by Lynn Stevens
“Dad, I …” I pulled away from him, wiping my own tears from my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I finally let him in. “I want the theater.”
The song ended on the stage, and Gracin ran toward us. I held out the water bottle without taking my eyes off my father.
“What’s –” Gracin began, but I cut him off with my finger. He snatched the full bottle and gave it back to me three loud gulps later completely empty.
The music started again, and Gracin greeted the audience for his final encore.
Dad decided to open his mouth. “The theater?”
“Yes.” I closed my eyes, pressing them down to remind myself this conversation was real and not the one I’d been practicing for the last month. “I love this place, Dad. And Luke’s going to take over the resort one day, but he sucks at managing the theater. You’ve spent most of your time running between here and the resort all summer as it is. Imagine if Luke tried. Things would fall through the cracks –”
“You don’t know—”
“Yes, I do.” I tugged at my hair, trying to not get frustrated and failing miserably. “And you do, too. Luke doesn’t even want to be here. And I … I don’t want to leave.” Desperate for him to understand, I pleaded with my eyes. How could he not see how much I wanted the theater? “This is where I belong, Dad. This theater is what I love, what I want to do.”
“You’re serious?” He crossed his arms, lifting his right hand to his chin to tap it.
“U of N has a theater program. And I’ll double major, theater and business.” I sighed and softened my tone. “I can do this. If you’ll just let me have a chance.”
Dad straightened his back, turning into the businessman I knew so well. This stance meant logic and a plan. I liked a good plan. “Okay. But you’ll spend your summers working here, and you’ll have to work your way up from the bottom. Just like your brother will at the resort. Once you graduate, we’ll determine the best course of action. It may be better for you to go to New York or L.A. to work at a few venues before coming back home. You have two years to decide if this is really what you want. If you realize the theater isn’t going to make you happy, you drop the theater major and stick with business. Okay?”
“Okay.” For some reason, I hadn’t expected this to go in my direction. Well, not for some reason, but for the Luke reason. My brother had been groomed since birth to take over the family businesses. I was not. Neither was Miranda. How would he feel when he learned about this deal with Dad?
The second encore ended. Gracin stopped beside us, half out of breath, and stared at me expectantly. During my conversation with my father, I’d totally forgotten to grab a bottle out of the cooler for Gracin. I smiled at him, barely able to contain my excitement. Gracin smiled back, but there was a question in there. One I couldn’t wait to answer.
Dad clasped Gracin on the shoulder and congratulated him on another great show before disappearing in the mass of people crowding backstage. We made our way toward the small cluster of fans so Gracin could sign autographs and have photos taken. My patience was tested. I wanted to tell Gracin about my deal with Dad. When I’d first told Gracin about my desire to take over this part of the family business, he’d told me to let Dad in on the idea. Never did he pester me into talking to my father, but he always encouraged me to be honest about what I wanted.
Standing behind him as he smiled and signed his illegible scrawl on paper and, sadly, even some forty-year-old woman’s breasts, I had an epiphany. One that wasn’t necessarily of the woohoo variety.
As soon as the door closed to his dressing room, he turned on me. “What was going on with your father?”
I stepped back, shocked by the hardened tone in his voice. Regaining my composure like a seasoned pro, which I was, I attacked back. “Why? Think it had something to do with you?”
Gracin pinched his nose, slowly exhaling. He dropped his hand and stared at me, exhaustion creeping through his body. “No. I’m sorry. That’s not how I meant to ask. I just … Is everything okay?”
I dropped the defenses. “I told him I want the theater.”
Gracin’s head shot up. “Are you serious?”
The smile spread faster as I nodded.
“That’s great.” He closed the short distance between us and wrapped me in his arms. Once he pulled back, his eyebrows furrowed. “Wait. What did he say?”
“I have two years to decide if this is really what I want. If it is, he may even send me to New York or L.A. or somewhere to study before I come home. Then I’ll have to work my way up from the bottom. So, basically, he’s onboard with the idea.”
“That’s great, Carly.” He kissed my forehead and repeated his words.
I inhaled his sweating stench and forced out my epiphany. “Can I ask you a question? Have you ever told your father what you want?”
Gracin stiffened.
I pushed onward even though my heart said stop. My brain had taken over. Stupid brain. “I know you don’t want to perform the songs you do, Gracin. Don’t tell me otherwise. If you really liked that music, you’d write it.” I let my arms fall away from him and stepped back. “And I know why you do it, too. I know you love the stage. And the people love you on the stage. I just …” I took another deep breath, wishing his expression would change from cold anger to something less, well, cold and angry. “The music you write is the real you. And it’s incredible. People should get a chance to hear those songs. Who you are up there now is good, but who you really are is amazing. And … I just want you to be happy.”
He didn’t say anything for a long time. He wouldn’t even look at me, but I didn’t move. I wasn’t giving up so easily. The anger I waited for didn’t come. Instead, Gracin’s face softened and the exhaustion I’d seen earlier weighed heavier on his entire being. He didn’t look like an eighteen-year-old pop star; he looked like an over-the-hill singer who just needed to rest. We didn’t talk while we finished up for the night. We didn’t talk on the way to his cabin. We didn’t talk as I settled the place for the night, making sure Gracin was in bed before I left.
As I headed toward the door, Gracin’s voice drifted across the room. He said only one word, but it was the word I needed to hear.
“Stay.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
August twenty-sixth slapped me the minute I woke up. My last day in Branson. The next day I would be in the Mercedes that started everything and on my way to Nashville. Knowing I’d spend my last night with Gracin, I’d come home to wake up in my bed one last time before Thanksgiving break in three months. By some miracle, my stuff had been purchased and packed. I’d done so little, my mother had taken the time to manage everything in the last few weeks. She’d take photos of things she wasn’t sure I’d like and text them to me. It made shopping so much easier.
My room was cleaner than it had been in years. The boxes in the corners stacked neatly on top of each other, labeled in my mother’s neat script. Further evidence of my departure. It felt more like I was moving out for good than leaving for college.
I put on my jogging clothes and hopped on my scooter. As much as I hated the stupid thing, I realized how much I’d miss it, but Miranda was set to inherit it and Dad didn’t want it stolen in Nashville. Freshmen weren’t allowed cars on campus, and the scooter had been my only way to get around town all summer. With the exception of Gracin’s truck. A small bubble expanded inside my chest.
Parking the scooter, I stared at the cabin and took in the wash of memories it held before heading toward the door. In a few weeks, Gracin wouldn’t be here either and someone else would take over the cabin. It would stop being Gracin’s place. The bubble grew again, lodging in my neck.
I didn’t get a chance to knock before Gracin pulled the door open. He stared at me for several minutes. The silence pressed into me.
“Ready for our last run together?” I said, choking on the words.
Gracin grimaced and nodded. We stretched, the silence taking its toll on me. My mouth opened and
rattled out how much my mother had done for me. I detailed the boxes and the location, and even the stupid color of marker she’d used.
“Carly, stop,” Gracin said softly. I turned toward him. “Let’s not talk about that, okay? I … Let’s just run.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
We started out, taking our usual route. The pounding of our feet on the pavement soothed me for a moment. Our breathing filled the lack of conversation between us. It was one of the things I loved most about Gracin: he enjoyed the quiet. It killed me as we ran, but this was what he wanted. And I intended to give him anything he wanted on our last day together. I needed him to remember everything about me, because there was no way I’d forget a minute of our time together.
Halfway through the run, Gracin slowed to a jog and stopped. I made it half a block, lost in my own thoughts, before I realized he wasn’t beside me.
“Carly,” he said as I turned around. His pinched expression propelled my legs back to him.
“Are you okay?” My eyes took in every inch of him, searching for some physical injury that would’ve caused him to stop. “What hurts?”
“I’m fine. I just …” He cupped my face between his hands and kissed me so softly I thought I might have been imagining the way his lips caressed mine. “Sorry, I just needed that.”
My smile was genuine, if a little pained. “Never apologize for kissing me.”
We ran slower back to his cabin. I didn’t want this run to end anytime soon, but it had to. Just like so many other things that were ending in my life. We walked the trail back toward his place when we usually raced it. Our hands linked, his thumb tracing circles on the inside of my palm. Stopping at his front door, he turned toward me.
“I wish you didn’t have to leave.” He lifted his hand and ran a finger along my jaw. Hope welled in my chest. “But I understand how much you need to see your friends today.”
I nodded, swallowing the deflated balloon before I choked on it. Why had I allowed myself to hope he meant anything else? Nena, Ivy, and I had planned this last day dinner since January. They’d graciously agreed to move it to a brunch so I could have the evening and night with Gracin. I couldn’t bail on them, even though the only thing I wanted to do was follow Gracin inside and lock the door until we were old and gray.
He kissed me again, touching my face as if tracing it to memory. I melted against him like butter in a cast-iron skillet.
“I’ll see you around noon?” He kissed my nose.
“Yeah, noon.”
Nodding, he let go and stepped inside. His eyes never left mine as he closed the door. The quiet click shattered my heart.
∞ ∞ ∞
Nena and Ivy sat at our usual booth at Burger Haven in the corner by the window. We’d claimed it freshman year under the idea that we could people watch while not being obvious about it. At fourteen, it had been sound logic. I plastered a smile on my face, faking a joy I didn’t think I’d ever feel again.
“Hey, Carlsbad,” Ivy said. Her eyes darted over my face. “You okay?”
“Great. Why wouldn’t I be?” I slid next to Nena, avoiding her penetrating gaze. “Can you guys believe we’re all leaving this week?”
Ivy scrunched one eye, but didn’t push me. She knew better. “No, I can’t. This summer has been amazeballs.”
I laughed at her choice of wording. “Amazeballs? Really?”
Nena elbowed me. “She’s been hanging out with some guy who’s going to be a sophomore at Southeast. Apparently, he graduated from St. Pius last year and uses that word all the time.”
“St. Pius?” I raised an eyebrow at Nena. “Ivy’s falling for a Catholic guy? That’s so not her.”
“I know. She’s more of a Methodist kinda gal, right?” Nena’s lips turned into a smirk, but she cocked her head, examining me.
“Guys, I’m right here. And just because I swore off Catholics after Jimmy Weaver grabbed my boob in ninth grade doesn’t mean I haven’t grown and matured.” Her eyes glazed over as she stirred her ice tea. “Besides, Greg said he’s a recovering Catholic.”
“Yeah, and I slept with the football team last year.” Nena tilted her cup toward Ivy to emphasize her point.
Ivy rolled her eyes then stared at me for minute. “So, are you guys all packed?”
Nena nodded. “My room’s a mess though. My last night in Branson for three months will be spent cleaning.”
I closed my eyes for a minute to regain the little bit of composure I’d just lost.
“What about you, Carly?” Nena prodded. “All packed?”
“I guess.” I shrugged. “Mom did it all for me. I’ve been … busy.”
Nena’s arm fell across my shoulder, and she squeezed me into a hug. “We know.”
My composure crumbled as the tears spilled down my cheeks. Better to cry now than later with Gracin. He didn’t need to see me like this. I put my head on Nena’s shoulder, letting the sobs rack my body. Ivy slipped into the booth beside me, making this a group hug.
“I’m sorry, guys,” I said, pushing Ivy off me and wiping my eyes. “I didn’t want … I didn’t mean to …”
Ivy slid back into her side of the booth, laughing. Nena joined in. I didn’t get it, but seeing my friends happy made me smile a little.
“God, Carly, only you would fall in love with someone you couldn’t have for more than a few weeks.” Ivy reached out and took my hand. Her smile was both happy and sad. “I just wish you didn’t have to go through the heartbreak.”
“Me, too.” Nena took my other hand. “But be glad you had him.”
I smiled, the tears starting again. “I am. I just want more.”
With my admittance, the mood in the room shifted along with the conversation. Boys were tossed aside to discuss memories, classes, and staying in contact. The food we ordered went untouched for long periods of time, but we eventually ate everything after it cooled. I didn’t care. As much as I didn’t want to leave Gracin behind, I didn’t want to leave my friends either. We had barely seen each other this summer, and I regretted it.
Maybe life wasn’t about having no regrets. Maybe life meant recognizing those things you wished you would’ve done and making sure you didn’t repeat the same mistakes.
Or maybe life just sucked sometimes.
∞ ∞ ∞
I got to Gracin’s a little after noon. He opened the door and yanked me inside without saying hello or well, anything for that matter. It was surprising and kind of sexy. He pressed me against him, kissing my neck like ice cream dripped along it.
He stepped back, and pulled me onto the couch. I slid off his leg as he wiggled away from me. He pointed to his acoustic guitar and waited for my nod of approval.
“I’ve been writing this morning,” he said as if that was explanation enough as he tuned the strings. “I’ve never played this one for you, but I want you to hear it.”
His fingers moved over the strings like a caress. The chords sounded familiar and I knew the song the minute he started singing.
No regrets, that’s what she said
No promises, no goodbyes,
This is the time for us,
Every second we melted
Every moment we seized,
By morning, she disappeared.
No regrets, that’s what we had
No chance for more,
Memories to live on,
Memories to love on,
Something to cherish
Even as it burns.
No regrets, that’s what I said,
When regrets are all I have.
His fingers continued across the strings with an acoustic solo. Each note shredded inside me, tearing me down and bringing me back up again. This song was about us, about everything, we had and wouldn’t have. But did he mean the last two lines? That he regretted this summer. That he wouldn’t be able to look back on us without regretting everything we had together.
God, I was so sick of crying, but I didn’t know how to take thi
s song. I didn’t want him to feel this way about me. All I wanted was for him to love me as much as I loved him.
He finished and set the guitar gently on the stand. My heart seized up when my eyes met his. I traced each part of his face with my gaze. His perfect eyebrows arching elegantly over those gorgeous hazel eyes. His smooth cheeks angling toward the sharp square chin. His unstyled hair, far sexier than his overly gelled show hair. I reached up and used my finger to gently follow the path my eyes had taken.
Gracin moaned, closing his eyes as I moved along his jaw line. “Carly, please.”
I moved toward his mouth, tracing his lips with the tip of my finger. He blew out a small breath when his lips parted, and I leaned forward. I didn’t kiss him though; instead, I let my own heated breath caress his skin. I needed to memorize everything about him. He may have had regrets about us, but I only had one. And I wasn’t about to let him see how much his song hurt me. I needed to end this day, this night on a positive. If only for my own sanity.
His eyes opened, and the heat inside could melt a thousand igloos. Gracin closed the gap between us, devouring my mouth as he took possession of me. We fell back on the couch, letting the passion take over and control us. Even if he regretted the summer, there was no way he could deny the chemistry between us, the physical heat that led us to something resembling heaven.
And I needed to make sure he would never forget.
∞ ∞ ∞
“He’s a little melancholy tonight, don’t you think?” Luke asked behind me.
I didn’t take my eyes off the stage where Gracin sang Accentuate’s power ballad. The song sucked, but Gracin made it sound new and fresh with his anguish mixed in. Doubt filled me from the afternoon’s private performance. For a short while, I’d believed Gracin loved me too. That obviously wasn’t the case.