After the second song, my dad gets up.
“I’ll be in there,” he whispers, pointing to a door about twenty feet away. “If you need anything,” he emphasizes.
I nod, feeling almost comfortable in the bar. Especially since everyone has seen me with my father.
The duo plays two more songs and then the guy, Ricky, takes the mic.
“So, we have a special surprise for you. My good friend is here tonight along with his band Rust –’’ he crowd cheers loudly, “and they’ve agreed to play two new songs.”
I smile, excited to see another band.
The duo leaves the stage, and a few guys start setting up drums and some other things. I don’t really pay attention as I take a sip of my drink.
“Thanks everyone,” comes a rich voice over the mic. It sounds almost familiar, and I glance up.
The blood drains from my face when I see whom the voice belongs to.
My heart starts pounding, and my palms sweat.
It’s Blake. Blake Evans. Tall and grown up, standing on the stage, dressed in faded jeans and a t-shirt. I didn’t even know he could sing.
My head spins as everything starts coming back to me. The way it felt to be fifteen and kissing Blake. Making love to Blake and being so connected to him that I thought nothing could ever break us.
I can’t even focus on what he’s saying, before I know it his band starts playing. I’m blown away by his voice, and my mind stills long enough for me to register that Blake is talented, insanely talented. His voice is raw, rich, and sexy as hell.
Blake himself, is sexy as hell. He’s tall and still has the same messy brown hair that he had as a teenager but his face is more masculine and mature. His eyes are just as green as I remember, and I can see he’s filled out nicely...My eyes roam over his broad shoulders and the strong muscles in his arms and chest.
Shit now I'm starting to blush.
I watch on, mesmerized as he sings his first song. By the time he’s halfway through his second song, I know that I have to get out of this bar. There is no way that I can run into him, not after all these years.
My father still isn’t finished with his meeting and I rifle through my bag and find some cash to throw down on the table. I jump up, nearly knocking over my stool, just as the band finishes the song and everyone starts clapping.
I look back up to the stage, and Blake’s eyes lock with mine.
Shit.
I quickly turn away and hurry towards the exit.
“Paige!” He screams into the mic.
I wince, feeling fresh pain over my relationship with Blake that ended thirteen years ago. It's incredible how much an old wound can still hurt after all these years.
I hurry and make my way towards the door, my dad can catch up with me later.
“Paige! Please! Wait!” Blake says, chasing after me.
I turn around to face him and he stops short, smiling ear to ear, all the sudden he looks just like the fifteen year old boy I left over a decade ago.
“My god, it’s really you?” he asks in disbelief.
“Hi Blake,” I whisper.
He’s so close that I can see the beads of sweat on his forehead and the familiar mole on the back of his right hand.
“I can’t believe it,” he breathes.
I force myself to look away from Blake’s gaze.
“I need to go,” I say quietly.
“Paige, please. I haven’t seen you in thirteen years. Can’t we go somewhere and talk for a minute?”
He sees the fear in my face.
“Or just catch up?” he asks.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Blake.” His name rolls off my tongue easily, the sound both so familiar and foreign.
“Paige. Please. There was a time when we were so close-’’ He stops speaking and the unspoken words hang in the air between us.
I feel it, it’s still undeniably there – the chemistry between us.
Or maybe I’m losing my mind.
At that moment my father comes hurrying over to us, his eyes quickly moving between Blake and I before he comprehends.
“Blake,” he says, shaking Blake’s hand. “I wasn’t expecting you here tonight.”
“It was a last minute thing,” Blake explains, “We ran it past Becky this afternoon.”
My dad nods; he can sense my uneasiness.
“Well, as you can see Paige is back in Nashville.”
“Yes,” Blake says slowly, “I was just asking her if she would like to catch up for old time’s sake.”
My dad peers at me, unable to read my emotions.
I shrug at Blake. I can’t deny that a huge part of me wants to spend time with Blake, to talk with him and find out what he’s been up to over the years.
“I suppose we could,” I say quietly, barely able to hear my own voice over the pounding of my heart.
“Great! Where are you staying?”
Blake is too enthusiastic; it frightens and excites me at the same time.
My dad puts his arm protectively around my shoulder. “She’s staying with me.”
“Maybe I can stop by for lunch one day.”
My mouth is dry.
“Does tomorrow work?” Blake prompts.
It's not that I'm afraid of Blake, I'm fearful of the emotions he's stirring up inside me. I don’t like being alone with men, I don't feel comfortable when I'm aroused by men...but Blake is different; Blake is Blake. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a little aroused watching him up on stage a few minutes ago.
“Yes. Come over around one.” I say.
Blake smiles at me, and it's one of the most sincere smiles I've ever seen. I remember that wide, lopsided grin but it’s even sexier now, it’s more grown up.
We say good-bye and my dad and I make our way out to the car.
“Honey, are you sure you want to do that?” he asks softly, as we get in the car.
I feel a wave of indignation at my father. Who is he to ask about my choices after he’s been gone for so long?
“Why would you care?” I bite back, my anger flaring.
“You’re right,” he says quietly, “it's none of my business.”
I sigh. “I’m sorry, Dad. That was out of line. I shouldn’t have said that.” I have so much anger directed at my father, that it’s hard to reign in sometimes.
“But you’re right." He says sadly. "I haven’t been around for the past thirteen years. I don’t know anything about your life.”
I hang my head. “You not being around wasn’t your choice, it was mine,” I point out. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m really trying. It’s just hard sometimes.”
“I know, honey. I know.”
We drive the rest of the way home in silence.
FIVE
Paige
Tossing and Turning
I don’t sleep much, most of the night is spent tossing and turning, my mind racing with thoughts of Blake. I dream restlessly, remembering our final summer together, the way we would splash in his pool and then kiss, our mouths tasting of chlorine.
I get up a little after seven and head out to the main kitchen in the house. I’m not usually up this early, so I decide to eat breakfast with my dad. He’s a cereal kind of guy, so I pour us two bowls of Apple Jacks and sit down with him.
“This is a nice surprise,” he says as he takes his first bite.
“I was up, so I figured I would eat with you. I didn’t sleep well.”
He eyes me carefully. “Have anything to do with Blake Evans?”
I keep my eyes on my cereal bowl, and shrug. “Maybe. It’s weird seeing people again after so long.”
“Blake isn’t just anybody.”
“Yeah, I know. But he was a big part of my life here in Nashville, so it will be nice to catch up with him. I’ve thought about him a lot over the years.”
Too much.
My dad nods, and looks like he wants to say something but stops himself. I don’t press him. He rinses out his di
sh and then grabs some files.
“I'm gonna head to the studio but if you need anything let me know. I can come home any time.”
“Thanks, Daddy. I’m a big girl though.”
Something I have to keep reminding myself.
Then he’s gone.
I clean up my bowl and head back to my bedroom. I lay back down on my bed, hoping that maybe I can nap, but sleep evades me. I didn’t think to check the fridge for what I can make for lunch. Oh well, there must be something in my fridge or the one in the main kitchen.
I play some music for a couple hours, working on what I’m going to play this Friday night. My stomach churns with nerves and fear, but I remind myself that this is why I’m here, I came back to Nashville to start my career.
At eleven I decide to shower and get ready. I spend way too much time rummaging in my closet, obsessing over what to wear when Blake comes over for lunch. It’s ridiculous.
I finally settle on a simple green cotton dress. I paw through my own fridge and find some pathetic fixings for sandwiches. I head out into the main kitchen to find the right ingredients for BLTs.
I start frying the bacon and take out some of the leftover salad from the night before. I’m not sure what Blake likes to drink, so I set out two empty glasses on the kitchen table. I gaze out the large panoramic window in the back of the kitchen and see the sparkling pool and cabana tent blowing in the breeze.
On a whim, I pull out a tray, and instead put our glasses and plates on the tray. It would be nice to eat outside by the pool. Just as I finish slicing the tomatoes, and start pulling out the bread, I hear a knock at the door. Butterflies swarm my stomach, and I nervously wipe my hands on a nearby dishtowel.
I pull the front door open and there stands Blake, just as handsome as ever, dressed in faded jeans and a fitted white t-shirt, which shows off his muscles and his tan. His hair is slightly messy, just like when we were kids.
The sight of him almost leaves me speechless, but I manage to greet him with a smile.
“Please, come in,” I say, finally.
He’s holding a plastic bag of some sort, and a Styrofoam container with two drinks.
“Hi,” he says shyly, stepping inside. “So I realized that I invited myself over for lunch. That was pretty rude, so I thought I should bring the lunch.”
“Oh, well it’s not a big deal. I was just going to make some BLTs.” I say, with an awkward laugh.
Blake sets the bag down and pulls out two clear plastic bowls of salads.
“Salads with BLTs?” He offers.
“Perfect. That's exactly what I was thinking.”
I smile, starting to feel more at ease with Blake, as I put away last night’s left over salad.
“Great minds thing alike.” Blake hands me one of the drinks. “It’s iced green tea. I wasn’t sure if you would like it.”
“I love green tea. Thanks. That was thoughtful of you.”
I take the sweating cup and take a sip.
We’re silent for a moment, each of us looking at one another. I feel exposed in front of Blake.
“It’s been so long,” he says quietly.
“I know.”
Blake runs his hand through his hair, something he did when we were teenagers.
“Christ, Paige,” he exhales, “There was just so much that happened. So much I never got to say to you. It ate me up. It tore at me for years. I never had closure with you.”
I can see the pain behind his green eyes, and I realize that I hadn't remembered his eyelashes properly. They’re so much longer than I remember.
I turn away quickly, busying myself with the toast and making the sandwiches.
“There was a lot I wanted to say,” I admit, “but I just couldn’t.” I turn around to face Blake. I wasn’t expecting the conversation to get so serious so fast. “I’m not the same person anymore.” I say quietly.
And then before I know what’s happening, Blake stands and pulls me into his arms, and I don’t resist, breathing in the familiar scent of him. It’s almost too much for me, but it feels so good, so safe and warm in his embrace...As if I never left Nashville.
To my horror, I start to cry.
“Shh, it’s okay, Paige. Let it out, you can cry. It’s alright.”
This only makes me cry harder. I bury my face in Blake’s broad shoulder, comforted by his kindness but afraid of my overwhelming feelings for him. I need to remind myself that I am not fifteen anymore. Blake and I are both adults.
Things have changed, we both have lives of our own now.
After a minute or so, I pull away embarrassed, wiping at my face.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry." I say in between sobs. "I don’t know what came over me.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” He says, his brow furrowed.
“It’s just – you were such a big part of my life, and then we never properly settled things. Being here – seeing you –it’s just bringing back so much. I’m still not sure if moving here was the right thing to do.”
Blake looks at me, clearly shocked by what I've just said.
“You moved here?”
I nod, arranging our lunch on the tray.
“Come on, let’s go eat outside. We can talk more out there.” I say, ushering him through the sliding glass doors.
Blake grabs the drinks and follows me out to the patio. Once we’re settled inside the cabana and I’ve flipped the fan on, I explain more.
“I moved here two weeks ago. It was a hard decision, but it seemed like the right time to try to fix things with my dad.” I pause, because I’m not sure how much Blake knows. I don’t really expect that my father has told him much, if anything. “My dad and I haven’t really spoken since I was fifteen.”
I take a bite of salad and chew it before swallowing. “And my dad has been dying to help me with my career. Which was going nowhere in Bristol.”
“Career?” Blake looks shocked again.
Wow, Daddy clearly hasn’t told Blake anything about me.
“I play music, too. I mean, I don’t have a band or anything like you do, but I sing and play the guitar.”
“Paige, I had no idea.”
“Yeah, well I had no idea you played either, Mr. Blake Shelton” I tease. We definitely need to lighten the mood.
“It was just something I picked up. Ya’ know, after you left. It helped me cope with things.” Blake’s eyes bore into mine, and I feel my skin catch fire from his gaze.
“Me too,” I whisper, “I don’t know what I would have done if my mom hadn’t given me my guitar. I think she was at a loss for what to do with me. Music saved me. I know that sounds cheesy.”
“Not cheesy at all.”
We continue to eat, lost in our own thoughts.
“So tell me,” Blake says, “What have you been doing in Bristol all these years?”
I sigh, because I can pretty much sum it up in a sentence or two, but I’ll try to make it sound better.
“Well, for starters, I went to college. All four years. I majored in business, but played my music on the side. Once I started working after graduation, I realized that I hated business. I pretty much hated everything that had to do with being in a stuffy office all day. So I quit, and pieced together a bunch of different jobs that let me pursue my true passion, music.”
“Like what?”
“Really, Blake, it wasn’t that exciting.” He seems so interested in my life. “I waited tables, worked in a coffee shop, taught guitar to little kids. I always had a couple of gigs every week, but it was never enough to support me without the other stuff.”
Blake nodded knowingly.
“No men?” he asked quietly.
I met his gaze. “No men. A boyfriend here or there but no one lasted.” It was the truth. I didn’t need to tell him that I was incapable of having a real intimate relationship.
“What about you? What have you been up to in Nashville all this time?”
Blake smiles, stretching his legs out
.
“Oh, after I was done pining after you?” he teases, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
I play along anyway. “Yes, after you were done pining after me. I’m sure it was many, many years.” I laugh. It feels natural.
“It was,” he says somberly. “I tried college, but it wasn’t for me. So I just focused on my music, like you did. Once your dad got his record label back up and running a few years ago, Rust really began to get serious. Your dad signed us last year, and he’s been great.”
Blake takes a long sip of his green tea.
“Oh! And there’s Savannah. I can’t believe I almost forgot to bring her up,” he looks sheepish. “She’s my fiancé.”
I shouldn’t be surprised and I certainly shouldn’t feel this overwhelming flood of pain and disappointment.
But I do.
Engaged.
I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach.
Of course, Blake is engaged. I should be surprised that he isn’t married yet. He’s a catch; anyone can see that. I imagine Savannah as a beautiful southern belle, long flowy blonde hair, like a ripe advertisement out of Southern Living magazine.
“Wow. Umm, congrats.” I say, with a forced smile.
“Thank you. She’s great. You should meet her sometime.”
I can tell Blake doesn’t really mean it. That would be the definition of awkward.
“So, when is the big day?” I ask, pasting a smile on my face as I pretend to be interested.
“Sometime in February. I’m not sure if we have an exact date yet.”
I nod imagining a Valentine’s Day wedding; I’ve always found that to be the cheesiest time of year to get married. Bright pink and red hearts and conversation candies, and lace.
“How nice. So what does Savannah do?” I ask, I hate her immediately and I hate myself more for feeling that way.
“She works for a local magazine. Nashville Beat. You may not have heard of it.”
I shake my head; I am definitely out of the Nashville loop.
“I actually didn’t tell her that I was coming here today,” Blake confesses, rubbing his face with both hands. He looks tired suddenly.
“Why?” I can’t help asking, and feeling a small bubble of hope.
Damaged But Not Broken Page 5