They returned to the parking lot in silence.
As Craig picked up his cooler and rod and stashed it in the back of the van, Brodie asked, "Did you catch anything?"
"I did, but I threw them back. I just fish to relax."
"My grandfather does that as well. You two have that in common."
"Whatever. As long as he makes my mom happy, I don't care. She's had a hard time since Dad died, being a single mom to a kid who is completely screwed up."
"I'm sorry about what happened to you. I hope you understand why I needed to talk to you."
Craig shrugged. "A lot of people drive white vans."
"You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe one day we can get a beer and put this behind us. We might end up being family."
"We'll see," Craig said, as he got into his van and closed the door.
Brodie walked back to his car as Craig drove out of the lot. He couldn't help noticing that there was no floral logo or decal on the van. Was he chasing down ridiculous leads based on Travis's artwork? It was sure beginning to feel that way.
On his way back to town he called Adam to fill him in. Once again, they were back to square one. But not having to take Craig down to the station or write up a report meant he'd be seeing Chelsea soon, so there was a silver lining to this particular dead end.
Chelsea stared at the guitar that Austin had left for her. Then her gaze moved to the envelope with her name on it. Did she really care what Austin had to say?
On the other hand, she was tired of running away from things that might bother her. She'd dealt with Austin yesterday. He was gone. Whatever his note said wasn't going to impact her life. With that decision made, she ripped open the envelope and removed a single piece of paper.
As she stared at his handwriting, she couldn't help thinking how familiar it was. But he hadn't written her love notes when they were together; he'd written songs with her. They'd scribbled down words and ideas everywhere they went. At least, in the beginning; then everything had changed. With fame and success had come other songwriters who the label wanted to use. They'd had less and less freedom to write their own music.
She hadn't realized in the moment how limiting that had all been. She'd thought by signing a contract with a music company that she would have more money and more freedom. But with that money had come expectations and strings—lots and lots of strings.
Sighing, she turned her attention away from the past, bringing into focus Austin's words.
Chelsea,
I want to apologize. I know I ambushed you. What you said yesterday surprised me and actually made sense. I have been relying on everyone else to bring my success back, but you always believed in me in a way that no one else did. Your words inspired me. I'm going to try to do it on my own again.
You probably won't even read this. I'm sure I've killed whatever lingering feelings of affection you might have had for me. I was desperate. I know that's not an excuse, but it’s the truth. I've gotten myself into a financial hole, and with my sales tanking, I couldn't think of a way out, until you reminded me to go back to the music. That's where the answers always are.
I want you to have this guitar. You may not feel like writing or playing or singing at this moment, but I hope one day you will. I don't know what happened to you, why you suddenly got so afraid. I know I acted like I knew your secret, but I didn't. I wish I could have helped you deal with whatever it was. If you believe nothing else that I say, believe this—you have a tremendous gift, and you should be sharing your voice with the world. Do it on your terms this time. Sing the songs you want to sing. Perform or don't perform. Do it for yourself and no one else. Just don't stay silent forever.
Austin.
She couldn't believe his words brought tears to her eyes. She set the letter on the table and walked over to the couch, breathing in and out as she did so. She felt like she was standing on the ledge of a cliff, and she didn't know how to get down without falling.
But what if she didn't fall? What if she could walk down and not trip over herself or someone else?
More words came into her head. More notes. She could almost hear the melody.
Her gaze moved back to the guitar.
It called to her like a siren.
She fought the growing urge for another five minutes. Then she got up and retrieved the guitar before returning to the couch. She took it out of its case and rested it comfortably in her lap. It felt like an old friend.
Her fingers found the strings. She'd lost her calluses along with her nerve, and the pinch of the string against her tender skin brought an ache to her heart. It stung in such a good way.
She played a chord and then another, her fingers remembering exactly where they needed to go. The words bubbled up inside her. Her first song. Her first big hit.
The sound that emerged from her throat was off-key and shaky. She cleared her throat and tried again. Her voice squeaked once more, not just with rust but also with fear. But she couldn't stop trying.
Once more, she told herself. She closed her eyes and then let go, singing past the first few words this time, gaining strength and power with each note, each word.
She could see herself in her head, sitting on a stool, playing her guitar at the college coffeehouse where she'd first sang this song. She'd been so young, so full of dreams and passion, and back then she'd had an endless abundance of courage.
Now she sang for that girl. And all the emotions she'd been holding back flooded out.
She couldn't stop. She sang one song, then the next and then another.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Brodie was about to ring Chelsea's doorbell when he heard the music. It took a moment for him to realize that she was singing. He moved toward the window and through the part in the curtain he could see her sitting on the couch, playing a guitar, and singing her heart out.
Her eyes were closed, but there was a smile of pure joy on her face.
He'd seen that smile last night, when they'd made love. He'd thought it had been only for him. But now he felt a little jealous, because clearly music had the ability to move her in the same way. Maybe not the same way, but it definitely brought her pleasure.
He couldn't be angry about that. She'd been fighting her most basic desire, the talent within herself. She'd buried it deep, thinking that as long as she didn't sing, she couldn't hurt anyone. But along the way she'd hurt herself.
He was glad she wasn't hurting anymore.
And my God, she was good. He'd listened to her songs on his phone, but the clarity of her voice now was something special. It wasn't just the tone; it was the emotion, the heart. It was all there. She wasn't holding back anymore, and it was amazing.
He watched and listened for almost ten minutes and when her voice finally came to a breathless halt, he rang the doorbell.
She threw open the door a moment later. Her eyes were big and wide and a little teary, but they were filled with life.
"Brodie." She threw her arms around his neck, giving him a kiss filled with desire and emotion.
He hugged her tight, happy with the welcome, happy to share in this breakthrough moment.
"I sang."
"I heard." He gave her a warm smile. "You sounded great."
"Not at first. I was awful. My voice cracked like a rusty hinge on a door that hadn't been opened in years."
"But you kept going."
"I couldn't seem to stop." She took his hand and pulled him into the house.
"How did you decide to play and sing again?"
"The idea has been simmering for a few days now." She squeezed his hand and gave him an intimate look. "Being with you last night broke down what was left of my barriers. It felt good to let myself feel whatever I was feeling. With you, I was able to let down my guard. I could be myself, and it feels like forever since I've been myself."
"I'm glad you trusted me enough to let go."
"Me, too." She led him over to the couch and they sat down to
gether. "What happened with your lead? Did it pan out?"
"No, it didn't. I'm actually kind of glad."
"Why?"
"Because it involved the son of my grandfather's girlfriend."
"Janet's son? I thought you told me he was injured in an arson fire years ago. Why would you think he was involved?"
"He drives a white van and lives on the street of the most current fire. In fact, I saw him speeding away minutes before I got to the fire scene. But I was wrong. He's not the arsonist. He sped away because the sight of fire triggers his anxiety and panic. He didn't go in to work, because he was too upset, so he went fishing at Glass Lake. Anyway, we talked, and I feel confident he's not involved. I told Adam we need to keep looking."
"I'm sorry it didn't work out."
"Let's talk about your day. You mentioned on the phone earlier that you heard from someone else from your past?"
"Yes. My former mentor, superstar singer Jessalyn West, reached out to Lizzie in an attempt to contact me. She wants me to call her. She saw all the news of the past weekend and thinks we should talk."
"Did you call her?"
"No. I'm still thinking about it."
"Which got you thinking about playing and singing again."
"Partly. At the end of school today, three of the moms approached me with their daughters. They want me to sing at the final summer school assembly on Thursday. They pulled out all the stops, reminding me that there is a child in the school who is suffering from cancer who would love to hear me sing."
"That's a lot of pressure," he said, wondering why she didn't seem more stressed out.
"It made me feel sick to my stomach. I told them no, but they kept pushing. When I got home, and I saw the guitar and read Austin's note…I wondered if I could sing again."
"You read his note? Can I ask what he said?"
"He apologized for his behavior and thanked me for reminding him that he had the music inside him, and he didn't need anyone else to bring it out. It was actually sweet."
He frowned. "I hope he's not playing you."
"He didn't mention anything about me singing with him. He just said that he wanted me to have the guitar and he hoped that one day I could hear the music again, because he thought I had a gift."
"That's when you took out the guitar and started to play." He wanted to feel happier about that, but it seemed like Austin had had more to do with her breakthrough than anyone else.
"Yes. It felt strange and also familiar."
"Well, good. I'm happy you decided to get back to your music."
She gave him a thoughtful look. "You don’t seem that happy."
"Well, I am."
"It wasn't Austin who set me free; it was you, Brodie. None of the other events would have changed anything if you hadn't changed me already."
"I didn't change you, Chelsea."
"Maybe change is the wrong word. You let me out of my prison. You opened the gates. You encouraged me to step through them. I never would have gotten to this place without you. I want you to know that."
He felt like a jerk for making her explain herself. "I appreciate that. But I think you always had the key to those gates. You just had to decide to use it. What now? Are you going to sing on Thursday?"
"I don't know. I haven't gotten that far. It's one thing to sing for myself; it's another to get on the stage, to relive that last terrifying moment of my career."
"Your elementary school won't be as scary."
"I don't know about that. Even today, when I saw those little girls looking up at me like I was their idol…it was unnerving."
"You need to see those expressions through a different lens. Their adoration isn’t your burden. It should be your pleasure to know that your music means something to them. It's so rare to be able to impact another person's life in that way. I know that you'll always feel sorry for what happened to that young man. But walking away from music was never the answer."
"You think I should sing on Thursday."
"And maybe beyond Thursday, beyond the school." He paused, realizing that what he was about to say might not only change her life, but his.
If she went back to music, to touring, would he fit in to that life? He was a small-town cop. Although, that could change, too. They could both be reinventing themselves again.
"You're moving too fast," she said. "I need time to think."
"It sounds like you have about three days. Did you eat yet?"
"No. I haven't started cooking. I got distracted, but we could grill some steaks, and I got potatoes to bake and a salad to make."
"That's perfect. But first." He slid his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her close. "I need a kiss. I missed you today."
Her blue eyes darkened. "Want to show me how much?"
"I really do."
He was about to kiss her again, when she pulled away and jumped to her feet. "One second."
"Where could you be going now?" he asked in amazement.
She came back a moment later, gave him a cocky look, and tossed a box of condoms on the coffee table. "I didn't just pick up food at the store."
He grinned. "If we're going to get through all those, we better get started." He pulled her down on the couch and pressed her back against the cushions.
They didn't get to grilling the steaks until almost nine, and then they were back in bed by eleven. Chelsea felt like she was living in a very happy dream. Being with Brodie was incredibly fun. The sex was amazing, and the conversation, the laughter, the emotional connection, was just as spectacular. She felt like she could talk to Brodie about anything. And the way he saw the world, his instincts, always seemed right to her.
He'd told her that she needed to change her perspective, look at her life through a different lens, and she was still thinking about that as he scrambled eggs for her on Tuesday morning.
She'd offered to make breakfast, but Brodie had insisted on preparing one of the few meals he knew how to do well. So, she was sipping her coffee and thinking that every day should start out exactly like this one.
"Almost done," he told her, flinging her a smile. "Do you want toast?"
"Sure. I can make it."
"You sit," he ordered.
She smiled as she shifted back onto her chair, thinking he looked deliciously handsome after the shower they'd just shared, one of the best showers of her life. But then everything with Brodie seemed to be hitting the top of her favorite things to do list.
"I could get used to this," she said, as he served her eggs and toast a few moments later.
"Me, too. I like waking up with you almost as much as I like going to bed with you."
"Are you leaving showering off the list?"
"Not even for a second," he said with a laugh. "And the couch wasn't bad, either."
"No, it wasn't." She dug into her eggs. "These are delicious by the way. Did you put hot sauce in here?"
"I did. I like my eggs with a little kick. Is it too much?"
"No, it's very good."
"Have you thought any more about singing for the school? Are you going to have to give the PTA moms an answer today?"
"I'm sure they'll ask, but I haven't decided." She paused. "Would you be able to come if I said yes? I know you probably have to work, but the assembly is at noon. I was wondering if that might be your lunch break."
His expression changed, the humorous light fading from his eyes. "Actually, I won't be working on Thursday; I'll be in LA."
"Your trip?" She set down her fork, not feeling that hungry anymore. "I didn't realize you'd already made plans to go to LA."
"I've been meaning to talk to you about it."
"It sounds like you're seriously considering the offer."
"I've agreed to a day of meetings. That's it."
"I guess that's the next logical step," she said, trying to keep her voice neutral.
"I want to speak to the network executives myself and not have the conversation filtered through my father, who ha
s no problem spinning something if it will close a deal."
"You must be a little interested in the offer, if you're willing to go to LA."
"I'm curious, but I'm a long way from taking the job, if it's even real. In Hollywood, there's a lot more talk than action. Some things never actually get developed."
"And you're ready to go back into the skiing world?"
He met her gaze. "I honestly don't know. But maybe I need to find out."
His words resonated within her. Maybe she needed to find out if she could sing again in public. "We really are on parallel tracks," she murmured, feeling a little sad at the thought of them going off in different directions.
"I think it's less than fifty-fifty that I'll take the job."
"How can you say that without more information?"
"I can't see myself leaving my life here, especially now." He reached out and took her hand. "I'd like to take you into consideration, Chelsea."
She was touched by his words. "I don't want you to make decisions based on me."
"What if I want to do that? Unless…"
"What?"
"You seem to be thinking differently about music these days. I wonder if that world will lure you back."
"I'm worried about singing in front of some kids on Thursday. I don't think I'll be hitting a big stage anytime soon."
"I think you should sing for your students. You can do it; I know you can."
"You believe in me more than I believe in myself."
"I don't think that's true anymore. The belief is coming back; you're just not sure you should let it in."
"Why do you have to be so insightful?"
"My gift," he said with a grin.
"Maybe you should turn that insight onto yourself."
"It's easier to solve someone else's problems."
"That's true."
"I wish we could talk more," he said, as he let go of her hand. "I need to get down to the station."
"Go. I'll clean up."
He gave her a quick kiss and headed out the door.
She got up more slowly, her good mood evaporating as she thought about the changes that might be coming. They could be great changes, or horrible ones. She'd wanted to put heartbreak behind her, but she'd made the mistake of falling for Brodie. And opening herself up to love meant opening herself up to possible pain.
My Wildest Dream: Whisper Lake #2 Page 22