Snowflakes and Holly

by Jae Dawson

  She lowered her phone and narrowed her eyes at the intern. “What are you doing? He’s done. Give the sexy man his coffee.” The girl rushed over and quickly handed me the Starbucks cup then scurried back into Kenzie’s shadow. “Sent a vid of you singing to Corinth,” Kenzie continued. “This will be the album’s title single. We’ll move Underground Rain. I can work PR magic with that sinfully delicious song pre-launch.” Her phone vibrated and Kenzie grinned. “You made the execs very happy.” She marched toward the door and, while exiting, sang out, “Be in the recording studio first thing Monday morning!”

  The door closed and our shoulders slump and bodies deflated.

  “Hot damn.” Andy let out a soft huff. “The normie can stay.”

  The door swung open and we jumped to attention. A flirtatious smile curved Kenzie’s dark-red lip. “And darlings,” she sang out again, “I just found out Beveled Light is joining you tomorrow. Don’t screw this up.” The door shut behind her again in a blur of blonde hair and hot pink heels.

  Bale grinned. “Nice.”

  “Nice?” Andy threw back at him. “Nice? This is fucking unreal! We’ve been trying to get onto a tour schedule with them for years. If we wow them . . . this could be very good news.”

  I closed my eyes as my stomach churned wildly. My anxiety had reached a whole new feral level. How the hell was I supposed to get out of this now?

  Dev pulled out his phone and strode toward the door. “I’ll be back.”

  I watched him leave, then took a sip of my coffee. Looking at anything but my two other bandmates.

  “You okay?” Bale asked me.

  I swallowed. “No.”

  “Does this lovesick look have to do with a high school teacher and a banana?” Andy asked.

  “I messed up.”

  “Which part?” Andy’s mouth tilted up. “The teacher or the banana?”

  “Shit, Quinn, let the banana go,” Bale said.

  “But I have so many questions.”

  “The teacher,” I answered. “And Gramps. But mostly the teacher.”

  Bale nodded thoughtfully.

  I drew in a shaky breath. “I shouldn’t be here. I owe you guys this gig and I’m fully committed. I just . . .”

  “Need to be there,” Bale finished for me.

  I offered him a soft smile. “Yeah.”

  “Then what are you doing here?” Andy asked. “You know we’d cover for you. Take care of your shit, man.”

  I swallowed again. “I’m already here. No time to find a backup.”

  Devon marched back into the studio, a huge grin on his face. “You’re a free man, Cade Owens. Kaylen Carlee is on vocals and Rob Gunther is on lead guitar.”

  “Beveled Light is playing Burning Umbrage?” Andy asked, his mouth falling open.

  “Yup.” Dev’s grin grew wider. “They’ll be here in forty.”

  Andy was still dumbstruck. “How?”

  “I called Corinth for their number. Then called BL’s manager and asked.”

  “Just like that?”

  Devon shrugged. “Just like that.”

  Bale pushed off the wall, in his own trance. “This is good. Maybe their manager can rec us a new one, too.”

  “Dev . . .” The words failed to form. Once again, Devon Hargraves rescued me. He could make a thousand banana jokes and I’d forgive him.

  “Get your ass moving, lover boy!” Dev shoved my backside toward the door with his boot. “Hurry before Kenzie catches scent.”

  That was all the encouragement I needed.

  “I’ll be back early Monday morning to record.”

  “Go!” Andy threw his drumstick at me and I ducked out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Bella

  I stood before the mirror, lost for words. It was my pre-show tradition dating all the way back to my high school days. Get ready, and when everything on the outside was perfect, I’d stand before the mirror and try to get my insides right.

  Deep, calming breaths. A pep talk to rule all pep talks. Affirmations of my talent, awesomeness, and general badassery. By the time I left the mirror, I would be as fired up as Tony Robbins running on stage for a show.

  Not tonight. My makeup was flawless, my hair tied up into a pony, to keep it out of my way, and I was wearing my most flattering and comfortable 1950s style black shirtwaist dress with my practical oxfords. I didn’t mean to look a part in the play. But this was my look, anyway.

  The students had also prepared as best they could. Everything was ready.

  But I couldn’t shake this sour feeling in my stomach. I couldn’t banish the ache in my heart. I knew, objectively, I was awesome and talented and badass, Cade or no Cade. But I didn’t feel it. There was only weariness, and a fog of regret that I feared to even wade into. Could I have done things differently? Would it have changed anything, if I had asked him to stay rather than push him farther away? Could I have lived with myself? What was more important, my principles, or my heart?

  Couldn’t I have both? I heaved a deep sigh. If this thing between Cade was right, I wouldn’t have to compromise my core values.

  I wrapped myself in my purple peacoat and made my way toward town. A wistful smile played across my face as I inched up the road. The sidewalks were brimming with families out for trick-or-treating—gamboling little witches in tipping pointy hats, superheroes with foam muscles, and twirling Disney princesses.

  I pulled in a deep breath, fighting against the band of grief tightening around my lungs. I wanted to be out there someday, with an easy smile on my face and a spiked hot cider in my to-go mug, my fingers threaded through the hands of my beloved. Cade.

  The band tightened and I gasped at the spark of realization. In all my visions of the future, he was the one I saw. It wasn’t just attraction or flirting or a distraction. I loved Cade. I loved his flirty, witty humor. I loved how deep and hard he cared about everything around him. I loved his rascally laugh and the way he smirked when stoking my fire. God, he loved to piss me off. I loved Bob and Gramps and how he missed his Gran. I loved Cade.

  And I had lost him.

  I punched on the radio. I couldn’t fall apart right now. I had to hold it together until after the musical. A familiar set of chords came over the speakers and, with a warbled shriek, I spun the dial before his dulcet voice flooded my ears. He was everywhere. I landed on the heavy rock station and let the screeching sound of Metallica drown out everything else. I settled back in my seat and blew out a breath. This would work. I couldn’t handle anything soft or sappy right now.

  By the time I pulled into my parking spot at school, I had gathered my wits about me. I walked into the auditorium, only to be rushed by Paloma, Amie, and Brittany.

  “Ms. Pagano!” Paloma squealed.

  My eyes widened in alarm. “Yes, Paloma, what is it?”

  She shoved her phone in my face, and it took me a moment to focus on it. “What’s this?”

  “Look at Cade’s post!” Amie gushed.

  It was an Instagram post. The image was an artsy black and white of Cade’s devastating profile, gazing out a plane window into a distant skyline. I had to suppress an eyeroll. Get over yourself, hot shot.

  “Yes, we all know what Cade looks like. Now we need to get ready.”

  “Read it Ms. Pagano!” Brittany pointed, her brown eyes wide.

  I sighed and read out loud. “I’m not much of an inspirational quote man, but here’s one that resonates. ‘Easy decisions, hard life. Hard decisions, easy life.’ -Jerzy Gregorek. I’ve been making the easy decisions for too long. It’s time I made a hard one. There’s only one place for me tonight. My hometown, at Hartwood High’s Fall musical production of Little Shop of Horrors, supporting some of the hardest working students I’ve ever met and one teacher with the determination and vision of ten people.”

  I swallowed thickly as I kept reading. Had he seriously posted this? Was I dreaming?

  “Arts education is in danger all around the country, a
nd especially in Hartwood Falls. Help me fight for our educational programs by sharing your story about how the arts impacted your life, your family, and your community.”

  I looked up in amazement to find the three girls bouncing with surmounting fangirl energy. “Look at all the comments! We’re going to be famous!”

  I scrolled down. There were thousands. Hundreds of thousands. Could this really make a difference? Was Cade really coming here? A flock of butterflies flitted about in my stomach. What about his HBO special? The band?

  I handed Paloma her phone. “That was really wonderful of Cade. He’s right. You all have worked incredibly hard. But we can’t think about him or this right now, okay? I need you all in costumes and makeup and focusing on the show. There will be plenty of time to be Insta-famous after the curtain falls.”

  The three girls darted backstage, leaving me alone. My body vibrated like a Fourth of July fireworks show. I couldn’t resist the siren song of social media—I pulled my own phone out and soaked in that image of Cade. I couldn’t get my hopes up. I didn’t know what this meant. Maybe he was doing the right thing for the students. For the school district. It didn’t mean he was coming back for me. But despite the walls I was trying desperately to keep up, I couldn’t help but soak in his words: supporting one teacher with the determination and vision of ten people.

  Was that really how he saw me?

  Please little seed, I found myself praying, make me a Halloween miracle.

  The chaos and bustle of the minutes before curtain banished all thoughts of Cade from my head. There were unraveled costumes to safety-pin, nerves to soothe, final words of wisdom to dole out.

  It was ten minutes to curtain when Jeremy slunk in, his hands shoved in his pockets and his head hung low.

  “Head back to the booth.” I pointed. “Charlie has everything warmed up, but you can take it from there.”

  Jeremy looked up, cautious, a small muscle ticking in his jaw. “Yeah? I wasn’t sure, since . . .” he trailed off.

  “Since you bailed on dress rehearsal and left us hanging?”

  He looked away, his jaw hardening even more.

  “Jeremy, we all have moments where we want to quit. But you were here every other day, and you’re here now. You’ve impressed me with your work ethic and your skill. You deserve to be back there. And we need you.”

  You would have thought I had just gifted the kid a brand new car. His eyes met mine and all walls were down. The gratitude shone bright. Maybe Cade was right. Maybe all he needed was someone to give a shit about him. After a single nod and a soft smile, he jumped off the stage and ran to the booth. A little laugh escaped me. There were few things more rewarding than uncovering some genuine enthusiasm beneath all that teen angst.

  It seemed like I barely had time to blink before the music was swelling and the curtain was rising. The house was absolutely packed—not an empty seat in the place. Maybe Cade was out there amongst that sea of faces.

  But I couldn’t think about that right now. It was go time.

  It was like we’d worked out every possible kink in dress rehearsal. Things flowed seamlessly from one number to another—the students hitting their lines, their notes, their beats. The audience was laughing and applauding—wolf-whistling as Paloma strutted on stage, booing when Audrey II devoured its victims. They were into it. My cheeks hurt from smiling. It had all come together.

  Suddenly, Seymour was on next, and Marcus and Paloma met on stage, singing their hearts out in the first and second verse. But when the chorus began, a deafening roar from the crowd swallowed the vocals. What the hell?

  I froze. Cade was strutting onto the stage—replacing Marcus! What was he doing? Cade’s sultry baritone could barely be heard over the excited noise of the crowd, as he serenaded Paloma.

  I blinked. This couldn’t be real.

  Marcus appeared before me—pulling me from my stupor—and grabbed my hands. Then tugged me toward the stage. “Come on!”

  “What are you doing?” I hissed.

  “Just go with it, Ms. Pagano!” His face was bright. “This is your song!”

  And then he shoved me onto the stage, under the bright spotlight.

  Paloma darted behind me, her hand between my shoulder-blades, and pushed me toward Cade.

  I was like a deer in the headlights. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t real. But the crowd was cheering, and Cade was crooning Seymour’s part while striding toward me, a black shirt tight against his frame, blond hair boyishly falling over blue eyes deep enough to drown in, and that grin. That shit-eating, up-to-no-good grin.

  He took my hands and towed me into the center of the stage, and with that simple touch, my shock was broken. He was here, he was real, and he was totally crazy for pulling a stunt like this. I was going to murder his arrogant ass for surprising me. After I kissed him senseless. I was now poised, ready to fight. My chin lifted, a firm hand on my hip. A posture he appreciated, turning his grin into something devilishly sexy.

  That smile. Dammit!

  I was on the brink of grabbing him by the belt loops and dragging him backstage to taste his lips on mine once more.

  But it was Audrey’s line next and the show must go on.

  Some part of me registered Paloma and Marcus and the rest of the students clustered together in excited anticipation on the side-stage—and a hundred cell phone cameras pointed our way. But none of it mattered. In that moment, it was only Cade and me.

  So, I opened my mouth and sang.

  As my first notes floated over the auditorium, the crowd went wild and a smile broke across his face. One that shattered every makeshift wall I’d tried to build around my heart.

  My students cheered as Cade and I chased each other around the stage, the harmony of our voices blending together, and my heart soared. This proud, talented man was singing with me at a high school musical—not caring that this goofy duet would be viral in seconds.

  The music was swelling to an end. Cade wrapped me in his arms, locking me against the length of his body. My hands rested on his firm chest, my eyes tracing every rugged line of his face. Traces of moonlight, rain, and fall leaves filled my senses. I wanted to breathe him in, to kiss him silly, to tell him I was sorry for the things I said. For pushing him away instead of savoring every moment, even our last ones over a week ago. He really hadn’t been gone for long, but it felt like my heart went with him. And now my heart was back and he was more enthralling than ever before.

  The final notes rang out between us, and then we tangled together in a sun-melting kiss that blew the world away in a cloud of moondust. No audience, no cameras, no students, or boss, or school board. Just me and this man who had captured my heart more completely than I had ever believed was possible.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Cade

  The biggest venue Burning Umbrage ever played was a sold-out show at CenturyLink Stadium in Seattle, in front of 70,000 people. But tonight, as Bella and I dashed off stage, hand-in-hand, I was flying higher than that.

  Never had I felt such a rush.

  Bella sent the students out for their next number, her voice breathless. And all while never letting go of my hand.

  The kids were grinning and waving. Then the music began, the lights faded in. The audience hushed quickly, and Paloma and Marcus commanded the stage once more.

  But us . . .

  I couldn’t stop thinking about us. The way Bella smelled of sage and honey. The feel of her skin under my curious fingers while they trailed up and down her arms. My hands wanted to explore every dip and curve, to memorize the map of her body. And I wanted her to savor every inch of mine.

  Bella turned in my arms and her dark eyes fell to my lips. Fire rolled through my veins. My breath quivered. I inched up the corner of my mouth in flirty invitation—a dare to kiss me again.

  She didn’t hesitate.

  Soft lips crashed into mine, her hands tangling in my hair.

  I wrapped my arms around her and d
ipped her low. Her lithe body bent like a willow branch against mine. God, that body. The way every graceful line moved, especially against me. She tasted sweet like coffee and butterscotch and, as the velvet of her tongue danced between my lips, I almost lost it.

  Bella.

  Why had I been such an idiot? Why had I doubted? Why had I waited so long to fight for what my heart wanted most? A home. A family. A quieter, more normal life. And Bella . . .

  Bella gently pushed on my chest until I righted our positions, then she took a step back. She considered me for several long, heady seconds, before smoothing back a stray lock of my hair. “You came back.”

  “I never should have left.”

  “I can’t believe you did that, up on stage.” Looking around, her eyes wide, she straightened her dress and fidgeted with her hair, then let out a little disbelieving laugh. “I can’t believe I did that. I kissed you in front of the whole school, my boss—”

  I took her hand before it could fly up and knock something off the prop shelf behind her. “People love love.”

  “But—”

  “Bella . . .” I stroked the curve of her cheek with my thumb, to pull her back to me. “Do you trust me?”

  She cocked her head. “Did you say . . . love?”

  There she was. Leaning in close, I slowly met her rounded eyes and whispered, “I’m in love with you, Ms. Pagano.”

  “Mr. Owens,” she whispered back on a sigh, pressing her forehead to mine, a beautiful grin on her face. “I love you too.”

  “Even when I’m a narcissistic, arrogant ass?”

  She rolled her eyes playfully. “Especially when you’re a narcissistic, arrogant ass.”

  “What about Bob?”

  “What about him?”

  I smirked. “He gets easily jealous.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of coming between you and Bob.” She softly bit down on her lower lip. “Does Bob like yoga pants?”