Key Change: A Slow Burn Rockstar Romance (Common Threads Book 3)

by Heidi Hutchinson

  “Uh, okay.”

  Did she feel bad for snapping? Not even a little.

  Know why?

  Because he already disliked her! Besides, he was the one being rude about his assumptions.

  “See you at eleven, Johnny E.” She didn’t wait for his reply and hit “end” with her pinky.

  Fuck.

  Yes.

  This had gone from being a potentially terrible situation to being beneficial.

  All she had to do now was check with her therapist.

  Because she had questions.

  Hannah finished her info dump to her doctor and then stared at the floor.

  There was always this moment after sharing information where she felt completely transparent.

  As if Brenda was going to look at her and think she was full of shit and tell her to get out.

  Not because she was full of shit, but because she had become so accustomed to no one believing her.

  Which was what had made the transition to lying full-time that much easier.

  Because truth was subjective.

  People believed what they wanted.

  And it was usually based on their personal feelings on the matter and not on anything else. Like, say, facts.

  “How did being in the studio make you feel?” Brenda asked (not throwing her out, Hannah noted).

  Hannah’s lips twitched with the memory.

  “Happy,” she confessed.

  Brenda caught her eye. “And being happy isn’t what you expected?”

  “It wasn’t unexpected…” Hannah swallowed, trying to put into words what she was afraid of without saying it in a way that might get Brenda to raise her eyebrows. “In the moment, it felt amazing. I was a little dizzy. Like I was buzzed.”

  “Like with alcohol.”

  “Yeah.” She winced.

  “But you weren’t drinking.”

  “But it felt like it. I was…cocky, and smug, and…” She closed her eyes, remembering the feeling. “And I loved it.”

  “That sounds good, Hannah,” Brenda said gently.

  Hannah opened her eyes. “But it’s not. It can’t be. Also,” she added quickly, before Brenda said something too nice that shouldn’t be directed at her, “isn’t this entire thing wrong? I mean, from start to finish, this whole scheme feels…tenuous.”

  Brenda took in a slow breath. Something Hannah had picked up on pretty early in their sessions. It usually meant that Brenda had a lot of thoughts about what Hannah had just said.

  “Let’s start with the part where you called it wrong. Where’s the wrong?”

  Hannah’s gaze bounced around the room, wondering why it wasn’t obvious to Brenda.

  “Hannah,” Brenda called her back.

  “It’s too good to be true,” Hannah replied, matter-of-fact. “The fact that it’s good at all is…problematic.” She leveled her gaze at Brenda. “C’mon, Doc. You know. You know all the things. You’re a smart person. Nature corrects itself. I had a shot at happy and I fucking blew it. Now there’s a correction.”

  “Life isn’t so black and white. Everyone deserves to be happy. Look at what you’ve done for Piper. When you began sessions with me eighteen months ago, you weren’t sure you’d be able to make dinner. And now?”

  “But life with Piper is a different happy.” Hannah felt the sting of tears in the back of her eyes and she took a deep breath to silence it. “That doesn’t feel selfish.”

  Brenda nodded as if understanding just hit. “And enjoying music again feels selfish.” She added that to her notes.

  “Music is the epicenter of Earthquake Ashton.”

  “Was.”

  “What?”

  “It was the epicenter,” Brenda repeated gently. “What if this is a fresh start? New name, new city. A second chance, maybe.”

  “How do I trust myself to not wreck it? How do I—I mean, the fucking audacity, right?” Hannah swallowed hard and felt her jaw tighten. “How is it okay?”

  Brenda gave her a soft smile. “You have to give yourself permission to be happy, Hannah. I can’t do that part for you.”

  JOHNNY

  He would not look at the time again. He’d already checked it forty-five times in the past three minutes.

  The clock on the wall taunted him with an extra loud “tick.”

  He glanced up.

  Forty-six.

  He shoved to his feet and stalked down the hall to where Nikki was putting together an amp in Studio X’s dead room.

  She didn’t look up from her work.

  “What’s up, boss?”

  “Has anyone…” He scratched the side of his neck. “Called?”

  “Nope.” She smacked her gum.

  “Hey, Nik?” he asked, pretending to be distracted by a twisted cord on the wall. “You have anyone you could set me up with?”

  Another gum smack.

  “Nope.”

  “Nope?” he repeated. “What about that one friend of yours…Amy or Des?”

  “Babe, that was two years ago. Des is married now. Besides, I’m not getting in the way of true love. I’m not that stupid.”

  “True love?”

  She lifted just her eyes, annoyed.

  The front door opened and he looked at his watch.

  Why did she have to be on time?

  She wasn’t a different person and he refused to entertain that idea.

  He told himself that the jump he felt in his chest was anxiety, not excitement.

  Which, okay, maybe that was the opposite of healthy.

  But he was not going to be excited about working with her.

  She couldn’t be trusted.

  And he would do well to remind himself of that as often as possible.

  Hannah came around the corner in slow motion, her hair blowing back out of her face like a Charlie’s Angel.

  Spotted him and stopped, a perfectly bored expression on her face.

  “Waiting for me?” she asked, that smoky voice with a slight edge to it.

  Maybe her life circumstances had changed.

  But little else had.

  She could still make him stop breathing for a second.

  How he hated her.

  But all he had to do was get through a week of recording. And then he could hopefully put all of this behind him.

  He turned on his heel and headed back to the control room without a word.

  This was his turf. His home. His sanctuary.

  She would not corrupt it by getting under his skin.

  “I thought it might be helpful if I made a list of all instruments and equipment I’m proficient in. Though I may have to practice on a few of them to shake the dust off.” Hannah handed him a printed off piece of paper. She took off her coat and hung it on the hook along with her purse. Then she sat down on the biggest leather couch.

  Johnny chose to sit at the round stool near the soundboard.

  “Did you tell Dave, er, Sunshine, who I am?” she asked casually. But there was nothing casual about the sharpness in her gaze.

  If this was a test, she was going to be disappointed.

  “Nope. Didn’t even occur to me.” He laced his fingers together behind his head and leaned back. “In fact, I tried very much to discourage him from you at all.”

  “Good.”

  The relief evident in her expression caught him off guard.

  “That’s great,” she said, sounding bored again.

  He tried to shake off the glimpse of humanity he saw in her. Again.

  “Okay, a few things. I can be here as early as eight, but I need to be home in time to make Piper dinner. That’s a must-have.”

  “Fine. That should be easy. What’s your going rate?”

  Her lips twitched. “Just your silence.”

  He was uncomfortable with that but didn’t expect anything different. For a brief moment he thought about digging the check out of the file where he’d tossed it, giving it back to her again.

  “Also, no drugs or alco
hol in the studio if I’m here. That’s a nonstarter.”

  “It’s a studio rule, so that won’t be an issue.”

  She grimaced. “Just the same. I want it to be stated.”

  “Fine.” He sighed heavily and rolled his neck to crack it. “I don’t like this.”

  “I know,” she replied, a hint of smugness in her tone. She turned thoughtful, and then, “I won’t do anything to wreck this for you. I…” She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “I remember what it was like. To have a shot. I won’t mess this up for you.”

  “You mean again?” he said before he could stop himself.

  She sat up a little straighter and studied him carefully.

  “Again?” she repeated, her eyes searching his face.

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” he grumbled.

  “But it was said, so let’s talk about it,” she offered reasonably.

  Nope. He didn’t like that.

  He propped his ankle on a knee and held on to his calf. “I don’t trust you at all,” he stated firmly.

  If he thought she’d flinch, he shouldn’t have held his breath.

  She nodded, waiting for more. As if not being trusted were the same as liking the color blue.

  “Do you want to tell me what I did?” she asked calmly.

  “Why? You don’t even remember me.” Old hurt burned inside his gut and he pushed it aside with familiar anger.

  She pushed her glasses to the top of her head and rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. She took a deep breath and clasped her hands in front of her with a nod.

  “You’re right. But it’s not your fault that I don’t remember. There’s a lot.” She rolled her eyes at herself. “I have an entire life of ghosts just waiting to jump out and ruin my week.”

  She bit down on her bottom lip and gazed soberly at the floor.

  “If you’d rather not say, that’s within your right. But maybe it would be cathartic, for you, if you tell me why you’re mad.” She raised her eyes to his and he could see how difficult this was for her. “You won’t find an argument from me.”

  Johnny wasn’t sure what to think of that. On its face, it seemed too easy. She was so matter-of-fact about it. But there was a genuine remorse laced through her tone that he was mad at himself for noticing.

  “I played on your first album.”

  Her expression turned inward as she tried to access what he was referencing. Testing its truth.

  “We hooked up that week.” That was the part he hadn’t told Shawn. Or anyone. “And you told me I would get to come with you on tour.”

  Her eyes moved rapidly over his face as she tried to find a thread of memory. It hurt that she didn’t remember. It felt like another rejection. He hadn’t even made an impression that could be triggered with reminders.

  “And then”—he raised his eyebrows—“you got me fired.”

  Her face went slack and she stared at him.

  “I got you fired?” she repeated in a whisper.

  “Yep. I had one more day of recording, and when I got to the studio, your manger was waiting for me. He told me that you said I was harassing you and asking for money, and he fired me.”

  Her head jerked to the side, her expression deeply troubled.

  “It took a while for me to get work on another project.”

  The rest of the story didn’t involve her, so he stopped talking. He’d done all right for himself and he knew it. He’d worked hard, fought for it, and now he had something better anyway.

  Didn’t mean he forgave her, though.

  And it sure as hell didn’t mean he trusted her.

  She took a deep breath, her eyes tracking to the floor.

  They sat together in silence for several minutes.

  In that time, Johnny realized that saying it out loud had done something. It alleviated a pressure he had been carrying around.

  For so long he’d been carrying around this massive secret that he couldn’t share because it would be wrong to do so.

  But saying it to the person who had caused the wound in the first place?

  It felt weird.

  Good weird.

  She’d been his first real heartbreak. Not because he was in love––he hadn’t been. But he’d loved the idea of being with someone so fascinating and creative. And the future she’d promised was more than he’d ever dreamed in his life at the time.

  Getting fired shattered more than one dream at a time.

  And he never saw her again. Never got to ask her why she said those things or what he had done to deserve it.

  Until now.

  “No wonder you hate me,” she said calmly.

  He didn’t argue.

  She sucked in a breath. “I hate me too.”

  “Maybe you can understand why I’m less than comfortable with my life being in your hands once again.”

  She offered a sad smile. “I also get why you want me to stay away from Shawn.”

  Again, he didn’t respond because it wasn’t needed.

  She might not remember what she’d done, but she understood the consequences of it.

  Something about that actually helped him heal a little bit.

  “You’d have every reason to throw me to the wolves,” she pointed out quietly.

  “I’m not that person, though,” he said. He thought that would be obvious. He’d had every opportunity to sell his story over the years and he never even considered it.

  “I’ve always had good taste in men.”

  Her casual response raised his eyebrows.

  She noticed and rolled her eyes. “Like that’s surprising. Look, Johnny, I know my word is less than nothing. I have no delusions that this will grow to be a buddy cop comedy by the end. But I would very much like to make up for ruining that shot for you years ago. I will do my best. You can have all of my remaining talent at your disposal. Wring me dry. And when it’s done, I promise to bow out.”

  “You don’t have to do this. I won’t tell anyone you’re here.”

  “Clearly we have trust issues. Interestingly enough, I’m the source of that for both of us. So let’s call this mutual insurance.”

  He bit down on his bottom lip. It made sense. Except that he would always feel like she had the upper hand simply because he hadn’t been lying—he wasn’t that person. Airing someone else’s dirty laundry wasn’t in his arsenal and he had no desire to add it.

  So her secret would always be safe with him.

  And he would never feel safe with her.

  HANNAH

  It wasn’t often she craved the foggy release of a bottle of wine and a long drive.

  One time, years ago, she’d stolen her manager’s car and tried to drive it to Seattle.

  The boredom of the interstate and a couple bottles of wine caused her to fall asleep whilst driving.

  She’d woken up in an empty field, still behind the wheel. Thankfully, she hadn’t hurt anyone.

  Some would say at least she hadn’t hurt anyone else. But she never counted herself. She wasn’t a victim. She was a scared little bitch without any self-control.

  Her revealing conversation with Johnny had triggered an emotional free fall.

  She had two choices as she saw it.

  She could fall right back into the bottle and lose everything she had fought so fucking hard for. Or she could call her sponsor.

  “Hey, Josh,” she said when he answered. “You gotta minute?”

  “For the record, knitting was your idea.”

  Josh ran his heavily tattooed hands lovingly over another bundle of yarn, and Hannah eyed him suspiciously.

  “Yes, but you were the one who got excited when I mentioned it.”

  “Knitting is cool. Don’t hate.”

  Hannah held up her hands in surrender.

  She was glad she’d called Josh. She wondered if she’d ever reach a point in recovery where she wouldn’t need that touchstone. Would uncomfortable and painful conversations ever not make her want to
run away and hide?

  The yarn store he had told her to meet him at was actually in the main entrance of the building where she lived: Mad About Ewe.

  Josh had met her at the entrance. With his studded leather jacket, ripped jeans, shaved head and visible neck tattoos, he seemed a man out of place. But he greeted the owner of Mad About Ewe with familiarity and then showed her through the store.

  He helped her pick out all the beginner supplies she would need. They checked out with their purchases and walked down the street to get coffee at a café.

  As they sat in public and drank their coffee, Hannah finally began to relax.

  “I wish I had a better hold on myself,” she confessed among their benign conversation.

  Josh nodded in understanding. “You have more than you give yourself credit for.”

  For some reason, hearing Josh say that had more of an impact than when Brenda said it. Maybe it was because he’d been there. He understood the shitty reality of addiction and recovery and the fucking awful blackness that wanted to swallow her whole.

  “And to think, it all started because I wanted to have fun.”

  “Too much of a good time,” he added with a knowing smile. He scrolled through his phone for a moment and then set it down. “I sent you a few tutorials to get you started. Knitting can be your go-to when the mood hits. And if you need to talk to someone while you’re knitting, just call.”

  “All I can do is all I can do,” she reminded herself.

  “You got this,” he reassured with conviction.

  “Thanks, Josh.”

  “So, what do you think you’re going to make first?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe a hat?”

  Chapter Six

  Trouble for Me

  JOHNNY

  “What’s going on?”

  Johnny jumped at the sound of Shawn’s voice behind him. He slammed the top of his laptop closed and winced.

  “Dude. Were you watching porn in the living room?” Shawn asked with disgust. “This is the family space, remember? It was your rule.”

  Johnny glared at his younger brother. “No, I wasn’t watching porn.”