“But you’re good at it,” she says.
I smile at that. “How do you know?”
“I saw the back piece you did for Jax. It’s amazing.” She takes a bite of her halibut and another sip of wine.
Good. She’s eating again. And for once I was able to talk about Elsa without feeling as if I’d been sucker punched. I stare at her. What is it about this girl?
She catches my eye and raises one eyebrow. “What?”
I shake my head and let out a low chuckle. “You know, I have absolutely no idea.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Lucy
The night Seth brought dinner to my house marked a change in our relationship. We went from two strangers who couldn’t keep their hands off each other to two people who were rapidly becoming close friends. It was more than confusing because we were still wildly attracted to each other, but we both knew it couldn’t last. Not with the uncertainty of my future hanging over our heads.
Still, Seth and I spent the next three nights together. It’s surprisingly easy when we’re just hanging out and amazing when we’re in bed together. Not to mention he seems to be able to make me laugh when no one else can.
On Friday morning I wake to the sound of light rustling. Or is that scratching? I pop one eye open, and the first thing I notice is Seth is gone from my bed. I open my other eye and my gaze follows the sound.
Seth is sitting in my bedside chair, smiling at me. He has a pencil in his hand and is studying me while he sketches.
Joy fills my heart. The mere fact that he feels comfortable enough to work in front of me, heck, to draw me, is overwhelming. “Morning,” I say shyly.
“Morning.” He’s focused, his eyes darting back and forth from me to his sketchpad.
I lie there, waiting for him to finish, wishing we could stay in this moment forever. I like being his muse, love sharing his passion with him, if only by being his subject.
“What’s that look?” he asks, his brows pinched in concentration.
“Look?”
“The one you were just giving me. Your mood changed, but I’m not sure to what.”
“Oh.” I sit up, pulling the sheet with me to cover my chest. Then I stop. “Is this okay?”
He laughs. “Of course. I’ve got what I need.” He continues to work on the sketch, though, shading and smudging his lines. “Now, what were you thinking about?”
“You.” I wave at him and me. “This. The fact that you’re drawing here. It makes me feel… special, I guess. I get the feeling you don’t work much in front of other people unless it’s for tattoos.”
He pauses and then nods. “That’s true. Elsa…” He closes his eyes and takes a breath. When he opens them he gives me a sad smile. “Elsa is the one who got me started drawing, you know. I always associate it with her. Or always had, but lately, it’s different. It’s something I’m compelled to do, and while she’s always with me, it’s nothing like it was before.”
“It fulfills you,” I say.
“Yes. But it did then, too.”
“Sure. But it’s not the same, is it? I mean, when I sing with Cadan, there’s magic there. It feels so right. Like a calling or something.”
He purses his lips together and slowly nods. “Yeah. It was like that with E.”
“And now? I bet it’s more personal. Like it’s something you do just for you because it gives you joy, but not in a mystical sense. Cosmic forces have nothing to do with it. Right?”
Again, the slow nod.
“That’s how it is for me with the singing and songwriting. I pull something from deep inside that really only has meaning to me. It’s a true expression of myself—not shared with anyone.” I sit up straighter. “It’s great when someone else gets something out of it, like when an audience is really enjoying themselves, but it’s just different. It’s for me first. Not them. And I know that sounds selfish.”
“No, it doesn’t,” he says and puts down the sketchpad. “It’s the truth. And it’s pure.”
“I don’t know about that.” I laugh. “I don’t see myself as pure.”
His gaze dips to my barely covered chest and he grins.
“Hey, we’re talking here,” I say with a chuckle.
“Right.” His desire-filled gaze locks on mine. “You were saying?”
I swallow and force myself to not yank him back onto the bed. “Just that when we offer our art without that soul-mate connection, we consciously give something of ourselves without it being pulled from us. I’m not saying our soul-mate gifts aren’t pure or less worthy. Just different. Like when I sing with Cadan, the effect is what the audience needs or wants. But when I sing by myself, it’s an extension of what’s going on inside me. Weren’t the paintings you did with Elsa similar?”
He stands and rubs his stubbled jaw. “Yeah. Sometimes. Our commissions were, for sure. And paintings we were compelled to paint but didn’t know why. They always had more meaning to the final owner than they did to us. The stuff I do now… yeah. It’s an artistic expression that is only mine. I hadn’t thought of it that way before.”
“Does that make you feel sad? Like you’re letting anyone down?”
He sits on the bed next to me. “No. But it’s different for me. I don’t have a choice anymore, do I? Is that what you think?”
“Sometimes.” I let my head fall back against my headboard. “Is it okay for me to walk away, knowing how much joy people get from our songs? Or knowing how deeply touched people can be?”
“Yes,” Seth says with conviction. “It’s not fair for you to sacrifice your own well-being and sanity just so a bunch of strangers can experience the magic for a couple of hours during a concert. The weight of the world is not on your shoulders, Luce.”
“I know.” I close my eyes and see an entire hospital ward of sick children, their sweet expressions shining back at me. Those are the ones I ache for.
“Come on.” He wraps his hand around mine. “I think it’s time for breakfast.”
“Shower first,” I say.
His grin is back. “Even better.”
***
We’re emerging from the shower together when the house phone starts to ring.
Seth wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me back against his chest. His lips brush over the nape of my neck and he murmurs, “Let the machine get it. I think I’m going to keep you locked away in your bed all day.”
A tingle runs from the base of my neck down to my center. “Excellent idea.”
But then the old recorder beeps, and my lawyer’s voice floats up from downstairs. “Lucy, I’m sorry to call you on Christmas Eve, but the label is getting antsy. They’re demanding you return to the studio by January second. If you don’t, they’ll definitely move forward with the lawsuit.” His voice goes soft and truly apologetic. “I’m sorry it’s come to this. Give me a call and let me know what you decide.”
A chill runs through my body, and I start to tremble despite Seth’s arms wrapped around me. I’m going to have to give him up.
“Shit,” he says and lets me go. A second later he wraps my fuzzy robe around my shoulders. “Are you all right?”
Shaking my head, I push my arms into the robe and cinch it tight.
“Luce?”
I glance up at Seth. He’s already stepped into his jeans and his green eyes are filled with worry.
“What can I do?”
“I…” Oh my God. What am I going to do? I have no choice. If they sue me, I’ll lose Dad’s house. They won’t just sue me for the advance; they’ll sue for loss of income. My life will be in shambles. Angry tears spring to the surface, and I slam my hand against the bathroom door. “Those bastards!”
Seth doesn’t move. He doesn’t try to calm me or comfort me. He seems to know that’s the last thing I want right now.
I turn to him, frustration making me shake. “I have to go back.” I’d known this all along, but it’s finally starting to sink in. I’m truly trapped.
He takes a small step forward, a haunted but determined look on his face. Slowly he raises his arm and holds his hand out to me.
I take it, and though the solid weight of his hand in mine is welcome, it only makes me feel worse. Once I go back, there will be no more Seth. I’ll be sucked back into Cadan’s world no matter how hard I try to stay away from him.
“For how long?” he asks.
“I don’t know. Six months to two years. It depends on how long it takes to record the new album, and then there will be the tour. The more successful the record is, the longer it will be.” A pit forms in the depths of my stomach. I’m not quite sure whether it’s the dread of going back to a life I now know I don’t want or the fact I’ll be leaving this man who has become more than a lover. Somehow in the last week he’s become just about the only person who helps me feel normal.
He pulls me into his arms and tucks my head against his chest. “If they sue, what do you stand to lose? Is it worth hanging on to?”
A sob clogs my throat as I pull away. Waving a hand around the room, I gesture to the house.
Recognition dawns in his expression. We’re both silent, then he says, “Let’s get breakfast.”
“I’m not really hungry.”
“I know, Luce.” He gives me an ironic smile. “Humor me anyway.”
I nod. “Let me get dressed and I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
Seth shifts forward and tips my face up so I have to meet his intense gaze. Then he leans down and kisses me, tenderly at first, but then our joining turns heated, desperate. It’s almost as if he’s saying good-bye already. I cling to him, wanting to get lost in everything he has to offer. But then reality slams into me, and I know I have to let go. In less than two weeks I’ll be back in LA with Cadan, working on the album, and Seth won’t be there to save me.
I pull myself from his embrace and cross my arms over my chest. “Go on down. I’ll be there in a minute.”
He gives me a long look. Then he pulls his T-shirt over his head and disappears down the stairs.
My hands are shaking. I close my eyes and sink down onto the bed, clasping them together. My life since leaving Cadan has been so normal. Lonely at times. And certainly there’d been a piece of me missing, that part of me that comes alive while singing. But that seemed to come back while singing with the band last week. It turns out I don’t need Cadan to find joy on the stage. It’s different, not as intense or emotional. But damn it’s fun.
I could live life finding meaning in less intense ways. If only Cadan hadn’t signed that damned publishing contract. If my songs and Dad’s house weren’t on the line, I’d walk and let them do their worst. But they are and I can’t let them go. Those two things are all I have.
With a deep breath, I finish getting dressed, stuff my feet into a pair of fur-lined boots, and make my way downstairs. “Hey. What’s cookin’?” I peek over Seth’s shoulder and grin. “Waffles?”
“And bacon.”
“Good gracious. I’m keeping you.”
He hands me a steaming cup of coffee and his lips quirk into a smile. “That’s the plan.”
I laugh at the absurdity of our conversation and add, “I can stick you in my suitcase.”
“Really? Smuggling? Wouldn’t it be easier if I bought my own plane ticket?”
I hold my cup up in a mock toast. “Touché.”
The waffle-iron light goes off, and Seth busies himself with removing a golden waffle and starting another one. He opens the oven and the entire kitchen fills with maple-bacon scent.
“Damn, Seth. I’m drooling over here,” I say from my seat at the kitchen bar.
“Again, that was the plan.” He sets a plate in front of me along with butter and real maple syrup. “I would, you know.”
I tear into a piece of bacon, and after swallowing, I ask, “Would what?”
“Go with you if you wanted.”
Startled, I suck in a piece of bacon and start to choke.
He pounds on my back, clearly holding back laughter.
My eyes water as I get myself under control. I clear my throat. “What?”
“If it would make it easier for you, I’d come visit you while you’re recording.”
Panic snakes its way into my core, settling like a stone in my gut. “You want to come with me?” I can’t deny I want him to do just that. Though he and Cadan within a thousand feet of each other sounds like a nightmare.
“Not the entire time.” He laughs. “Just when you need a break. Or a really great distraction.”
I laugh with him. “Is that all you guys think about?”
“Yes,” he says solemnly and then narrows his eyes with suspicion. “It seems you’ve been thinking about it a lot lately as well.”
My laugh turns to a giggle. “True. I’m not immune to your considerable charms.”
He chews on his own piece of bacon, nodding. After swallowing, he answers, “That’s fairly obvious.” His eyes sparkle, and I make a conscious effort to remember this fun, easy moment. He doesn’t really expect anything from me, just as I don’t expect anything from him. It’s fun to tease each other, though. Damn the future. We have right now.
As we’re finishing off the waffles, the phone rings again. I groan. “That ring is never a good sign.”
“Your mom?” Seth asks. Besides my lawyer this morning, she’d been the only one to call on the house phone since Seth had started hanging out with me the last few days.
I make a face and answer it.
“Lucy,” Mom says by way of greeting.
“Hi, Mom.” I make a conscious effort to keep the irritation out of my voice. I’ll be seeing her in six hours. What could she possibly want that couldn’t wait?
“Good, I caught you.” There’s a clinking sound as if she’s preparing herself an iced drink. “Make sure you leave early enough to beat the traffic. And when you get to town, I need you to stop at the store and pick up a prescription for your father. They close at two today, so don’t be late.”
I tense, white-hot anger rushing to my head. “Randy is not my father.”
“Luuuucy…” Mom drags out my name in exasperation. “Why do you always have to be difficult? Randy is part of this family. It’s time you started treating him that way.”
I say nothing, fearing my next words will start World War III. The silence stretches between us until finally Mom says, “It’s Christmas Eve. Try to be on your best behavior.”
The line goes dead. I set the cordless carefully back on the receiver and stand in the kitchen, my head bowed, trying to contain the rage consuming me.
Seth runs a light hand down my arm. When he gets to my fingers, he squeezes lightly and then moves to the sink and proceeds to do the dishes.
When the urge to scream fades, I move to Seth’s side and start drying the dishes he’s placed on a towel next to the sink.
“Tell me about him,” he says in a soothing tone.
I huff out a disgusted laugh. “He’s a controlling ass.”
Seth shuts the water off and turns to me. “No. I meant your dad. Not your mother’s husband.”
“Oh.” Thinking about Dad calms me and fills me with a sense of home. I move to the French doors and wave at the ocean. “Dad said life was like the vast ocean. Turbulent, beautiful, calming, devastating. And he said to truly live, one needed all those things.”
Seth, still standing in the kitchen, leans across the bar, balancing on his elbows. “I’d say you’re living life to his terms.”
This time my laugh is real. “Everything except the calming part.”
“I thought that’s what we’re doing together.”
I turn to scoff at his assessmen
t, but then stop. Outside the bedroom, that’s exactly what we’re doing. At least he calms me. I’m not sure how I affect him, but he seems happy enough to just hang out with me. “Could be.”
“What else? Tell me what life was like living with him.” He gazes at me intently, so interested. It’s not something I’m used to, and I find I have to look away to get my bearings.
“Well…” I stall, letting my memories flood back. I feel my lips crack into a small smile. “Dad was a gentle giant. Tall and foreboding to those who didn’t know him, but a giant teddy bear to those who did. He was quick with a kind word, the first to offer support even if he didn’t agree with my choices, which for a while there was often. And he wasn’t afraid to tell me when he thought I had my head up my ass.”
Seth chuckles. “Sounds like someone I’d be friends with.”
I eye him, taking in his ink. “He would’ve hated your tattoos. Though he wouldn’t have held them against you.”
“That’s good to know.” Seth moves from behind the counter, takes my hand, and pulls me to the couch. We sit side by side, our knees touching. “What would he say about the choice you’re facing now?”
I lie back against the couch cushions and blow out a breath. “I don’t know, Seth. I really don’t. He’d hate what Cadan has done and likely would threaten to hunt him down and beat the crap out of him. He wouldn’t, but he’d really want to. What I do know is he’d support whatever decision I make.”
Seth leans back, mimicking the way I’m sprawled out. “Even if it meant losing this place?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “He always said home is where you hang your hat. If he had to give up this place to keep me from drowning in Cadan’s crap, I believe he would. The problem is, I won’t give it up. Not ever.”
“I understand.” His tone is so low I barely hear his words.
I know he’s talking about his place with Elsa even though he hardly ever stays there. I still can’t believe he said her name. Jax said he hasn’t referred to her by anything other than E since the accident. Did it mean anything? Or was E a term he only used with friends? Either way, I’m grateful he opened up to me about her. I squeeze his hand.
Rockers After Dark: 6 Book Bundle of Sexy Musicians Page 18