Glancing around the vacant building, she admitted, “I didn’t much like her, either.”
Crystal giggled, and the amused sound of their joined laughter bounced off the tiles, filling the empty spaces of the room. Hannah covered her mouth with her hand.
Man, it felt good to laugh.
“Truth is, she was a horrible friend,” she confessed. “I can’t believe I put up with it for as long as I did. I guess I was just so starved for acceptance…” Sighing, Hannah stared at the rim of her Vanilla latte. “Of course, by the time I decided I’d had enough, Krista already had her claws in Deacon. I had to find a way to live with her. I couldn’t risk losing him, too.”
Crystal snorted. “Yeah, like that would’ve ever happened.”
She scrunched her nose at her friend’s flippant response, and Crystal shook her head. “Girl, anyone who paid a lick of attention to the three of you back then knew the score,” she said. “Why else do you think Krista was so jealous?”
Hannah sputter-coughed on her drink. “Jealous!”
Dabbing at her now stained white cotton tee, she widened her eyes, wondering how on earth Crystal had gotten things so backwards. Seriously, had she visited a yearbook recently?
“Jealous of what, exactly? My alluring stutter, or envious way with the male species?” She rolled her eyes, then snapped her fingers. “Oh, I got it! My off-trend, bargain-based, Pollyanna fashion sense. Now that was truly impressive.”
Hannah blew a raspberry to soften her sarcasm—and deflate her pity-party of one—and set her drink on the counter. Making a face, she pushed up onto the receptionist’s desk and sighed. Her spiel had left a sour taste in her mouth.
Growing up, she’d been all-too-aware of her social shortcomings, but she’d never once let those perceived flaws define her. At least not publicly. She’d left that to her tormentors.
Instead, she’d woken up each day with a smile on her face, figuring if she couldn’t be a great beauty, or a smooth conversationalist, or a world-class flirt, then she’d be the best friend, daughter, and student she could be. She’d always tried her best to stay positive.
Today was an all-new low.
As if she could read her thoughts, Crystal hopped up beside her and said, “Krista saw in you what the rest of us did. At least those of us who bothered to pay attention.” Her eyes were warm and intense, as if she could will Hannah to believe her. “She was jealous of your kindness, sweetheart. Your patience and unique way of looking at the world. You’ve always radiated optimism and joy, despite not having the easiest start.”
Then she grinned. “It didn’t help that Deacon always eyed you like a caveman starving for steak.”
Hannah snickered. “I think that soy latte went to your head,” she replied, kicking out her foot.
“I’m serious! That boy was completely crazy about you. We all knew it. Heck, anyone with a pair of eyes saw how gone he was, and from the pictures I saw posted from the Opry bash, he still looks at you that same way.” Crystal hooked her foot around Hannah’s swinging appendage and repeated, “Starving for steak.”
Hannah smiled at the imagery, but she fought it, too. The possibility was dangerous, to both her heart and her psyche…but hope swelled anyway.
In many ways, she was a polar opposite of the girl she’d once been. Her makeover and parts of her plan had given Hannah confidence to reach for things she otherwise wouldn’t have. But in other ways, she was the same off-beat goof she’d been at fifteen. Her friends and family still meant everything to her. She was still loyal and honest. She still made up silly songs about nonsensical things.
And her heart still belonged to Deacon.
When she’d returned from Paris, she’d vowed to start confronting things that scared her. Well, nothing scared her more than the fear of losing Deacon and Max. As she sat there, swinging her foot beside Crystal, she realized that was exactly what she’d do if she simply limped away without fighting for what she wanted.
Operation Find My Happy had been a success. She’d made great friendships, gone after what she wanted, lived life, and even made love with Deacon. But she’d failed at the most vital level. She’d never really put herself out there—at least not in the way she’d swore she’d do.
Not once had she told Deacon that she wanted to be with him, and not the band. Hell, she hadn’t even told him that she loved him. She’d let her actions do the talking, to a man who grew up believing he was worthless. How dense could she be?
Why wouldn’t he believe she was settling? She’d given him no reason to think she wanted to be Blue’s nanny. How was he to know that by staying on tour, and staying with him, that she was finally following her heart?
Hannah raised her head and met Crystal’s knowing smirk. “Looks like I’ve got a caveman to catch.”
Chapter Eighteen
The old gym smelled the same. Like stale sweat, popcorn, and a hint of Old Spice, a not altogether unpleasant combo that forever would be linked with some of Hannah’s favorite memories: cheering Deacon from the stands, stomping her feet and waving her handmade signs while ignoring the judging looks from her classmates. Whenever Deacon was on the court, she hadn’t cared what they said because those hours hadn’t been about her. They’d been about him.
Today would also be about him. But, unlike those nostalgic days in the past, Hannah was utterly terrified.
“This is so exciting!” Crystal enthused, grabbing her arm from the railing. They were seated in the front row of the second story. Otherwise known as Hannah’s unofficial spot. “It’s like a sappy rom-com come to life.”
Hannah chuckled. “Let’s just hope it’s stronger on the romance than the comedy,” she murmured, biting her lip.
When she’d looked up Blue’s schedule, determined to put it all on the line for Deacon, she’d discovered the band only had one stop before arriving in Charlotte. Waiting a few extra days had been torturous, but it’d also given Hannah time to create a plan. A potentially awesome plan to topple Deacon’s defenses for good and win his heart forever.
Of course, the opposite could happen, too. He could say he didn’t return her feelings, and she’d make a complete fool of herself in front of the entire town. It certainly fit her stream of luck.
Swiping her sweaty palms over the lap of her jeans, Hannah took in the madness. On the far wall, a huge banner was displayed for Life & Lyrics, Charlie’s foundation for teens fighting depression, along with a poster about the private concert.
Courtside, organizers bustled like angry ants. A guy in a black T-shirt, dark jeans, and Blue baseball cap placed a microphone in the center of the floor, and when he glanced up to survey the crowd, Hannah recognized Brad, one of the band’s roadies. Seeing his familiar face somehow made everything seem more real.
A quick check of the scoreboard showed it was nearly time to start.
Butterflies exploded in her belly.
Back in high school, just before Deacon would take the court, he’d find her in the stands. She’d raise her sign, he’d smile and shake his head, then he’d give her their special signal before the game. It was silly, really. Just a brush of the nose, a point in her direction, and a sly wink. But Lord, it had made her giddy every time.
Would Deacon look for her today, too? Had Arabella let it slip that she’d be here? Would he give her that same silly signal like he used to?
Does he miss me as much as I miss him?
“Look, there’s Missy and Dave,” Crystal said, snapping Hannah out of her endless loop of questions. “Oh, and over there are Molly and Nicole. Hmm, I thought Nicole married…yep, there he is.” She turned to Hannah. “Mike Gleason was in your year, right?”
Hannah smirked. Mike had been in her year, all right. As their resident class clown, he’d been one of her biggest tormentors, using her verbal slipups and handmade duds as easy fodder for laughs.
In fact, as she looked around the crowded gym, Hannah spied several people who used to tease her, along with boys who’d passe
d her over and girls who’d been jealous of her relationship with Deacon. Every single one of them had seen her for her flaws, never once bothering to look beyond them. For so long, Hannah had thought that was how Deacon had seen her, too. His best friend, sure, but not a girl he could ever love.
Crystal had put things in a new perspective. For too long, she’d allowed her fears to blind her to the truth. That ended today. If it took declaring her love for Deacon in front of Mike and Nicole, Molly and Missy, Dave and the entire rest of the town, too, then so be it. She was fighting for her happy.
Hannah was going after what she wanted. No, what she deserved. She was in love with Deacon Latrell, and for the first time in her life, she believed he might just be in love with her, too. She’d keep on believing that until he looked her square in the eyes and told her otherwise.
Please don’t let him tell me otherwise…
“Ever been to a Blue concert?” Crystal asked, waving away Hannah’s amused smirk. “I mean, before this tour.”
“Nope. Deacon wasn’t in the band then, and it’s not like I had extra cash lying around for tickets. But I did download all their albums, even from the beginning.”
“I hadn’t heard of them before ‘Rain Dance,’” Crystal confided, leaning in close. “But I got so tickled reading about the love story between Tyler Blue and his wife in the magazines that I flew right into uber-fan territory. It was so dang romantic. And to think, now I actually know one of the members!”
It was weird hearing Sherry and Tyler talked about so casually, like they were Jessica Biel and Justin Timberlake or something, but she supposed they kind of were like that. Her new friends were bonafide celebrities.
“Arabella has extra passes if you want to watch everything from the ground,” Hannah told her. “I’m staying here, of course, but I can give her a call if you want.”
“And miss out on the fun?” Crystal asked. “Are you insane? I want a front row seat to the looks on everyone’s faces when Deacon publicly admits that he’s in love with you.”
Hannah’s belly flipped at the words. “You know, he might not.” Crystal went to argue, and she lifted her palms in the air. “I heard you the other day, but we should still be prepared for the possibility that Deacon could reject me. If he does, I’ll be heartbroken…but I won’t regret coming here today. One way or another, I’m finally going to know how he feels.” She bumped her friend’s arm. “I’ve got you to thank for that.”
Crystal smiled and then murmured, “Personally, I’m holding out for the fairy tale.”
Smiling wistfully, Hannah laid her head on Crystal’s shoulder. “Me, too.”
…
It was surreal, walking around his former locker room and seeing Tyler, Charlie, Miles, and Nate standing around the benches. The lost, angry kid who’d stalked this room felt like a completely different person from the moderately successful, figuring-life-out man he was today. Still, everywhere Deacon looked, memories assaulted him.
Grueling practices and games, both here and in college. Pounding his feet against the tile as he waited to take the court. So many days he’d bolt through those double-swinging doors, ready to release some of the aggression that clogged his veins, only to glance at the stands and find Hannah smiling at him. Even then, she’d been his calm.
Of course, Krista had been in the stands, too, at least whenever something more important hadn’t come up. She’d made a production out of cheering for him. But Hannah’s quiet, steady presence and her sweet, encouraging smiles were the things he’d sought. It had always been her who he’d played for, her who he’d loved.
God, had he loved her.
Why in the hell had it taken him so long to figure that out? He could wring his former self’s neck. Why couldn’t he have seen what she’d meant to him, or realize sooner that despite his mistakes and every single person who’d left him in the past, that he was worthy of love, too?
“Dude, stop stressing so much. You’re gonna give yourself an ulcer.” Miles slapped him on the back as he came to stand shoulder to shoulder with him near the doors.
“I can’t help it,” Deacon said with a sigh. “If you’d heard the things I said to her—”
“It doesn’t matter,” the guitarist interrupted. “Deke, man, I’ve seen you together. I’m telling you, you go out there and give good grovel, things will work out. You and Hannah are too good together for it not to.”
Deacon linked his hands behind his neck and stared at the streaked floor, considering his friend’s words. As much as he wanted to believe them, he couldn’t help thinking he was too late.
“What about Lindsay?” he asked. A man’s business was his own, but Deacon needed to know. “You said once that she was your Hannah. Ever think about following your own advice?”
Miles shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed. “I waited too long,” he said, and Deacon heard the regret in his voice. “Missed my chance. Too much time’s passed now.”
That’s what I’m afraid of, Deacon thought, glancing out the small window in the door.
The stands were packed. Tickets for the free throw championship and private concert had sold out within hours. A line of media blocked his view of the crowd, but Arabella had assured him Hannah would be out there. She’d come for her new friends, if not for him, but just in case, Deacon had a backup plan.
Hell, he had a backup plan for his backup plan, and if that didn’t work, he had no qualms about camping outside her house until she heard him out. He could be stubborn when he wanted to be, too, and nothing in his life had ever mattered more than Hannah. He wasn’t leaving Charlotte until he’d apologized for hurting her and told her how much he loved her.
After that, he’d ask for forever.
“About that time,” a deep voice bellowed, and when Deacon turned around, he’d have sworn he went back in time.
Tom Mitchell, the winningest basketball coach in Willow Creek history, hadn’t changed one bit. Tufts of white hair stuck out of a faded red WC Tigers ball cap, matching the man’s high-waisted athletic shorts. Sports socks and beat-up Nikes covered his feet.
Tom wrapped his knuckles on a clipboard. “Ready to show my boys how it’s done?”
“You know it, Coach.”
Tom gave his former player an approving nod, then pushed through the swinging door.
Miles and Nate filed out behind him, and Charlie slapped Deacon on the back. “How about making a fool of yourself? You ready for that, too?”
He shoved him off with a reluctant smile. “If it meant getting her back, I’d walk out there naked,” Deacon replied, psyching himself up for what he was about to do. “I’ll do anything for Hannah.”
“Spoken like a true member of the Blue family,” Tyler said with an approving nod, setting his hand on the door. “Now, let’s go get your woman.”
He pushed the door open and Charlie followed, Deacon taking the rear as his friend’s words washed over him. More than ever, he felt like a real part of the band.
Sure, he’d had to grovel with them, too. Apologize for stepping out of bounds and calling the agency, but mostly for sending Hannah away. His actions had hurt everyone. Thankfully he’d gotten good at apologies over the years, and after he admitted how badly he’d screwed up, and how he planned on winning her back, every single one of them had his back. They’d rallied around him and helped him plan what he’d say today.
Even better, he’d finally gotten his extension. Two days ago, Arabella had come up to him with a worried look on her face, wondering why she couldn’t find a contract or amendment that secured his place in the band beyond the tour. Sheepishly, he’d admitted because there wasn’t one. That was all it took. Arabella got on the phone with her dad while Tyler and the guys took turns razzing him for not saying something sooner, and an hour later, he was the new permanent fiddle player slash keyboard player for Blue. It felt good.
It was just as Hannah and Bill had tried telling him: he hadn’t needed to bust his ass to prove himself
to the band; he’d already been in. The only thing missing had been a signature.
Now, he needed his center.
Breaking past the media line, the screams were deafening. Deacon wasn’t sure if it was the acoustics of the gym, or what the room represented personally, but the roar seemed louder than the largest stadium they’d played. Handmade signs with his name filled the stands. The newcomer who hung out in the shadows had a fan club. It was insane.
But as always, only one person’s opinion really mattered.
As Tyler grabbed the microphone, thanking the crowd for coming out, Deacon’s gaze honed in on the second story. Relief made his knees weak. He brushed a finger over his nose and pointed in her direction with a sly wink. She returned the gesture with a small, sweet smile, and pure happiness had him shouting without thinking, “Hannah!”
Tyler paused mid-speech. Turning, he gave Deacon an exasperated look as if to say dude, you’re messing with the plan, and the entire room started buzzing with quiet laughter.
A pretty pink blush bloomed across Hannah’s cheeks, and for a frightening second, Deacon wondered if he’d screwed things up again. Then she raised a hand, twitching her fingers in an amused wave, and he thrust out his hand. “I need the mic.”
Tyler shook his head with a laugh, but handed it over, nudging him on the shoulder as he took a step back and gave Deacon the floor. The rest of the guys fell in line, leaving him front and center.
Every eye in the gym focused on him. This wasn’t a concert. There’d be no hiding in the shadows or losing himself in the music, but with Hannah smiling at him like that, he found it impossible to care.
“Sorry about the interruption folks,” he said, tearing his gaze away from the redhead in the balcony. With a nod at the young men waiting to try their hand at the competition he said, “As a former player, I get how annoying this is. But there’s something I have to say, and a woman who needs to hear it now.”
The Nanny Arrangement (Country Blues) Page 19