daisy’s own mother could see it differently was beyond his comprehension. God, no wonder Daisy was so close to Megan and Mr. Hollister.
He moved to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed to wait. Thoughts raced through his head too fast to make any sense of them, so he tried to clear his mind and just be.
It didn’t work.
Daisy stepped out of the bathroom and approached the bed. “What are you thinking?”
“Everything.” He shook his head. “I know you gotta be worn out after that, but I need to tell you something. It might upset you.”
Daisy tensed. “I don’t know if I can take anymore.”
“It might be the kind of thing that’s better to talk about now instead of later.”
“Okay.” She sat with her back to the headboard and hugged a pillow. “Lay it on me.”
“My mother knows. She told me, today in the kitchen.” He sketched out the conversation in as much detail as he could. “She wasn’t sure if I could handle being there for you. I’ve never been the most reliable guy. My first marriage failed partly because I couldn’t handle the hard stuff. I’ve been running from that for years.” He stared at the tips of his boots for a long time before continuing. “Kristin was nineteen weeks along. Everything seemed fine. The doctor appointments went well, she was feeling great after the morning sickness went away. We were young so we didn’t think about anything beyond the usual basic ultrasound. One day she started bleeding and it was so bad, when she called the doctor they told her to go to the emergency room. We had an appointment the next week for the ultrasound that would tell us if we were having a boy or a girl.”
“Were they able to tell you what happened?”
“Ah, something about chromosomal abnormalities. I know what it means now but it didn’t make any sense to me at the time. They told us the baby was a boy and that there was nothing that could have saved him. That’s all I really understood.”
Daisy moved to sit by him, one arm around his shoulders and the other around his waist, her legs drawn up and knees angled over his thighs. “I’m so sorry, Wade.”
He reached one hand up to cover hers that rested on his shoulder. “Kristin just kind of shut down. She wouldn’t take about it and it didn’t take long before she barely talked to me about anything. I didn’t do any better. I didn’t try to get her to open up, I didn’t make an effort to get us into the counseling the doctors recommended. I just went back on tour.”
“How did she feel about Empty Rooms?”
“She never told me and I was afraid to ask. By the time that album came out, the divorce was almost final and she’d moved back to Knoxville. I never expected that song to get any traction. Hell, I was surprised the label even wanted it or the rest of the album. That’s a rough album to listen to.”
“I cried when I listened to it,” she said. “I understand why you won’t sing those songs at Rocky Top. How did you get through the tour for that album? Having to sing those songs every night? God, no wonder you started behaving the way you did, all the drinking and partying.”
“I could have stopped. Putting the bottle down has never been a problem for me.”
“No, it seems more like you’ve got a forgiving yourself problem that you bury with booze sometimes.”
Her words hit with the clarity of revelation. He hadn’t been able to handle the depth of pain and loss that he and his ex-wife both felt after the miscarriage, so he’d fled as fast he could. And then he’d never forgiven himself for that. Maybe it was finally time.
He turned his body toward hers and cupped her face with his hands. “You see things about me nobody else sees. As publicly as I’ve lived my life, that’s a hell of a thing.”
“Maybe it’s because I see you. I don’t care about the big country star, Wade, I love you, the man.” She drew a breath in quickly, as if alarmed to have let those words slip out. Emotions flitted across her face, and he could read every one because he was feeling them too. Fear. Hope. A tangled mix of need and want. The first spark of desire and a rush of courage.
Daisy said it again, more confident this time. “I love you.”
His heart pounded at the words. That night they went star-gazing out by the lake, when she looked right into his soul and understood him – that might have been the moment he fell in love with her. Or maybe it was that first night back on stage at Rocky Top, when she’d shown him such kindness over his stage fright when he’d probably not deserved it. Or hell, maybe it happened that very first night he met her, when she knocked his hat clean off his head and gave him hell for putting his hands on her.
Wade didn’t know when it happened. All he knew was how he felt, so he told her. “I love you, Daisy.”
She arched her body into his and kissed him with a fierceness that made every nerve in his body sing. He slid his arms around her, wishing he never had to let go. A desperate urgency crackled between them, as if they both needed relief from the day’s emotional storm. She swept her tongue in his mouth and rubbed it against his, the wet heat sending shockwa
ves through him. Her hands tugged at his clothes in choppy, uncoordinated movements. She wanted skin to skin, she always did, so he did his best to oblige her as quickly as he could.
Both stripped, Wade pushed her against the mattress, holding her down by her wrists as he kissed her. She arched up into him and bit his lower lip. “I need you inside me,” she whispered. “Now.”
He released her wrists and leaned over to retrieve a condom from the nightstand. Once sheathed, he pushed her knees further apart and held himself above her. Eyes never leaving hers, he slid one hand between their bodies and stroked her seam. She was wet and hot and welcoming, crying out as she rose to meet his touch. “Now, Wade, now.” The words were barely distinguishable between her gasping breaths.
He wanted to bury himself inside her and let instinct take over, wash away everything bad thing this day had stirred up. He forced himself to go slow, stroking her gently with two fingers. She slid her calf up over his lower back and pulled him closer. The motion sent his fingers sliding into her, the slick walls of her body grasping tightly.
Daisy angled her hips toward him. “That’s nice.”
“Nice?” He found that slightly textured patch of sensitive flesh and curled his fingers to stroke it just right. “Only nice?”
The keening sound she made in response sent bolts of heat to his cock. “Not enough,” she said. “You know what I want. Give it to me.”
Ah, God, he loved it when she was demanding. To hell with going slow. That wasn’t what either one of them needed tonight.
“I do know what you want.” He surged into her in one smooth, hard thrust. “This is what you want.”
“Yes.”
“Deep inside.” He moved her legs higher around his waist and propped himself up on his arms.
“Yes.” Her eyes were half-closed, arms thrown out and hands clutching the pillows.
“So deep inside. So hard. You’ll still feel me. Long. After. We’re done.” He punctuated his words with powerful thrusts. She met each one with a rise of her hips.
Daisy opened her eyes and reached for him. He lowered himself to cover her, rested his head in the crook of her neck and trailed one hand down to her breast. The nipple was a hard bud and she gasped when he pinched it.
Intense sensations of pleasure coiled around his middle. Stronger than that was the feeling of rightness that filled him. All those years on the road, hiding from himself and everyone else, not even realizing he’d given up on his dreams, it all fell away as Daisy tightened her hold on him. Right here in her arms was home, and he never wanted to leave.
Daisy whispered his name, her voice equal parts sweetness and demand. He answered by driving deeper, harder, moving his fingers from her nipple to her clitoris. That first light touch on her tender flesh drew a sharp gasp from her, followed by the most incredible, needy mewling noises from the back of her throat. Any other time he would have been happy to play with her for as long as they both could stand, just to hear her make those noises. Tonight, he knew his own need would keep that from happening. From the wild response of her body, maybe hers, too.
He worked the pad of his fingertip on her clit, quickly increasing the pressure. The walls of her body tightened around his cock with the first flutters of her orgasm. In seconds she came hard and screaming, the squeezing contractions of her body pulling him to his own release.
For a long time the only sound in the room was their breathing, which gradually slowed to normal. Night closed in around them. His last thought before drifting off to sleep was that he wanted to finish his latest song as soon as possible, because it was a song for Daisy.
Chapter 35
Good Time Bad Boy: Is Wade Sheppard of Empty Rooms Fame On The Comeback Trail?
The headline jumped out at Daisy as her gaze skidded over the bar. The newspaper had been left by someone who’d vacated their seat. She set her tray with its empty beer bottles down and snatched up the paper. It was today’s Nashville paper, the story written by the music reporter.
It’s been years since Wade Sheppard had a new album, and longer still since he had a hit, but if the latest videos of him performing in his hometown of Brittain, Tennessee, are any indication, the country singer-songwriter may be on his way back. A series of electrifying performances have been uploaded to Youtube by various users. The clips show Sheppard in excellent form, better than he’s been since his heyday, but that’s not the only thing about them that’s interesting. A few of the videos are from a benefit concert, with Sheppard looking and sounding mostly familiar in his signature black Stetson and bringing the crowd to its feet with his deep, powerful baritone. That set includes a startlingly personal brand new song reportedly titled Good Time Bad Boy. In the video, Sheppard claims the song is unfinished. Everyone I’ve talked to in town says it sounds like sure-fire hit, something with the potential to change the landscape for men in country music.
One producer who didn’t want to have his name on the record had this to say: “Bro country’s had a good run, but it’s time for the boys to step aside and the men to make a comeback. All these party songs are fine, but if that’s all you got, it ain’t much, you know? Wade’s one of the finest singer songwriters to ever make it in this town. I’d love for him to cut another album and show folks how it’s done.”
But if a comeback is in the cards for two-time Entertainer of the Year, indications are it might not be the same Wade Sheppard of old. More recent video from his weekend residence at a hometown honky tonk show a different man, without the hat but with a beard, and a much looser stage presence. These videos show a much more relaxed, playful Sheppard, experimenting with everything from covers of Bruno Mars to Americana and alt-country tinged original new songs. It’s an exciting transformation to see. For all the talk about the new songs, one video in particular seems to have garnered great interest here in Nashville. It shows Sheppard late in a set, playing a Spanish flavored melody on his eye-catching Gibson Hummingbird while a pretty blond sits at his feet. More than a few women viewers of this video commented on the swoonworthy looks between Sheppard and the unidentified blond. Wade may have changed from hat act to alt-country, but it’s clear he’s still a heartthrob.
“What the hell kind of word is heartthrob?” Daisy slammed the paper back onto the bar and glared at Ronisha. “Did you know about all these videos?”
“Don’t get snippy with me,” Ronisha said. “I’m only responsible for about a thousand views of him singing Locked Out Of Heaven.” The bartender grinned, white teeth flashing against her dark skin.
The flash of anger drained out of Daisy and she laughed. “I know people have been taking video, but I never thought to look online for them.”
“Well, when would you have the time?” Ronisha gave her a sly look. “You two hardly ever come up for air.”
Heat bloomed on Daisy’s cheeks and she picked up the paper to hide the blush. “This is a pretty good article. Sounds like people in Nashville would be open to him making a comeback.” She did her best to sound happy about the prospect. What kind of girlfriend would she be if she didn’t want success for him?
Ronisha was not buying what Daisy was trying to sell. “Honey, you know he doesn’t want to tour anymore.”
“That’s how the business works.” Daisy folded the paper so the story about Wade was out front. “You record an album, you have to tour to support it. I may not know much about the music business, but I know that.”
“You don’t know that he’s going to make another album.”
“Oh, come on. You’ve heard the new songs. You know they’re good.” Good was an understatement. She might not have taken the time to look for new video of him online, but she had listened to every one of his old albums now, multiple times. The best of his old stuff was good, worthy of all the awards he’d won. But the new stuff was on an entirely different plane, made up of spare, stark imagery decorated with beautiful melodies. Simply put, the new songs were too good to just be playing in some small town bar. If th
e music movers and shakers in Nashville were talking about Wade’s new songs, they’d be after him soon. Any day now, his manager would be on the phone.
Daisy spent the rest of the night working on auto-pilot. She tried to convince herself that Wade would stay with her, but she had no real confidence in her ability to outshine a second chance at stardom. He belonged on stage. He proved that every night he set foot up there and picked up his guitar. It was who he was on such a fundamental level that it couldn’t be separated from him anymore than his dark brown eyes and the deep rumble of his voice. She couldn’t stand in his way.
He loved her, and wasn’t shy about saying it. She believed him, too, and loved him back with all she had. But she wasn’t sure if that was enough, especially if they wanted different things. They’d grown closer since the night they talked about their pasts, but it was still new enough that neither of them had brought up the future. She had no idea what he wanted for the long term. She did know what she wanted, and what she didn’t.
They might could try a long distance relationship. It might even work at first, if his commute was no further than Nashville, just two hours away. But once he started touring again, what would that do to them? Daisy wanted stability. She needed it. It wasn’t even about trusting him to stay faithful while surrounded by groupies, though she surely didn’t love the thought of that. It was about wanting a home, and a stable life, and a husband who was there with her every night. She’d watched her mother and her sister try to forge relationships with men who couldn’t be bothered, with men who cared more about their job than their woman, with men who couldn’t be counted on for even the little things, forget about the big things in life. Those relationships always ended in failure. For reasons Daisy would never understand, Alice and Deanna kept getting involved with the same kind of men. Like they were trapped in an endless loop they didn’t even recognize as a pattern, much less know how to break out of. Daisy wanted more than to find herself home alone at ten o’clock at night yet again, wondering where her man was and what was so much better than being home with her.