by Shandi Boyes
Although I hate even considering the idea of siding with Delilah, my two-hour trip to pick Emily up from school has me examining both sides of the coin. I can’t hide my relationship with Emily; we’ve already booked the church, but the album the boys and I created is a masterpiece. It deserves to be heard. Years of blood, sweat, and tears went into its creation. I can’t let that much creativity be wasted.
This pains me to admit, but my deliberations prove what I’ve always known: no matter which path I take, I’ll come out of this deal a loser.
With Emily’s last class today being English Lit, I pull my truck into an empty spot at the front of the building her class is held in. When I jump down from my truck and round the hood, you have no idea how badly I'm itching for a hit of nicotine. Twelve months ago, smokes were my go-to when I was stressed. Now, I work through my agitations with a beautiful brunette whose skin smells as sweet as it tastes. Just the thought of Emily's lazy smile when I drag my stubble over the skin high on her thighs has my first smile of the day raising my cheeks.
It doubles in size when Emily pushes through the double doors of the building I’m loitering in front of. Her long, dark locks swish across her back when she notices me leaning on the quarter-panel of my truck. She races my way, as eager to see me waiting for her now as she was the first time I picked her up. I love that even though we’ve been together a little over a year, excitement still takes hold of my senses every time I see her.
Her vanilla scent engulfs me when she leaps into my arms to mash our faces together. After smothering my cheeks, lips, and jaw with kisses, she sucks in a massive breath before breathing out with a sigh. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you too, Beautiful.”
I show her precisely how much by sealing my mouth over hers. Our kiss is anything but innocent. If the wolf whistles surrounding us aren’t already a sign, the numerous requests for us to “get a room” are a surefire indication.
Emily’s lips rise against mine before she pulls back. She doesn’t care about the attention we’ve gained. She just wants to take our gathering somewhere more private.
She’s not the only one.
Although her dorm room is close, I assist her into my truck. Jacob’s house may not be the house I was raised in, but it’s my home.
I’ve barely pulled my truck away from the curb when Emily’s inquisitiveness gets the best of her. “Did you bring it?”
She's so excited, she can hardly sit still. She, along with the thousands of fans we’ve amassed on our Facebook page thus far, have been impatiently waiting the reveal of our album cover. Although social media won’t get it for a few more days, I promised Emily her own special reveal the instant it came off the press. It’s so fresh, the ink was still wet when I plucked it from our producer’s hand.
“Yep!” I give the P an extra pop, my excitement as palpable as Emily’s.
She has seen concept covers, but I’m dying to show her the final product. The creative director of our shoot wanted us to be as appealing as possible, which means we're all shirtless, wearing only jeans with the top buttons undone. We’re formed into a diamond pattern, and the guitar Emily gave me for my birthday is draped in front of me.
Emily’s eyes dart around the cab of my truck. “Where is it?”
I love that she's so excited, but I can’t help but tease her a little. It keeps things exciting.
It takes all of two seconds for Emily’s impatience to be announced. “Noah Gibson Taylor.”
I grin. She only uses my full name when I'm in trouble, which I'm pleased to say isn't very often. We don't fight. We've had a few misunderstandings fueled by jealousy, and the occasional disagreement about what movie to watch, but other than that, we have nothing to argue about.
That may change when she folds her arms under her chest with a huff, forcing me to bow out of my tease like a weasel. “It’s in the glove compartment, Emily Faye McIntosh.” I use her full name on purpose, knowing it will rile her up. Serves her right for being so impatient.
Emily doesn’t dislike many things, but the top two items on her hit list are indisputable. She hates being tickled and utterly despises her middle name. Faye is her grandmother’s given name. Emily swears she’s the meanest old cow you’ll ever meet, so she’s flabbergasted as to why her parents lumped her with such a hideous name. I think it’s cute, but I’ll never tell Emily that. I barely survived the last time she kneed me in the nuts. I’m not eager for round two.
A grimace screws up my features when Emily yanks open my glove compartment with so much force, I’m afraid she’s broken old Betty’s hinges. A little vein in her neck pulsates as she drinks in the recently printed cover.
“Yay! I can’t believe it's finally here! You look so hot!” I scold myself for getting jealous over a CD cover when she hugs it close to her chest. “How much longer until we hear your songs on the radio?”
Her question reminds me why my pits are sweaty even though it’s winter. “There’s a bit of a problem.”
Dust kicks up around us when I maneuver my truck into the emergency shoulder at the side of the road. Emily is great at hiding her true feelings, but only when I’m not looking at her. I can’t maintain eye contact and her safety at the same time, hence me pulling over.
After turning off the ignition, I twist my torso to face Emily. Even though she is frowning, she’s still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. “We met with a lady today... if you can call her that.” The snark in my tone can’t be missed. Delilah rubs me the wrong way. It’s still early, but I doubt we’ll ever have an amicable working relationship. “Cormack brought her onboard to look after Rise Up’s public relation matters.” I swish my tongue around my mouth, loosening it up for my next set of words. “She was extremely adamant that the band needs to remain attainable to its fans.”
Emily’s eyes bounce between mine, confusion filling them.
Recognizing I’m doing a poor job of explaining myself, I try a new tactic. I rip the Band-Aid off with one quick tear. “She wants the public to believe I’m single.”
Emily remains quiet, contemplating what I’ve told her. It doesn’t take her long to hear Delilah’s request in the same manner I did. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“No, Emily, God no.” Just the thought has me twisted up in knots. I couldn’t live a day without her in my life. “I’m not breaking up with you; that will never happen.”
I know without a doubt she’ll be my wife and the mother of my children one day.
When I seize her wrist to pull her to my side of the bench, she grips me tightly, as if she's afraid I’ll vanish. “I don’t understand what you're saying, Noah. I don’t understand what you mean.”
Explaining it for the second time doesn’t make it any easier to swallow. “They want to keep our relationship a secret, so the public doesn’t know we're together.”
My body slicks with sweat as anger from my meeting resurfaces. I can’t believe I’m even considering this. It’s not even confirmed yet, but I can already feel cracks forming between us. If that isn’t proof enough of what I need to do, I don’t know what is.
“I’m not doing it. I’ll tell them no.”
My hand slips from Emily’s back when she draws back to peer at me. “What happens if you refuse?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
I hate lying, but I’m not even sure I am. The Ice Queen said her terms weren’t negotiable, but was that just a threat, or something she plans to follow through with if I don’t conform?
“Will you lose your record deal?”
Once again, I shrug.
Emily calls out my deceit without a word seeping from her lips. Her head slants to the side as her brow cocks. She’s angry I’m coasting over important facts, but panicked about why I’m doing it. Usually, I’m brutally honest.
With a sigh, I murmur, “We may.”
When fresh tears loom in her eyes, she draws herself into my chest to hide them from me. I do
n’t need to see them to know of their arrival, though. The quiver of her lips on my torso tells me everything I need to know.
I hold her close for several long minutes, lost on what to do. Just as everything pans out as I’ve been planning the past six years, it’s close to being snatched away. And no, I’m not solely referring to my record deal.
After a few more minutes, Emily’s head pops off my chest. The weight on my chest eases when I spot her dry cheeks. Her eyes are close to bursting, but she’s given it her all to hold back her tears. “We can do this.” She nods like the ideas I see rolling through her head make sense. “We just can’t get married right now. But we will. Eventually. Won’t we?”
Her confidence plummets with each word, assuring me I’m doing the right thing. Fuck them and their record deal. I won’t let them break Emily’s heart.
“I’ll tell them no. We’ll get married like we’re supposed to. I’m not changing who I am so fans can live in a fantasy world.”
I expect Emily to be relieved, so you can imagine my surprise when her reply is on the other end of the spectrum. “No, Noah. I refuse to become your mother.” Her tone is firm and to the point. “When your dad gave up his dreams, it ate his soul. I won’t let that happen to you. You’ve worked too hard for too long to give up now.”
I agree with what she’s saying—my dad’s decision to leave his band was the beginning of his dreaded life—but our circumstances are vastly different. I won’t blame her like my dad blamed my mom. This isn’t her choice. It's mine, and I’m choosing her over the band.
“I can’t live without you, Emily; it will tear my life apart. It’s not your choice; it’s mine, and I’m telling them no.”
“I’m not your mother, and you will not force me to be her!”
Anger so black it almost chokes me curls around my throat when she pushes away from me. I’m trying to save us, yet she pulls away from me. What the fuck?
“I love you, Noah, but you're not giving up your dreams for me—”
“Then what do you want me to do, Emily?!” I shouldn’t be lashing out at her, but I’m so fucking angry, I’m holding on by a thread. “I can’t give you up, but you won’t let me fight for you either!”
I smash my knuckles against the steering wheel, my anger too intense to be dispelled with just words. After hitting it enough times my knuckles bust open, I throw my head back to suck in some ragged breaths. I feel like I’m being torn in two. Our record deal is everything I’ve been working toward for years, but now it sits dangling on a piece of thread because they want me to give up the one thing I crave more than anything: to be loved.
The throb in my knuckles transfers to my heart when Emily crawls onto my lap. She cradles my sweat-drenched head into her hands before weaving her fingers through the hair stuck to my temples. She soothes me as only she can, her silent affirmation assuring me I can have both her and my musical dreams.
She backs up her unspoken words with spoken ones. “You don’t have to give anything up.” She raises my head until our eyes meet. “We just can’t let anyone know about us.”
“I can’t keep quiet about you like you’re a dirty little secret.”
Her smile has my heart skipping a beat. “Why not? It will be fun. We’ve just got to be more inventive than we’ve been. We’re still getting married. It’s just on hold for a couple of months. Gives me more time to plan.”
“Em...” I try to say more, but I can’t. I still only have a very minute hold on the thread I’ve been clutching since Chris killed himself.
This kills me to admit, even more so since I hate talking about my feelings, but I’ve struggled hard with depression since Chris died. There were days when I didn’t get out of bed and times where I believed it would be best if I never did. If it weren’t for Jacob, I doubt I would have survived, so can you imagine the burden of a life without Emily in it? I’ve already lost so much, I’d never survive a third bout.
I run my thumb across Emily’s beautiful face before tracking it over her lips. They’re extra puffy from the number of times she has dragged her teeth over them. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
She nods without hesitation, proving what I’ve always known. Only the strong can drag the weak out of the darkness. She did it twelve months ago, and she continues to do it every day she’s mine.
Chapter 28
Emily
My heart stops beating as my pupils widen. I stare at the radio in Jenni’s pride and joy, certain I’m not hearing what I think I’m hearing. That can’t be Rise Up’s song “Hollow” blaring out of the speakers—surely.
When the tears the heartbreaking lyrics always produce well in my eyes, they snap to Jenni. She’s as stunned as me, her mouth gaped and her eyes wide. With a squeal, she yanks her car off the road before cranking the volume to the highest setting.
Only four weeks ago, I didn’t think this was possible. Noah was on the verge of letting Rise Up’s album sit on the shelf gathering dust. I’m so glad I talked him out of it.
I’ll admit, when Noah said the record label wanted him to appear single, I assumed he was breaking up with me. We have a great relationship, but he’s been working his butt off for a record deal for years, so it was understandable that my first thought was panic that his career was more important than me.
I had no reason to fret. Noah was ready to give up everything for me. His dreams, his career—even his band. Although relieved he proved without doubt I’m his number one priority, I couldn’t watch him throw away years of hard work. I love him too much to see years of his life wasted like his father. Trevor gave up his dreams for his girlfriend, and now he sits in jail, praying to be released so he can see the only son he has left.
I retaliated when Noah told me he'd tell them no, but that was only because I know how much he despises his mother. I’d never want him to look at me in the same light he does her. If he'd given up his dream, it would have killed his soul, and the depression he's kept buried the past seven years might have resurfaced. Not even I could see him through that.
Rise Up is incredibly talented, so it will only take a few songs before their fans grow more interested in their music than their personal lives. If we have to wait a few months for that to happen, that's what we'll do. I’ll wait a lifetime for Noah.
My thoughts revert to the present when Jenni grips my hand so hard, her French nails pierce my skin. She’s back home for the long weekend so she can join the festivities Noah and the band organized this weekend. Noah rented a cabin on the cliffs of Bronte’s Peak. He wants to get everyone together for one last hurrah before things get crazy. We were halfway to the cabin when Noah’s soulful voice filtered through the speakers.
Once lyrics about being left behind to face your demons alone fade into another song, I lock my moisture-filled eyes with Jenni’s. “They did it.”
She bites on the inside of her cheek, praying the sting of her teeth will stop her tears from falling. “They did it.”
With a waggle of my brows, I yank my bag from the floor to fetch my phone. I have to call Noah to tell him we just heard his song on the radio. I’ve been waiting for this day for over a year. My fingers fumble over the screen, punching in a number I know by heart, before I raise it to my ear.
Noah’s seductive voice rumbles down the line not even a second later, “Hello, Beautiful.”
“Hi—”
“Are you crying?”
While sweeping my hand across my cheeks to make sure they’re free of moisture, I smile. I love that he can read my emotions only hearing one teeny tiny word.
“I am, but I’m okay. They’re happy tears.”
He releases a deep breath in relief. I’m not surprised. He hates seeing me cry, which sucks since I’m a bit of a sookie la-la. “Jesus, baby, you scared me.”
My gratitude for his concern is audible in my voice when I shout, “I just heard you on the radio! They played ‘Hollow’—just now. Like two seconds ago. Can you believe it?!”
> When Noah’s chuckle barrels down the line, my heart squeezes. He has an important meeting this afternoon, so he couldn’t pick me up from school like he usually does. I missed the chats we have every Friday afternoon during our drive.
My spine straightens when Noah discloses, “We heard ‘Surrender Me’ on Monday when we were driving to the head office.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?!” I try to act mad. It’s all a ploy. I’m too happy to let anything dampen my mood.
“I wanted you to hear it yourself.” A rustle sounds down the line like he’s shifting foot to foot. “It’s more exciting hearing it by coincidence than sitting around, waiting for it to come on.”
This pains me to admit, but he’s right. Because I wasn’t expecting to hear his voice, the excitement was ten times more intense.
My ears prick when I hear an unfamiliar voice in the background, closely followed by Noah’s deep timbre. “I’m sorry, Beautiful, I have to go. I’ll call you once I’m done.”
“Okay, I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I wait for him to disconnect our call before lowering my phone from my ear. I angle my torso to face Jenni. She's also on a call. To whom, I don’t know, but she’s quick to shut down their conversation when she realizes I’m no longer distracted.
She dumps her state-of-the-art cell into the console before clearing away the tears slipping down her cheeks. I’m hoping they’re happy tears, but just in case they aren’t, I ask, “Who were you talking to?”
Confusion overtakes some of my happiness when she glances at me beneath lowered lashes. She seems torn, like she’s struggling to tell the truth. That’s a very odd response for her. She's usually so forthright, sometimes it comes off as blunt.
I’m pummeled with my third emotion of the day when she pleads, “You can’t tell anyone, okay? Promise me.”
The fear clutching my throat makes it hard for me to breathe, but I manage a squeaked, “I promise.”
Panic hits me like a hard blow to the chest. We never keep secrets from each other, so I’m beyond worried something is horribly wrong.