by Josie Kerr
To say the reality fell short of her expectations was a bit of an understatement.
She knew Bunny was right: she needed to tell Tobias everything that happened the night they last saw each other. Twenty years of therapists had been telling her that she needed to tell him, and if she was honest with herself, most likely it wasn’t anything he didn’t already know. She didn’t know if that made it better or worse.
Yes, she definitely needed to have another conversation with Tobias. The question was, after today, would he want anything to do with her?
The melody was taunting him.
Tobias cocked his head to the side, listening hard, trying to snag the strands of a song that began to whisper in his ear the moment he pulled out of the parking lot of The Backward Glance. He could almost see it; it was that close to being a reality.
Songwriting was feast or famine: either the melody and words came so quickly he could barely get them down or he sat in silence. Tobias was in the midst of a silent phase, had been for months. That is, until he saw Liddie again after the show.
Now, his muse was stretching, stirring, showing him a bit of ankle, the slight curve of her neck. He could already tell this song was going to be flirty, the aural equivalent of a panty flash.
Tobias closed his eyes, willing the muse to come out and play. So what if he was making breakfast? It wouldn’t be the first time he left the table in the middle of a meal to go scribble down lyrics or chords. He’d almost burned the house down more than once due to his absentmindedness during songwriting sessions. In fact, one of the last fights he and Candy had when they were married was because he’d let lima beans boil dry, but he was in his downstairs studio with headphones on and didn’t hear the smoke alarm. Whoops. The Hendersonville Fire Department had come out that time.
Tobias slid the bacon onto the plate, next to two fried eggs and two pieces of toast, while his muse leaned over to show him her cleavage. He studiously ignored the muse’s teasing as he pulled a jar of FROG jam from the refrigerator. One dip of a knife into the jam jar, though, and his muse had had enough. Suddenly she wasn’t being coy anymore—she was naked on a dock at midnight, the moonlight glinting off the water droplets on her skin.
He abandoned his breakfast, almost tripping down the stairs to get to the pedal steel guitar set up in the middle of the room. As he slid behind the vintage instrument, his muse purred. She was moonbathing, touching herself, beckoning him to join her. Tobias quickly set up the computer to record, then donned the thumb picks. He palmed the tone bar, its weight reassuring in his left hand. His muse leaned down and ghosted her lips over his ear.
“Now.”
She exhaled the melody in Tobias’s direction. Today, right now, he had no problem catching the strands and tacking them with the pick he wore on his right hand. Then he altered the notes with the tone bar, bending and smoothing the sounds, as his muse spun out the melody like cotton candy. Sound built until it was overflowing, almost uncontainable, and Tobias let it tumble out of his fingers while his muse writhed and wriggled with pleasure.
And then she began to wind down now that she’d given the majority of the melody to Tobias. As she released the last strands, she kissed him again and whispered the end of a wordless story in his ear before disappearing.
Tobias double-clicked the mouse to turn off the recording and leaned back in his chair, breathing heavily. He wasn’t surprised that he was more than halfway hard. After all, the melody his muse presented was the embodiment of that last night with Liddie, before she disappeared from his life forever.
His muse peeked through the riverside hemlock grove. “Not gone anymore,” she whispered before disappearing again, but Tobias ignored her this time because the fact that Liddie was physically nearby but not willing to see him reopened thirty-year-old wounds. He made some horrible decisions in the aftermath of her leaving the first time; he didn’t know if he could survive a second.
He got ready to play back the recording but, at the last moment, decided not to, at least for the time being. The melody was still running through his head. He could see the colors of it refract like the prisms both his mother and Liddie loved so much. He wanted to savor the purity of the inspiration, so he thanked his muse before rising stiffly from the chair and going upstairs.
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He woke up with his hand in his track pants, cradling his full-on erection. He’d been dreaming of that night so long ago, about a girl in a blue cotton dress and a boy who could barely keep his eyes on the road as he drove them to their riverside refuge. Thankfully, the dream ended while Liddie was still smiling in the front seat of his truck, and not after the night went to shit.
His muse woke up when he did, or maybe she was the one who roused him in the first place. She danced around his head to the melody he’d recorded earlier, crooking her finger at him, enticing him toward the French doors that led to the backyard. He looked beyond the porch and woods to the riverbank, to the slip that jutted out to the river that formed the edge of his property. That slip was the whole reason he bought this house.
He hadn’t been out to the slip since he’d gotten the call that his father had passed away. After that news, he’d carried a bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes to the dock, where he’d sat until both the bottle and box were empty. Then he’d stripped and slipped into the cold river, treading water until he was so exhausted he could barely climb out of the water. That was the last time his muse had talked to him, until yesterday.
“Toby, come on!” The muse pulled on his hand, hopping from one foot to the other, each bounce releasing a fountain of notes from the ground. “Trust me, Toby.” She leaned into him. “Have I ever let you down?”
Tobias shook his head. She’d never let him down. His muse always came through, even if he despaired that she wouldn’t. Her dependability was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing in that it put food on the table and allowed him an escape, and a curse in that it made his father even greedier and more demanding.
“See? I’m not going to abandon you now, not after everything we’ve been through together.” The muse stepped through the glass and motioned him outside.
Tobias stepped onto the porch. He paused at the edge of the stairs that led down to the backyard and watched the trail of melody stream from the muse’s fingertips as she dashed back and forth across the grass. She twirled around, giddy, her joy infectious.
“Come on, Toby! I want to go swimming.” She ran over to him, stopping short, leaning into his space. “Night swimming.”
“It’s not nighttime.” Tobias gestured at the sky even as it began to darken. Night wasn’t far off, and yes, it would be a perfect night for night swimming.
“Just come to the slip with me. You won’t regret it.”
Toby woke with a start, the dogs barking like crazy at the glass doors that lined the back of the house. Man, he hated dreams in which he woke up. It fucked with his head. The dogs increased their barking.
“All right, girls. Hold your horses.” Tobias snorted, imagining the two short-legged dogs atop a hansom cab. Harper, you are losing your damn mind.
Toby sighed and opened the door, and then the dogs took off toward the river. As he picked his way tentatively down the path, the melody from his earlier session filled his head. Yes, that was a solid tune. He knew he’d be noodling with it a good while. Tobias hummed the melody, testing out some variations, as he approached the dock. Then he saw a girl in a blue dress, sitting at the edge of the slip with her feet dangling in the water.
Liddie had been driving around, marveling at how much her little hometown had changed in the eighteen years that had passed since she’d last been here. What was formerly farmland or forest now bristled with subdivisions and gated communities, and the little red clay country roads were few and far between.
The landscape had changed so much that her mind really didn’t register how close she was to Fightingtown Creek until she saw the street sign alerti
ng her that she was on Nowhere Road. Her breath caught in her throat and she turned down the now-paved two-lane road and headed instinctively toward the river.
There had always been a few houses on the road that ran alongside the river, but they had been long abandoned even when she was younger, which was why this area was favored for parties and other activities that required a bit of privacy. She hadn’t been to any of the parties, mostly because she was never invited, but she and Tobias spent many hours sitting on the dock talking and swimming, and then later, kissing and planning. Now all the run-down shacks were gone, and one new house sat to the side of what Tobias and Liddie referred to as their dock. She idled in front for a few seconds, then inched forward, holding her breath. The path leading to the dock was still there and accessible. Liddie looked back at the big house and decided she’d rather ask for forgiveness than for permission, and she turned down the dirt road.
It was just as she remembered—at least, if you ignored the fact that there was a fire pit and a gazebo and giant house where the hemlock grove once was. Liddie turned back toward the river, then went and sat on the edge of the dock and took off her shoes and socks. It was really too cold to be dangling her feet in the water, but she couldn’t resist. She only meant to stay a few moments, but despite the nip in the air, the weather was nice and the sound of the river soothed her, so she stayed.
“Liddie?”
Liddie shook her head, blinking at the reflection of the moon in the water. She must have fallen asleep and been dreaming of Tobias, because she could have sworn she’d heard Tobias say her name.
“Liddie.”
She turned this time, craning her head around to see Tobias picking his way gingerly toward the dock.
“Toby? How’d you know I was here?”
He stopped where the packed dirt met the wood planks that began the slip. She couldn’t see his face, only the outline of his hard, muscular body. He was shirtless, and she could just make out the lines of ink that covered his torso and arms.
He chuckled, a melancholy sound. “For some reason, I was drawn to the river tonight. I guess something told me you were here.”
Liddie looked past him to the huge, dark house that loomed behind his silhouette. “You live there.”
“Yes.”
“This is our dock.”
“Yes. That’s why I bought the house.”
Liddie turned back to the river. “This is our dock,” she repeated. She felt his presence behind her, now closer.
“May I come and sit by you?”
Liddie laughed. “It’s your dock, apparently. You can do whatever you want.”
He stood beside her now but didn’t sit down. His feet were bare, which accounted for his careful steps earlier, and he wore only a pair of thin track pants. “It’s our dock, Liddie.”
She looked up at him. He was looking at the moon’s reflection in the water, his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t come back here for a long time after . . . you know. When I did come back, this was my first stop. That house”—he gestured with his head, without turning around—“that house was sitting there, half-finished, with an auction notice on it. The auction was the next day. I was the only person who bid on it.” He chuckled again, this time the tone incredulous. “What were the odds, right? I knew it was a sign.” He looked down at her and smiled. “It’s our dock. I couldn’t let someone else have our dock.” She saw his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed.
“Sit with me. We have a lot to talk about.”
He eased down to sit, resting his elbows on his knees, his feet flat on the boards of the dock. He blew out a breath and then finally looked at her.
“My old man bailed me out after the weekend, but only because we had a show. I called you, and your father hung up on me. Candy said she didn’t know where you’d gone.”
“She didn’t. No one knew except my father.” Liddie swallowed hard, the story catching in her throat. “You’re still driving that truck.”
She could see his teeth flash in the dark, a brief smile before he grew serious again. “Yeah. Guess I can’t let go of things.”
“You let go of me.”
He turned to her and leaned into her space. She could see the heat in his gaze, even in the low light of the moon. “No, Liddie. I never, ever let you go, not really, not here.” He tapped his bare chest. “I never, ever let you go.”
“You married my best friend.”
He closed his eyes. “Yeah, I did. Second-biggest mistake of my life.”
“What was the first?” Liddie held her breath, hoping and dreading the answer.
“Not fighting for you.”
Liddie shook her head. “God, Toby, there’s just so much you don’t know.”
“Then let’s go inside, Liddie, and you can tell me. Please.”
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Liddie perched on the edge of a sumptuous leather couch, eyes wide, taking in where Tobias lived. When they got to the house, he’d excused himself and disappeared upstairs, only to reappear wearing a T-shirt that fit him perfectly. She had to admit she was a little disappointed that he’d covered up all that glorious ink, but she knew it was for the best if she was going to get through this.
“Would you like a drink?” Tobias was fidgety, his hands moving along the back of the couch as if he was picking out notes. “I have cold water, sweet tea . . .”
“Have anything stronger?” Liddie gave him a shy smile.
Tobias laughed, a real laugh. “What’s your choice? Wine? Beer? Bourbon?”
“I’m not picky. Whatever you’re having.”
Tobias nodded and pulled two lowball glasses from the cabinet. He poured two fingers of amber liquid from a decanter and then joined Liddie in the living room, bringing both glasses and the bottle with him. He didn’t sit next to her, but his dogs lined up in front of him as if protecting their person from her nefarious wiles.
“They don’t like me.”
Tobias snorted. “They don’t like women. Candy was nasty to them from the moment I brought them home. They’d been dumped outside of town. I thought they were squirrels because they were so tiny. I bundled them in my shirt and took ’em to the first vet I encountered. She told me they were too small, that they probably wouldn’t survive the night. But they did, and I bottle-fed them until they got big enough. That was thirteen years ago.” He scratched the dogs’ heads. “They’re good girls. And speaking of . . .” Tobias raised his glass. “To friends returned.”
Liddie nodded, and Tobias drank his whiskey down in one swallow and then poured himself another one.
“You didn’t use to drink.”
Tobias shook his head. “You just didn’t know I drank. Hell, there was a lot of stuff you didn’t know I did.”
“Did Chet know?”
That got a snort from Tobias. “Who the hell do you think hooked me up?”
“Ah. Right.” It made sense, in hindsight, and the fact that Chet facilitated things made her angry, so, so angry.
Liddie blew out a breath and set her glass on the coffee table that sat between her and Tobias. She tried to decide where to begin. He needs to know everything, a little voice in her head told her, but she wasn’t quite ready.
“When I got home that night, Dad sent me straight to bed, no questions asked by either of us. All he said was, ‘You’re going to need your rest.’ I assumed I would be volunteering at the church, peeling layers of wax from the gym floor with a dull spoon or something. But I figured I could do anything for ten days, right?”
“That’s when you were going to leave for UGA.”
Liddie nodded. “But the next morning, he woke me up before it was even light. He told me to get dressed—he’d picked out ‘appropriate clothes’ for me—and to meet him downstairs. I did, because what else was I going to do, right? I went downstairs, and we got into the car and drove to Atlanta, where he put me on a bus to San Diego to go live with my uncle and his wife.” Liddie shook her
head, still in disbelief all these years later. “No discussion, nothing. Just a tirade about how I forced him to make an example of me and how I’d brought all this on myself because of my wanton behavior.”
As Liddie related her story, Tobias had turned beet red and then white as a sheet. Now, his color was normal, but he was breathing hard. Liddie could see his jaw working, clenching and unclenching.
When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, deadly. For the first time, Liddie was a little bit frightened of him.
“If I had known, Liddie, I would have been on the first plane out there. Hell, I would have met you on the road somewhere and . . . disappeared with you. I should have come to get you.”
“I wouldn’t have gone with you. There’s no way I could have, not after . . .” She swallowed hard. She couldn’t finish telling him. Not tonight. “Believe it or not, Micah’s sending me to California was the best thing that could have happened.” Liddie swiped at her eye. “I loved you so much, but between my father and yours, we would have never lasted. There was too much . . . stuff.”
Tobias nodded before sucking in a shaky breath. “So your aunt and uncle treated you well?”
“They did. Frankly, they were horrified by Micah’s behavior—”
“You refer to your father as Micah?” Tobias interrupted. “Sorry.”
“He told me he couldn’t stand the thought of a having a daughter like me. Honestly, I couldn’t stomach having a father like him. It worked out. I’m sure you can understand.”
He nodded. “So, you were happy? At least, for the most part?”
“After a while, I was. After—” She stopped short of telling him the truth, that she was happy after she gave up on him. “I went through a bit of a wild phase after I got to California. My aunt and uncle weren’t the straitlaced disciplinarians that my father assumed they were. They let me get it out of my system, which I did, but not before I’d gotten pregnant. He was in the navy. We got married and stayed married until he passed away five years ago.” She shrugged. “We were mostly happy. There were some rough times. Things got interesting when Tally had a baby before she graduated high school. Richmond . . . didn’t handle it well at first, but then he got a grip.”