Notes of the Heart: Book 2 of the Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series

by Charli B. Rose

  With her assets barely covered, she stormed out of the room.

  He chuckled at her angry exit.

  “You can put your dick away now,” I stormed.

  I snatched his phone from him with the tips of two fingers. Careful not to touch it too much, I wiped it off in the hem of my shirt. I had a good guess of where his hands had been moments ago. A shudder rolled down my spine at the thought.

  I quickly navigated to Izzy’s name in his contacts. Maybe I had remembered her number wrong earlier.

  Please answer, flutterby.

  “We’re sorry. The number you have—”

  I threw the phone at Brooks’s lap. “Hey, watch it, man. I’m sorry about earlier. I’ll buy you a new phone.”

  “Lila already got me a new phone.” I sank down in the rickety wooden chair across from him and buried my face in my hands.

  ♪ Lost by Within Temptation

  She was gone. She was really gone. It had been too much after all. Just like I feared.

  “If you already have a new phone, then why did you need mine?” Brooks, fully dressed now, leaned forward with concern written all over his face.

  “Because I hoped I could reach Izzy from your phone. I prayed that I had remembered her phone number wrong,” I whispered.

  “I still don’t understand,” Brooks said with a frown.

  “Call Izzy. Put the phone on speaker.” He could hear it for himself.

  He did as I asked without further comment.

  “We’re sorry. The number you have reached has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you—”

  Thankfully, he disconnected before the robotic voice could taunt me any further.

  “What the hell? It must be some mistake. I’m sure it’s a glitch or something. Try again later.” Brooks sank back in his seat with a hopeful smile on his face.

  “It’s not a mistake. Hand me your phone.” I held out my hand.

  He dropped his phone in my open palm. Quickly, I typed the necessary words to load the celebrity site I looked at only minutes ago. After it loaded, I handed it back to him. He whistled through his teeth as he scrolled through page after page of lies mixed with tidbits of truth, which all added up to the demise of the only thing that mattered to me.

  “You know Izzy hates attention. Remember how hard it was for her to even display her work at the senior art show before graduation? This kind of attention would totally push her away. I suspected it would. But I hoped with every fiber of my being that I was wrong,” I said as I sadly shook my head, completely defeated.

  “I’m sorry, man. What now?” he whispered as he held out his hand to pull me to my feet.

  “I have no idea.”

  CHAPTER 1

  IZZY

  Two years later…

  ♪ Because of You by Kelly Clarkson

  Staring at myself in the mirror, I took a deep breath and ran my fingers through my short hair. I still hadn’t gotten used to feeling it flow through my fingers again. It was almost to my shoulders. My hands gripped the counter to keep me steady.

  I closed my eyes, trying to keep the tears trapped within their prison. The move was counterproductive though, because the darkness of my closed lids allowed nearly twenty years of memories to stream in live, technicolor. Years of laughter, love, friendship, firsts, tears and heartache. Opening my eyes, I stared at myself in the mirror.

  Deep breaths, Izzy.

  After a few moments of repeating this mantra, I managed to stuff all the memories back into their box where they belonged. Now I needed to add that blue envelope from my mailbox this morning to the box of letters hidden in the back of my closet. Opening it was out of the question. There’d be a whole lot of hurt to unpack if I broke the seal on it, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.

  Not yet.

  Maybe not ever.

  Maybe I should just throw it out. I didn’t need to know what he had to say after all this time. Fingering the pastel blue rectangle of paper with that familiar scrawl, my heart tightened.

  Why now? His timing sucked.

  I held that unopened message over the bathroom trash can. It had some weight to it, like something more than paper was within the padded enclosure. It would make a nice thunk when it hit the metal trash can. A sound of finality.

  Just drop it, Izzy.

  “Isabelle, are you OK in there?” Beckett’s concerned voice sounded on the other side of the door.

  I swiped at the tears that had somehow escaped their jail. “Yeah, just give me a minute.”

  ♪ I’m a Mess by Bebe Rexha

  “OK. I’ll grab your suitcase and take it down to the car if you’re done with it.”

  Deep breath in. Deep breath out. “That’d be great, babe.”

  That bought me about five minutes to pull myself together and stash the blue scrap of pressed tree pulp haunting me from its position in my sticky fingertips.

  Another glance in the mirror showed slightly red-rimmed eyes and shimmering tracks down both cheeks. After mopping them away with a grey hand towel, I straightened my spine and marched to my closet. Standing on the step stool, I reached for the box in the back, right corner. It had been a while since it’d seen the light of day. Prying the lid off quickly, I peeked inside to take in the stack of colored envelopes, photographs, childish drawings, CDs and a dozen other mementos. Before I gave in to the urge to run my finger along the seal where his lips and tongue were at some point, I tossed it onto the top of the stack and closed the lid. I was like Pandora tempting fate with a box of hurt and pain and darkness. But unlike Pandora’s box, there was no hope lying in the bottom of mine. Only more emptiness.

  When the front door shut, I scrambled to stash the box back in its dark hiding spot, then hurried to the living room. I swiped my sweaty palms on the back of my pants before I rounded the corner.

  Beckett stood in the middle of the living room, watching me carefully. He lifted a brow at me in question but didn’t comment on the evidence of my crying stint. Instead, he strode forward and enveloped me in his warm embrace. Pressing my head against his chest, I relished the sound of his heart beating reassuringly beneath my ear and tried not to think of how I would fit better if he was closer to my height. A perfect hug would be my head tucked beneath his chin. Just like…

  Stop it, Izzy.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  I nodded, not trusting my voice to not betray me with the thick emotion lodged within my throat.

  He pressed a kiss to the top of my head, then released his hold on me. After he tucked me safely into his car, we set off on the two-hour drive to my hometown. The only good thing about going home for the weekend was that I wouldn’t be able to give in to the temptation to lose my heart in the contents of a cerulean package.

  Leaning my head against the window, I said, “Stay on Highway 1 until you get to Westgate. Then wake me up, and I’ll give you directions the rest of the way.” Riding had always made me sleepy, which was a good thing since I got carsick if the ride was longer than an hour… well, except those hours spent riding on a tour bus.

  ♪ Home by Daughtry

  “WAKE UP, SLEEPY HEAD.”

  Soft fingers squeezed my thigh as I roused. Blinking rapidly, my eyes focused on the setting beyond the windshield. The familiar sights of home came into focus. I hadn’t laid eyes on my hometown in nearly two years. It had hurt too much the last time I was here. If I’d had my way, we wouldn’t be driving there now. But my parents were unable to come to me at the moment, and Beckett had insisted on taking his weekend off to see where I grew up.

  I directed him to our quiet street. The trees were somehow larger, yet smaller than they were when I was a little girl. It was funny how perspective changed with age and distance. Sounded like the beginnings of a song. There was a time in my life when I’d have jotted down the idea to share with the one person I knew who could spin anything into a pretty song full of meaning. I shook the pesky thought away.

  We parked in f
ront of my childhood home, still the same bluish-grey it had always been, with dark blue shutters. I drew in a deep breath as Beckett came around to open my door. He’d grabbed our bags before coming to help me. We strode up the front walk in silence, just taking in all the details of the place that used to be home. My mom’s rosebushes still bracketed the front porch steps. They were bare, waiting for the sun to resurrect them and add color back to their lives. I identified with their plight.

  The wooden fence still blocked the view of the backyard. Everything was still the same. Except me.

  I looked up at Beckett. He looked nervous for the first time ever. I gave his hand a squeeze. “You ready to go in?” I asked.

  “Well, it’s not like this is the first time I’ll meet your parents. It’s ju… just …” he stammered.

  “Different now,” I finished for him with a slight smile.

  He nodded.

  “They’ll love you. You did save my life after all,” I teased.

  I rang the doorbell.

  Within minutes, the door opened, and my mom greeted us through the screen.

  “Isabelle, what on Earth are you doing ringing the doorbell?”

  She pushed open the screen and bid us inside. As soon as I stepped over the threshold, she pulled me into her arms. Being wrapped in her hug brought tears to my eyes instantly. She smelled and felt like comfort, safety and home. Quietly, I sniffled and stepped back.

  “Hi, Mom. It’s good to see you too. Where’s Daddy?” I gave her a wavering smile.

  “In the den. Come on.” She led the way down the hall towards the back of the house.

  “Daddy,” I greeted when we stepped into the room. It was still the same. Old leather recliner. Khaki colored sofa. Brick fireplace. Mantle filled with family photos. Knick knacks on the end table. Daddy was still the same too—jeans and flannel.

  “Sweetpea, I’ve missed you,” he said as he threw his arms around me.

  “I’ve missed you too, Daddy.”

  When we stepped apart, he held his hand out to Beckett. “Dr. Thomas, it’s so good to see you again.”

  “None of that doctor stuff, Mr. Clark. I’m not here as Izzy’s doctor, so how about just Beckett?”

  “Well, Beckett, I can do that if you’ll call me Andrew.” Dad grinned at him.

  “And call me Susan,” Mom spoke up from my side.

  “Andrew, Susan, it’s so nice to meet you under these circumstances.” The smile on Beckett’s lips lit up his whole face and made his eyes sparkle. He really was handsome.

  “Yes, it is. Much better than the first time we met you for sure,” Mom agreed.

  “We can never thank you enough for saving our baby girl’s life,” Dad gushed.

  “Spending time with her and getting to know her has been thanks enough. Believe me, you have an amazing daughter.” Beckett looked adoringly at me.

  “Right here, guys,” I said, blushing.

  “Come with me, Beckett. I’ll show you to the guest room,” Mom offered. “Sweetie, I changed the sheets in your room, so you can go put your stuff in there.”

  Beckett shot me a look over the top of Mom’s head as he handed over my bag. I shrugged one shoulder at him. My parents were a bit old-fashioned. No guy had ever spent the night in my room. Except for Dawson.

  I let Mom get Beckett settled in the guest room while I opened the door to the past. My breath caught in my throat as my eyes roamed over a room that hadn’t changed a bit since my high school years. I shut the door quietly behind me to keep everything contained within the space of these four walls. The hot pink bedspread my parents gave me for my fourteenth birthday still covered the four-poster canopy bed. The shimmery pink fabric that created the covering was tied at each post. One of my sketchbooks still lay open on my desk, my last project unfinished. Various butterfly drawings and paintings adorned the wall. And to my left was the wall of photos. I quickly averted my eyes, unable to take that trip down memory lane. Dropping my bag on the hope chest at the foot of my bed, I fell onto the mattress and hugged Mr. Fluffy, the stuffed dog Dawson had given me when we were seven.

  Though I tried to resist, my gaze wandered to the large bay window. The tree between our houses had gotten bigger, but the branch still stretched from my window to his; a physical bridge between the two hearts that used to occupy the rooms on either side.

  Tears blurred my vision before I rapidly blinked them away. I wasn’t sure how I’d sleep in this room surrounded by all the memories and wishes of what could’ve been, all the while subconsciously listening for the quiet tap on my window. Maybe after Mom and Dad went to bed, I’d sneak into the guest room. At least the memories wouldn’t blanket me as heavily in there.

  ♪ Lost by Red

  Jumping up from the bed, I rushed to the door and threw it open, startling Beckett, who was examining the wall of framed photos in the hallway. A look of awe filled his features.

  “Isabelle, is this guy with the guitar really Dawson Anderson?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “You know Dawson Anderson?” Wonder filled his voice. I’d heard that tone many times before over the years when people learned of my connection to Dawson.

  “We grew up together. He’s my… was my best friend.”

  He slowly perused the images on the wall. They were all of me and Dawson over the years.

  ♪ Photograph by Nickelback

  “Is he the little boy in these pictures?” He pointed to one of Dawson pushing me in the swing, the laughter on my lips haunting the air in the hallway.

  I swallowed hard. “He’s the boy in every picture.”

  I’d wondered after Dawson broke my heart, why my parents kept all the photos of him adorning the walls of their home. When I asked Mom about it the first time I came home after everything fell apart—the only time I came home after things ended—she told me when she looked for replacement pictures to hang, she discovered there were no photos of me alone other than a couple of dance recital images and school portraits. Dawson had been so engrained in every moment of my life, from the monumental to the inconsequential, there were no moments free from him.

  Beckett’s gushing yanked me back to a present I wished I could escape. “Wow. Why didn’t you tell me you were friends with Dawson Anderson? You know LO is my favorite band. Oh my god, do you think you could introduce me?” He turned to me excitedly, hope shining on his face.

  An awkward chuckle escaped. “I never figured you for a full-on fanboy,” I teased.

  He hunched his shoulders up sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m sure that’s why you don’t tell people you know him. People would want you to introduce them.”

  Shaking my head, I said, “Come on, let’s go downstairs.” I tugged on his arm, trying to pry him away from the wall of my life.

  “Are you the Izzy he dedicates every album to?”

  “Yeah,” I whispered. The fracture in my heart grew a little more.

  CHAPTER 2

  DAWSON

  ♪ Rockstar by Nickelback

  “G reat show, guys,” Lila said as we ran off stage, the sound of fans chanting our name still echoing in my ears. Lo. Lo. Lo. Lo. The ground vibrated with their stomping feet.

  We’d already done our encore. No amount of shouting would bring us back. We’d already played past the town’s curfew anyway and would have to pay the fine, a small price to pay to make the last show of the tour the most memorable one.

  The guys rushed past me, eager to get to our last after-party of this tour. I slumped against the wall and soaked everything in. Enjoying the lingering high of pouring myself out on stage, I closed my eyes.

  Adrenaline surged through my veins as I chugged the bottle of water one of the stagehands tossed me on the way to start tearing down our equipment. I knew the high would fade within the hour, but I was desperate to hold it for just a bit longer. Proximity to the stage helped me cling to it.

  This was our last show for a while. We’d be going a new direction after a couple of well-d
eserved months off. Our future success was uncertain. In the meantime, I wasn’t sure how I’d survive without the thrill of performing. Standing under the lights and singing for thousands of adoring fans was the only bright spot in my life at the moment… well, other than writing. Actually, attempting to write. But the writing wasn’t always bright since my emotions bled out onto the page. Not to mention, I’d yet to write a complete song in well over a year. And it sucked.

  Things didn’t used to be this way. I used to be a happy guy, loving almost everything about my life, my music and my girl. That was two years ago.

  Ever since she walked away without a word or even a backward glance, my life had grown dark.

  Thankfully, it wasn’t as dark as it had been. But I feared I’d venture into those dark corners without the high of performing to break up the melancholy. Time would tell.

  “Hey, Daw,” Lila called from the end of the hall. I looked up, and my heart caught in my throat. Next to Lila was a girl with long, honey-colored hair. Blue tips.

  What was she doing here?

  My heart raced for a few seconds, then crashed when the girl looked up, meeting my gaze with excitement on her face. Emerald eyes didn’t meet mine.

  It wasn’t her. I should’ve known she wouldn’t be halfway around the world. That would take too much effort.

  When an ocean separated us, she found out how hard it was to be with a famous musician. I didn’t blame her. Sometimes even I didn’t want to live my life. There were parts that really sucked. I just wished she hadn’t taken my heart with her when she left. If only we weren’t separated by an ocean, two years, my fame and our heartbreak…

  “Earth to Dawson,” Lila called, her voice grating on my nerves.

  I shook myself out of my own thoughts.

  “Jasmine here is your number one fan.” Lila pressed the fan forward.

  I wasn’t in the mood to party. But I was in the mood to forget for just another few minutes. At least try to forget. Forcing a smile to my lips, I sauntered over to them.