I’m struck by the same thought I had the first night I watched him perform: Ryder Woods was born to be a star.
So… why is he back here? My heart is pounding. What — who — did he come back for?
“Holy shit!” Carly hisses, plopping down beside me on the blanket. She hands me a bottled water as she sips her beer. “Is that…”
“Yup.”
“I thought he left…”
“As did I.”
“But now he’s back…”
“So it would seem.”
“Is this good news or bad news?”
My eyes cut to her. I swallow hard. “I don’t know yet.”
“Well… fuck.”
“Fudge indeed, Carly. Fudge indeed.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
ryder
It’s so damn good to be home.
Back onstage, back with the band. Guitar in my hands and lyrics on my tongue. I serenade the crowd with all the gusto I can muster, sweeping my eyes across the massive crowd. It’s hard to make out any faces with the bright lights streaming into my eyes, but there must be twenty thousand people out there, sitting on picnic blankets and listening to us perform.
I’m still in shock Aiden was able to pull this off. I don’t know how he managed to get our spot in the lineup back, but I wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn it included a heavy amount of ass-kissing. For a man of few words, he can really turn on the charm when necessary.
We play a few of our modified Lacey songs, plus two of our tightest covers, revving up the audience until they’re swaying and singing along with us. I signal Aiden with a nod before we start the next number and his fingers go still as I step up to the mic.
“Thank you!” I call over the applause. “Man, you guys are awesome. We’ve only got a few more songs to play for you tonight, but this next one is particularly special to me.”
Wolf-whistles and catcalls erupt.
“See, I wrote it about girl I didn’t want to say goodbye to…”
There’s a collective awwww.
“I don’t know where she is or if she’ll ever hear this… but Felicity, wherever you are in the world tonight… this one’s for you, baby.”
I know she’s gone, but it doesn’t matter. I conjure up an image to hold in my mind — deep amber-gold eyes locked on mine, long thick braid hanging down her back like a rope, out-of-practice smile tugging at her mouth. Grabbing the mic, I close my eyes and sing to her.
Just to her.
“Why would I look at the stars, when I could look at you?
Why would I close off my heart, when you’ll just break through..?”
The crowd is utterly silent. Totally transfixed.
“’Cause I got too close to the flame
Blinded my sight, ruined my name.
Wasn’t till I saw you that it hit me,
I was burning up…
For a girl named Felicity.”
I think I hear some commotion at the base of the stage, but my focus never shifts from the song.
“Why would I tear you apart, when I could walk away?
Why would I tell you the truth is, I just want to stay?”
Aiden and Linc come in stronger as I belt the last verse.
“‘Cause I got too close to a star
Singed on my mind, scored on my heart
Wasn’t till I left that it hit me,
I was in love…
With a girl named Felicity.
A girl named Felicity….”
I hold the last notes, making her name last. When I finally fade out, the audience reacts so intensely, I think they must be cheering for someone else. It’s hard to wrap my mind around the fact that they’re screaming for us. After I left LA, I thought this part of my life was over. That I’d never be up here again, feeling this unbelievable rush, sharing my words with a swaying ocean of strangers.
This is what music is supposed to be. It’s not about buying the right wardrobe or attending the hottest parties or having the most followers on Instagram. It’s this. This feeling when the air turns to fire from the notes leaving your fingertips, when your heart expands past the limits of your chest cavity and connects to every other person out there listening.
“Thank you,” I say, my eyes opening. “Thank you all so much.”
I can barely hear my own words over their roars — they’ve overwhelmed the sound system. Most of them are now on their feet, flailing their arms out at me. Almost like they’re pointing at something… desperate for me to take notice…
My chin swivels.
My heart fucking stops.
She’s standing there barefoot in a gauzy white dress, looking like a goddamned angel sent straight from heaven. Her eyes are on mine and her expression is full of so much shock and joy and longing, it damn near brings me to my knees. I can’t imagine what my own expression looks like.
Felicity.
The crowd has fallen silent, waiting breathlessly to see how this is about to play out. The air thickens with tension, an electrical charge running through the entire amphitheater.
“Hi,” she whispers, taking a tiny step in my direction.
I don’t respond. I can’t. I’m too busy swinging my guitar around my back, closing the distance between us, and sweeping her up into my arms. Our lips crash together and I kiss her her until I’m absolutely sure, without a shred of doubt or uncertainty, that she’s actually here with me.
The crowd goes wild, screaming so loud the whole sky seems to shake.
I barely hear them.
She’s here.
She’s back.
She’s mine.
“I thought you were in LA!”
“I thought you left Nashville!”
“You came back?”
“You didn’t leave?”
We both laugh as we fire questions at each other too rapidly to answer. I’m still holding her close, my hands on her cheeks, my forehead pressed against hers. Her arms are so tight around me I can barely breathe, as though she’s afraid to let go.
“Uh, guys?” Linc appears a few feet away, grinning like an idiot. “Not to interrupt, but… you have an audience. Literally.”
Felicity makes a small squeak of concern as we turn to look out at the crowd. They’re on their feet, clapping and screaming, thrilled beyond belief that they’ve just witnessed a real-life love story playing out onstage. The cheers are deafening. I hold Felicity’s hand tight in mine as we walk over to the microphone at center stage.
“Sorry about that, y’all. I wasn’t exactly expecting my girl to surprise me up here… Forgive us if we got a little carried away.”
More applause rattles the sky.
I glance sidelong at Felicity and see she’s blushing all the way to her hairline. She’s not wearing a stitch of makeup. Her hair is in a messy fishtail braid, half falling out. Her bare toes press against the surface of the stage. Her dress is a size too big on her willowy frame, probably borrowed from Carly’s closet.
She’s never looked more beautiful.
“Ladies and gentleman… please welcome Miss Felicity Wilde!”
I think I see Felicity’s eyes flash with concern, but I’m already turning back to the audience. I drop my voice to a conspiratorial whisper as I lean into the mic. “Y’all, this girl here… I’ve got to tell you, she has one of the prettiest voices I’ve ever heard. And I’m thinking, since we’ve already got her up here… if you guys make enough noise, we might just convince her to sing one with us!”
I feel her tense at my side. “Ryder! No. I can’t.”
“Baby.” I lean over and bump my nose against hers. “Listen to them.”
A chant has broken out.
Sing. Sing. Sing. Sing.
“All these people…” Concern is written clearly on her face. “All these lights and cameras…”
“I’m right here. I’m with you.”
The chant increases in both volume and speed.
Sing. Sing. Sing. Sing. Sing
. Sing. Sing. Sing.
There’s really no other choice, at this point. Her head nods, she gives a small smile, and with a newly determined set to her shoulders, she brings her lips to my mic.
“Hey, y’all. You’ll have to bear with me — I’ve never performed in public before. But I’m so happy to be here with you.” She glances at me, eyes so bright they singe me. “And with him.”
They scream her name.
Later, I’m going to make her scream mine.
I grin wolfishly, feeling like I’m on top of the damn world. Flying higher than I’ve ever been before.
“Nashville, you’ve been absolutely amazing tonight. This is our last song for you…” Covering the mic, I call back to Lincoln and Aiden. They nod, both fighting grins of their own as they take in the sight of the adoring crowd. I bring my gaze back to Felicity’s and hold it as my voice booms out.
“If you know the words, please sing along with us… This one’s called Faded by the great Bethany Hayes…”
Chapter Twenty-Four
felicity
I can’t believe he talked me into doing this.
Tricked me into doing this, actually.
But I’m so happy to be here with him, standing by his side, I hardly care that there are twenty-thousand people out there watching us, listening as our voices weave in and out in perfect harmony. We’ve both sung this song a thousand times, but never together before this moment. As much as I’d like to, I can’t deny there’s something utterly captivating about the sound we make together, when our melodies mesh into one. Two different bolts of fabric being slowly threaded together by a single needle. Seamless.
It’s exactly as it was when we first sang together at the nursing home, but the stakes are so much higher now. Not just in terms of the massive audience; the ache of desire and desperation in Ryder’s eyes has never been more potent.
“Wish that I could tell you that you’re hated
All those tears I cried, ‘cause you never tried
And still, for years, I waited…”
I hardly remember the actual performance. I’m so lost in his gaze as we sing into the same microphone, so focused on the brush of his elbow against mine as he stands by my side, the rasp in his voice ringing in my ears, it’s a wonder I’m able to recall the lyrics. I almost forget to wave to the crowd as we walk off stage. My pulse is a sledgehammer roaring between my ears. I want more — of this feeling, of his touch, of his voice, of his body. It feels like an eternity since that night in my room above The Nightingale.
I’ve been waiting — wanting — for far too long.
No more.
We take two steps into the wings, out of the crowd’s view. Before I can get out a single word, I find my body pinned against a stack of storage cases as Ryder closes in. His eyes are full of dark promise, his brows pull together with resolve.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
His lips claim mine less than a second later, harder than I remember and hotter than an inferno. I recognize the urgency in his kiss, a match for my own; I’m equally frantic for him. My hands tremble as they slide into his hair, pulling him as close as I can manage. It’s not nearly close enough. I want him under my clothes, under my skin. I’m so lost in his drugging touch, I barely care who might be watching as his hands roam down my sides, grazing every inch of me as though he’s been starved for my touch.
He’s so gorgeous it hurts to look at him too closely. His bruises are gone. His lip is healed — I suck it into my mouth and he groans low in his throat.
“Felicity.” There’s desperation in his voice. Sheer need, unadulterated and exposed. “I need you.”
I can feel the evidence of that need, steely and throbbing against my thigh.
“I need to touch you.” He kisses his way up my neck. “I need to make sure you’re really here with me.” His teeth scrape my earlobe as he tugs gently on it. “I need you in my bed. Under my sheets.” His voice rumbles into my ear and I gasp. “I need to be inside you while you come apart at the seams.”
God, this man is going to kill me.
I gaze into his eyes, practically panting with desire. “What are we still doing here?”
There’s sin in his grin as he leads me through the side exit. We don’t bother to say goodbye to Lincoln, Aiden, or Carly as we run down the steps and cut around the perimeter of the crowd, our hands laced so tight it makes my bones ache. The loft is close — blessedly close. We tear up the stairwell, a blur of limbs, our mouths fused together as he fumbles with the locked door. I laugh as we fall inside, off balance from our haste, landing on the hardwood floor in a pile of tangled limbs with an abruptness that knocks the wind from my lungs.
Ryder kicks the door shut with a predatory growl and rolls on top of me. When I feel his weight, my bones lose all their density. I am completely at his mercy as I arch my neck to meet his lips in a deep kiss. Defenseless in the best kind of way.
“Not here,” he mutters, hauling me to my feet. We manage to find his bedroom, shedding our clothes as fast as physically possible. I don’t bother looking around at the decor as he tosses me onto the bed. I only have eyes for him as he stalks closer — a predator circling the prey it’s about to enjoy for dinner. He makes my breath catch, even in the dark.
“Ryder,” I breathe, watching him watch me.
“Felicity,” he whispers, spreading my knees apart.
“I need you. I need you so much, it hurts.”
At my admission, his eyes flare with so much heat I think they’ll turn the sheets to cinders as he thrusts inside me, deeper and harder than ever before. This time, there’s no careful concern, no pause to allow me to acclimate. He’s too passionate to be patient. There’s something savage in his expression as he pounds into me, his fingertips digging into my hipbones. Something dark and dangerous that thrills me to my core.
As stars explode behind my eyes, I think of the song he sang for me tonight… the same one I found written on the last page of my journal just this morning when I packed up my life to leave this city behind.
Wasn’t till I left that it hit me…
I was in love…
With a girl named Felicity…
In my head, I add another verse as I come undone underneath him. A verse I’m not quite ready to share — not yet, anyway. Maybe someday, I will.
Spent my life always the outsider
Till I fell in love…
With a man named Ryder…
I hold him close as we move together, creating our own fireworks while the rest of the world watches the Independence Day display exploding in the sky outside his window. I’m sure it’s beautiful, but I can’t find even the smallest ounce of desire to break eye contact with the man lighting every fuse inside me, setting off a shower of sparks that burn me up.
“Busted.”
My head whirls around. Lincoln is standing a few feet from me, grinning.
I blush profusely.
It’s morning. I’m wearing one of Ryder’s faded band t-shirts, sitting on the counter with my legs swinging as I eat handfuls of dry cereal straight from the box. I was starving, but Ryder looked too peaceful to wake.
There’s an awkward beat of silence as Lincoln and I stare at each other across the kitchen island. The only thing I can think to do is hold out the box in his direction.
“Want some stale Raisin Bran?”
He laughs. “Nah, I’m good.”
I take another handful, then hop down from the countertop. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to raid your cabinets, but I was hungry.”
Lincoln walks over to the fridge and starts grabbing ingredients for an omelette. His eyes slide to mine. “You eat actual food, or are you strictly a three-month-old cereal kind of girl?”
“I would not say no to eggs.” I grin. “I’m famished.”
“From all the cardio you were doing last night ?” His eyebrows waggle.
“Leave her alone, Linc,” Ryder calls, walking into the kitchen.
Turning to face h
im, I feel my mouth fill with drool that has nothing to do with the prospect of breakfast. He’s in a pair of low-riding gray sweatpants, his chest bare, his six-pack on full display as he walks across the room to my side. There’s a warm look in his eyes as he bends down to press his lips against mine.
“Good morning.”
“Hi,” I breathe, leaning into the kiss.
“You could’ve woken me.”
“Thought you could use the sleep.” I lift a finger to trace the dark shadows beneath his eyes. “You look tired.”
“It was a long day,” he murmurs.
And an even longer night, I think. The gleam of light in his eyes tells me his thoughts are on the same wavelength. Moving with purpose, he removes the cereal box from my grip, sets it on the counter, and hauls me up against his body.
“Breakfast later.” His lips hit my neck, nuzzling lightly. “There’s something else I’d like to do with you now…”
“Okay,” I breathe, all too on board with that plan. I’m already simmering with anticipation as his lips brush mine.
When Lincoln begins to make fake gagging sounds, Ryder turns and shoves him in the arm.
“Dude! Chill.” Linc rubs his bicep then goes back to making coffee, mumbling under his breath as he shoves a filter into the basket and dumps a few scoops of ground beans inside. “Bastard gets a little action, suddenly can’t take a joke…”
The door to Aiden’s bedroom slams open and bangs against the opposite wall. We all jump as the bassist steps into the room, looking pale and shaky. I half expect him to tell us he’s seen a ghost.
“Man, did you do mushrooms again?” Ryder shakes his head. “Last time it took you two days to come down.”
Faded (Faded Duet Book 1) Page 20