by J. A. Owenby
“I understand, and I’ll talk to him. Will you at least say hi to him right now? His spirits are pretty low, and I think hearing from you will help.”
Hesitation nipped at me, but I pushed it away. This wasn’t the time for my personal feelings to stand in the way. I needed to be an adult. Besides, I missed him.
“Okay.”
Sound rustled through the phone, and then, “Gemma?”
“Dad,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Are you still mad at me for leaving like that?” I blurted out.
“No, not anymore. It was a shock, but I understand. How are you doing? Ada Lynn keeps us up to date on most things. It’s not the same as hearing it from you, though.”
“I know. At least you’ve had her updates, so you didn’t worry. Maybe I can call you and Mom once a week.”
“I’d really like that,” he said, sounding exhausted.
“Are you in pain?”
“No, I’m just tired all the time. I’ll be fine, Gemma. They caught it in time, so with the treatment I’ll be back to normal soon.”
“Promise?” I asked, quietly.
“Yeah. I’m going to be fine. And so are you. We’ve had some big changes, but we’re Thompsons and nothing keeps us down for long, right?”
I smiled. Here he was sick and trying to make me feel better.
“I’d better get some rest. I love you, Gemma.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
I should be there. They were sugar coating the seriousness of the issue. I could tell in their tones.
Walking over to my closet, I yanked the door open and started to clean it out. In a minute flat, everything I owned was on my bed. My attention landed on my bag, and I grabbed it, stuffing it with clothes. The door swung open, breaking my train of thought.
“What the hell?” Mac asked, approaching me. “What’s all of this?” Her eyes widened, and fear flickered across her features. She fidgeted with the braid draped over her shoulder and adjusted her bright green top while she waited for an explanation.
“I’m leaving, Mac. My dad has cancer. They need me back in Louisiana.”
“Wait, what?” She grabbed my hands and turned me toward her. “Look at me. What happened?”
A tear slipped down my cheek, and my throat was thick with emotion.
“Did he ask you to come home?” Her brows knitted together as she tried to figure out what had happened.
“No, the opposite.”
Mac squeezed my hands. “Start from the beginning and tell me everything.”
I repeated my phone conversations with Ada Lynn, Mom, and Dad while I sank down onto the side of my bed.
“Gemma, he said to stay, are you sure you want to go back?” she asked, her fingers steepled together, her expression pleading with me.
My chest ached with emotion and guilt. I didn’t want to go back at all.
“No, I don’t want to. But what kind of daughter am I if I stay?”
“A good one. And your mom promised if you needed to come home, she’d tell you. Plus, from what you’ve told me, Ada Lynn would definitely talk to you about it.”
“Shit, I’m supposed to call her back.”
“Okay, you do that, and I’m going to make a call myself. Afterward, we’re going to put your things away.”
“I’ll put my stuff back as long as Ada Lynn says I don’t need to come back.”
“Well hurry up and call her then. You’ve made the room one big mess.” Mac smiled while she grabbed her phone and left the room, allowing me some privacy.
I chewed anxiously on my thumbnail while I waited for Ada Lynn to pick up my call.
“Hello?”
“It’s Gemma.”
“Well it took you long enough,” she said, chuckling.
“I had started packing to come home.” I sniffled and sat on the edge of my bed.
“Don’t you do it, now. Your mom, Dad, and I have told you to stay put. I promise, I’ll tell you if you need to come home.”
Silence hovered between us.
“How long?” I asked. “How long have you all known?”
“Well, I found out today when he had his first treatment. Obviously, your mom has known for longer.”
“Yeah, it makes sense,” I said, pausing for a minute. “Are you sure I shouldn’t come home? I feel like I’m an awful daughter and I should be there for my family.” I groaned while I stood and began pacing again.
“Listen to me, my blue-eyed girl. Your family bonded over tragedy, and it has to learn to thrive again. The longer you’re away and learning to stand on your own feet and moving forward, the more your family as a whole will get better. It’s the trickle-down effect. So you stay and continue to heal unless you hear out of my mouth otherwise. Don’t you come home. You have my word that I’ll tell you if you need to,” she said, pausing for a second. “Promise me.” Her sharp words stung. She wasn’t playing with me.
“Promise.” I sighed, giving in. Mac would be thrilled, and as awful as I felt about staying, I was also relieved. If I went back to Louisiana, I wasn't sure I’d ever make it out again.
“All right, it’s late here, so I’m going to try and get some sleep. You should, too. Call me tomorrow, and I’ll keep you up to date on your dad, okay?”
“Thank you, Ada Lynn. Love you.”
“You too, honey. Talk to you tomorrow.”
Chapter 8
Five minutes after I hung up with Ada Lynn, my clothes were put away, and Mac returned.
“Oh. My. God,” she whispered, flinging herself against the back of the closed door. “You’re staying.” Her shoulders sagged with relief.
“Yup, you’re not getting rid of me yet,” I said, attempting a smile.
“Well Hendrix said to meet him at the library.”
I whirled around toward her. “You told him about my dad?” I squealed, my hands fisting at my sides.
Mac full on cringed. “I’m sorry, Gemma. But I needed help convincing you to stay if your parents said to go home.”
“Hendrix is your backup?”
“I’m sorry,” Mac pleaded. “I didn’t know what else to do, and you’re upset, and I’m not great with knowing how to help people. He’s super good at it, like it comes naturally to him.”
"Enough." Mac jumped when I stomped my foot. "You had no right to share my business."
My words seemed to echo in the now silent room. We stood frozen, me with my hands on my hips, Mac with both hands covering her mouth. The wide-eyed look of remorse on Mac's face melted my anger. I let out a defeated sigh. "It was a lot to dump on you, so I'm sorry. I understand why you wanted Hendrix's help."
“No, no, I’m sorry,” she said, lunging at me and pulling me into a hug.
Startled, it took me a minute to hug her back. And for the first time in a long time, I felt as though I really did have a friend my age.
“Okay, you need to hurry. Hendrix is waiting for you. Shoo, go,” she said, waving her arms toward the door. “Grab your shit and don’t keep the man waiting.”
I barked out a laugh at her dramatics. My heart sped up a little at the thought of him waiting for me. I wasn’t naïve enough to think he was anything other than a friend who shared an interest in music and my safety from Brandon, but both he and Mac were growing on me. And if my circle expanded a little, I’d be okay with that. One thing at a time. I still wasn’t sure of his motives. Although, he was her brother and if Mac vouched for him, he had to be okay.
I smiled with the realization I trusted her, even when she did stupid shit like calling Hendrix and sharing my business. At least I knew where her heart was.
“Okay, fine,” I said, grabbing my stuff. “I’ll be back by dark.”
“What? No, just have him walk you back.”
“Mac, I can’t ask him to walk me back.” I frowned at the idea. I’d relied on myself so much over the last few years I’d forgotten how to ask anyone for help.
“Why? He knows the deal with Brandon. Besides, if H
endrix opens the door and sees it’s dark, he’s going to offer anyway. It’s who he is.”
Unease gnawed at me while I considered being out at night, allowing myself to be an easy target for Brandon and his asshats.
“You’re fine. If he doesn’t walk you back, call me, and I’ll meet you. Deal?”
I nodded. I liked how Mac’s mind worked─with backup plans.
“Okay, I’ll see you tonight.” I skipped down the stairs and hurried toward the library.
* * *
I pulled out my chair at our table. A smile lit up his face as I settled in.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low.
My stomach clenched with butterflies at the sound of it.
“Mac told me about your dad. You okay? Are you leaving?” he asked, worry lines creasing his forehead.
“No, I’m staying for now at least. Mom promised she’d tell me to come home if it got worse. She wants me to stay here. Even Dad said to stay. So...I will.” Guilt flooded me, and I swallowed the ball of emotions that threatened to erupt.
Hendrix released a slow breath and leaned back in his chair.
“You seem relieved,” I said, tilting my head and studying him. Something had shifted between us since we’d sung together. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. He seemed more at ease talking to me, and maybe I was with him, too.
“I’m glad you’re staying.” He reached his hand across the table, placing it over mine. Heat shot through me, and I snatched it away.
“Please don’t do that,” I whispered, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“Sorry, I was trying to—”
I raised my hand to stop him from saying anything else. A heavy silence fell between us. What was wrong with me? How could I be so childish as to not want a friend to touch my hand? Mac did. So what was the difference with Hendrix? I already knew the answer, though.
“I,” he paused as I stared at him. “I wrote a new song and wondered if you’d be interested in hearing it.”
“Me?” I asked, confused.
“Well, yeah, is it okay?” He tucked his hair behind his ear, his attention never leaving me.
I shrugged. “I don’t understand why me, is all.”
“Shit, really? Gemma—” He sat up straighter in his chair. “Your voice is unlike any I’ve ever heard, and I listen to a ton of music.”
I couldn’t help but giggle. I’d seen his Spotify lists, he wasn’t joking. My shoulders relaxed, and I leaned back in my chair.
“So what does that have to do with you wanting me to hear it?”
“Everything. Before I say anything else, though, will you come with me to listen to it?”
My guard immediately went up. “Where?”
“The campus studio. I recorded it earlier today.”
My brows shot up in surprise. I’d never seen the inside of a real studio, but I’d always wanted to. It would also mean we’d be in a small room together. Alone. No one else would be around, no librarian, no other students. And although my emotions and logic played tug of war with each other, my curiosity won the battle. Music was my weak spot, and I wanted to hear his song.
“Okay, but only for a little bit.”
A smile spread across his face as he stood and studied me for a long moment.
“Now I’m nervous. I hope you like it.” A flush dusted his cheeks.
“I’m sure I will,” I said, trying to reassure him. I stood, pushed my chair in, and walked toward him. He extended his hand to me, and I hesitated. My eyes held his and then my gaze dropped back down. He really wanted to hold my hand? Could I be okay with it?
“I won’t bite,” he said softly. “Unless you like that sort of thing.” His low chuckle filled the space between us as I slowly reached out and took his hand. Shivers shot through me at his touch. One I’d willingly consented to. His fingers intertwined with mine and he gently pulled me toward him, giving my hand a little squeeze.
“This okay?” he asked, tilting his head toward our hands.
I nodded, unable to articulate a yes or no.
“Good. Let’s go.” I didn’t pay any attention to the campus or where we were going. My brain was still trying to process the fact Hendrix was holding my hand, and I was allowing it to happen. Every time I wanted to take off running, reminders of what Mac had shared with me helped ease the panic. They were step-siblings, and if she trusted him, I could too. Regardless, my entire body tensed with anxiety. What if Mac didn’t know him as well as she thought she did? What if he was like Brandon but smoother?
“Here we are,” Hendrix said, smiling.
My fingers slipped from his as he ushered me into the building, the door clanging shut behind us. I jumped when it clicked closed, the finality ringing through the empty hallway.
“You okay?” Hendrix asked, concern flickering across his expression.
“Yeah. I don’t know the campus well yet, and I’m a bit jumpy. Where are we?”
Hendrix took my hand again and led me toward the large windows near the door we’d just entered.
“See over there?” I looked where he was pointing, to the right of us. “Your dorm is over there. If you glance up, you’ll see the roof.”
“Oh,” I said and leaned closer to the window. He was right, I could actually see the dorm from here. A little bit of tension eased from my neck.
“Better?” he asked, giving my hand a little squeeze.
“Yes, thank you.” A small smile pulled at the corners of my mouth as my focus dropped to the floor.
“All right, let's go to the studio.”
As we walked down a long hall, I took note of every door and exit, committing them to memory in case I needed to escape.
Hendrix opened a door marked Studio C and stood aside for me to enter first. It wasn't a large room, and it was empty except for a couple of chairs and a mic hanging from the ceiling. When he opened the door next to a large glass observation window, I gasped.
“Pretty awesome, huh?” he asked and dropped my hand. He inspected the mixing console and pulled out a chair for me. “Here ya go.”
He flipped some switches, then sat down next to me. The next thing I knew, the studio was saturated with a soft melody. His rich tone rang in my ears, and moments later my body relaxed into the music. He was amazing. Everything about his tone and execution was perfect. The song finished, and I looked at him with awe.
“Well?” He stared at me in anticipation.
“I love it,” I said, my words cracking with emotion.
“Did you like the lyrics? I can change anything. I wasn’t sure about the hook, actually.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I think it’s still missing something.” He frowned, cued the music, and played it again. “Here.”
Leaning forward, I listened intently, tuning in to what my instincts were telling me.
“What if you took it up half a step here, like this,” I said, singing softly.
“Again?”
I sang it a few times, and he joined in, our voices blending together effortlessly.
“Yeah, that’s it.” He smiled as he cued the music to another spot, asking for my opinion. We continued for another few hours; collaborating and singing together.
For the first time in years, I completely lost myself in the moment. I was no longer tangled in the terror of my past or the fear of my future. I allowed the joy of music and being with Hendrix to fully encompass me and it felt─peaceful.
I leaned back in my chair and smiled, really smiled at him.
He grinned at me as he sank into his chair. “You have a beautiful smile,” he said. “I can physically see the change in you when you’re lost in the music. You light up.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. Not only with his comment about my smile, but the fact I’d been so easy to read. I self-consciously tugged on my hat and pushed my glasses up farther on my nose.
“Sing it with me,” he said, clapping his hands together like it was the best idea h
e’d ever had in his life.
“No,” I said, waving my hands in front of me for extra emphasis. “No way. This is your thing, not mine.”
“You’re amazing, Gemma. You’re what this song needs. What I need.” He placed his hand on mine.
What did he mean by what he needed? My heart skipped a few beats and raced full speed ahead. His touch sent shockwaves through me. Why was he so interested in me? He didn’t really even know what I looked like beneath my oversized, drab-colored clothes, hat, and tinted glasses. He couldn’t even tell what color my eyes were.
“Please,” he whispered.
Any reservations melted with his plea. Suddenly, I was putty in his hands, stripped of my own will. Shit, how was this happening?
“What if we record here and when I sing live, you can sing with me backstage?”
“What?” I almost giggled at his suggestion. “Live? No, Hendrix. Hell no.”
“Hear me out before you go into full panic mode on me. Stages have curtains, and you can stay backstage completely concealed and we will mic you up. No biggie. No pressure, just your beautiful tone,” he said, his eyes pleading with me.
I chewed on my bottom lip as his idea sank into my head. I couldn’t commit to singing on stage, but I could with him here, in the studio.
“How about one thing at a time? The studio first and that’s all I can agree to right now.”
He searched my face, a smile easing across his handsome features.
“Deal.”
“Okay,” I said, unable to hide my own grin.
“Let’s book some studio time, then.”
I nodded, the impact of my decision weighing on me. So far, he’d been a perfect gentleman, and now I understood the reason for his kindness. He wanted my voice, not really me. And somehow it was a huge relief. If he was genuinely trustworthy, I could give him that.
Hendrix’s cell phone rang, the sudden and loud intrusion making me jump. His chuckle filled the room as he squeezed my hand before letting it go and answering his cell.
Snapped out of my daze, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the time. Shit. It was after nine which meant it would be almost dark. I jumped out of my chair and headed for the door.