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

by Heidi Hutchinson

  But they all needed to take a breather before the next one.

  The next one was going to be a tad bit complicated, and they would need to multitrack it very carefully and in a certain order.

  Hannah could tell Sunshine was getting a little bored, so she called for a breather despite Johnny’s very handsome glare through the control window.

  But if she didn’t, it was possible Johnny was going to strangle Sunshine.

  She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to work with him full-time. The job had to come with a specialized butterfly net. The guy was all over the place.

  But she had noticed that if she kept him filled up on caffeine, keeping him focused was a slight bit easier.

  Just when she was considering following him, Sunshine came back into the live room with said guitar in hand. He plugged it in and gave a couple test strums.

  The song he began to play was more than a little familiar and Hannah started to nod along with it.

  She wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard Cat Stevens’ “Wild World” played as funk. But damn it sounded good.

  Though Hannah had always been a sucker for some funk.

  She began to slightly bounce on the piano bench and do a little beatbox with her mouth.

  Johnny stood up in the control room and stared down at them with wide eyes.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Nikki and Shawn rush in, grinning.

  Hannah stood up and bopped closer to Sunshine, who was clearly born to play funk.

  Sunshine began to sing the song, but he didn’t know the words. Though he tried. Laughing, Hannah began to sing with him to help him out. He faded out just as Shawn took a seat at the drum kit and came in with a beat. Nikki produced a tambourine.

  Something happened in that moment, both familiar and intoxicating. A particular anomaly she only experienced with other creatives.

  All three of them sang along with the chorus. Nikki harmonized with Hannah for the next stanza, and then it was just an all-out jam session.

  By the end, all of them were singing the chorus at the top of their lungs.

  But Cat Stevens had always had the power to bring people together.

  Hannah threw her head back and laughed deeply.

  These people.

  What a riot.

  Sunshine put the guitar down and went over to greet Shawn.

  “That kicked ass,” the artist told the younger man, causing him to blush.

  Shawn shot a shy look to Nikki, but the blonde wasn’t paying attention.

  But Hannah saw it.

  And it did something to her heart. A little stumble of awe and understanding.

  He glanced up to her and smiled more fully. “Hey, Hannah,” he said, careful to use the name she preferred. He picked up a guitar case he had put down when he’d gotten there. It wasn’t the one she was used to seeing him with.

  “Hey, Shawn.” She smiled at the younger version of Johnny and that weird feeling of familiarity hit her again.

  Was her memory trying to connect him to the Johnny of the past or of the present? It was all so foggy and disconnected. Like a smoke tendril quickly dissipating even as she grasped for it.

  “Guitar, drums, singing, is there anything you can’t do?” Sunshine showered the young musician with praise, grasping him by the shoulder and steering him to the stairs that led up to the control room.

  Nikki bumped Hannah’s knuckles with a fist and ducked out, headed back to what she’d been working on before.

  Hannah took a deep breath, the electricity from the previous moment still coursing through her body, making her feel tipsy.

  She sprinted up the metal staircase and joined the guys in the control room.

  “Why aren’t you at school?” Johnny asked Shawn sternly.

  Hannah exchanged an “Oh, shit” face with Sunshine.

  “It was a half day.” Shawn shrugged, unconcerned with Johnny’s inquiry.

  Johnny’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Hannah almost laughed.

  “Besides, you left this at home.” Shawn set a beat-up guitar case down.

  “It was a choice,” Johnny responded darkly.

  Shawn shrugged, the picture of teenage nonchalance.

  “You were playing it last night and I thought you might need it today.” He gestured to Sunshine and Hannah. “Looks like it’s a jam session right now anyway.”

  Johnny’s jaw ticked and Hannah could tell Shawn had overstepped. Whether it was deliberate or not, it was harder to discern.

  “Ooh, Johnny’s guitar,” Sunshine said eagerly, not reading the room correctly.

  Shawn knelt and flipped the locks. He lifted the lid and pulled aside the blanket that covered the instrument.

  Hannah recognized it from the night she had stormed into their home. It had been sitting in a stand, off to the side…

  The slither of familiarity crept further up her insides.

  Shawn lifted the guitar from its case and handed it over to Sunshine for his assessment.

  Sunshine sat down on the sofa and laid the Gibson across his lap. He tested a few strings, checking for tune.

  “I forget sometimes, you know.” He chuckled. “How it all starts with the simplest thing. With wanting to be a part of something that connects us. As people. Music and emotion are so huge.” He sniffed a soft laugh. “And I get to make it.”

  Hannah swallowed and her eyes darted to Johnny, who was already looking at her. Johnny crossed his arms over his chest and swiveled his chair away.

  Hannah was missing something.

  She could feel it.

  “She’s a beauty,” Sunshine admired, delicately plucking the strings in a vaguely familiar tune.

  “Johnny’s had it since high school,” Shawn supplied, taking a seat on the arm of the sofa. “You should hear him play. Most talented guy in the world.”

  “You wanna play us a lick, Johnny E?” Sunshine asked.

  “I don’t think anyone wants to hear that.” Johnny laughed it off.

  “C’mon, Johnny, show them what you were playing last night.”

  Johnny glared over his shoulder at Shawn. “That wasn’t anything. Just messing around.”

  “He must’ve been inspired or something because it’s not often I can get him to play Bowie.”

  “Bowie?” Hannah blurted, despite herself. Thinking about the slight Bowie-esque feel they had incorporated into yesterday’s work.

  Johnny glanced her way. “You don’t want to hear me play it.”

  It sounded like a warning.

  A personal one.

  For her.

  That familiar slither climbed higher and wrapped around her throat.

  “C’mon, I need it. A little break. You guys have been working me harder than I’m accustomed.” Sunshine handed the guitar over to Johnny. “We all played something to let off some steam. It’s time for the team leader to do the same.”

  Hannah felt trapped in a swirl of memory and dread. And instead of agreeing with Johnny and trying to hide from the moment, her curiosity took over.

  “Go ahead,” she encouraged.

  Johnny took the guitar…the way his fingers wrapped around the neck.

  He licked his lips and settled it on his lap.

  His black eyelashes fluttered in slow motion and he gazed at her for a beat that stretched on forever.

  The guitar strings reverberated through the quiet of the small studio setting, and something broke loose in her mind.

  It all came together, like a cloudy night suddenly full of stars.

  Johnny’s deep voice, blending with the guitar, the chipped paint on the base of the instrument, the lyrics…

  Maybe it had been there the whole time, like a perfectly ripe pear on a limb. It just needed a little shake to break it free.

  And Hannah was there to catch it with both hands, saving it from a bruised landing.

  She turned the memory over in her heart, unable to look away. Unable to respond.

  Johnny’s f
ocus remained on the instrument, and his voice both soothed and burned her soul as he sang her favorite song of all time: David Bowie’s “Heroes.”

  A song she hadn’t sung since…

  She remembered.

  All of it.

  The day she’d walked into the studio and had seen his beautiful face.

  The week of singing and writing and loving.

  The intensity and immaturity.

  The passion and insanity.

  Oh, God.

  No wonder he hated her.

  Silent tears traveled from her eyes down her cheeks as the words wrapped around her heart and mind, unlocking emotions and memories that seemed too beautiful to be hers.

  “I’ve never known anyone like you,” he whispered against the soft skin of her belly before placing a tender kiss there.

  His hands, strong and careful, traveled slowly from her hips to her ribs. He rested his cheek on the space between her breasts and she could feel his breath on her skin as it came back to normal.

  She threaded her fingers through his hair, soothing strokes, calming, comforting, intimate. His body cradled between her thighs, the heat they’d created cooling in the night air that came in from the open window. She wondered if anyone had heard her soft cries of pleasure as he’d found her again and again.

  Sex was something she enjoyed as frequently as she was able. With or without a partner, as long as she got hers.

  But it was rare to have a partner who craved her enjoyment as much as his own.

  Her heart pounded through her body and she pretended like it wasn’t fear. She shoved the terror to the side and focused on the warmth of his skin, the feel of his heartbeat against her belly, his breath cascading over her breast.

  She’d never known anyone like him either.

  But she couldn’t tell him that.

  Sometimes the truth was hard to say. She wished she knew why.

  A tear leaked from the corner of her eye and traveled slowly toward her temple and into her hairline.

  “Do you think good people know if they’re good?” she asked the dark.

  Johnny raised himself up onto his elbows and gazed at her. She glanced down, smiling at his tousled hair and beautiful eyes. He held eye contact and pressed a kiss to her chest, right between the valley of her breasts.

  Her heart did circles around them, chasing itself into exhaustion.

  He didn’t answer, but that was because she’d asked a question that didn’t have an answer.

  She hadn’t ever felt like a good person.

  But these moments in the dark with Johnny felt like she might be touching something good.

  Which meant it wasn’t for her.

  She rolled out from under him and went to the bathroom to clean up.

  When she returned, he had fixed the blankets on the bed and held them open for her.

  She paused, taking in the quiet stillness of the moment.

  And she allowed herself to feel safe.

  Just for this one day.

  She found his guitar in its case and crawled onto the bed, her back against the headboard. He shifted to sit beside her and she settled the guitar across her naked legs. The chill of the guitar against her breasts was a refreshing escape from the heat of her heart.

  His guitar hummed with the song she played, another singer between them. David Bowie’s words became a tether between their hearts, and as she sang to him, she felt him become threaded through her insides.

  “That was awesome. I always forget about that song. I wonder if I could get permission to cover it for a B-side feature or some—”

  “No!” Johnny and Hannah both yelled at the same time.

  Sunshine jumped in his seat.

  Johnny shot a look to Hannah, who ducked her head. Because everything was different now.

  Now she understood more of why he didn’t want her around, how uncomfortable he felt, why he tried to get out of playing the song.

  It was weighty.

  Like trying to push a mountain off herself.

  But Hannah had never been one to be overwhelmed by an emotion.

  If anything, she was more in control of her emotions than any other part of herself.

  Apparently, there was a downside to therapy.

  She inhaled slowly through her nose, held it for a count of four, and then slowly released it between her lips.

  Sunshine said something; Johnny replied. Shawn had a rejoinder; they laughed.

  She fixated on a spot on the floor and took another deep breath.

  And repeated it three more times.

  The discussion around her progressed, though she didn’t participate.

  Which was fine.

  First, she had to set aside the shame and regret and grief that the memory had brought with it. The breathing technique worked.

  It didn’t make the feelings go away. But it no longer felt like they were getting on top of her.

  She stood and rubbed her hands on her thighs. “I’m going to get something to drink. Anyone want anything?”

  “No, we’re good,” Johnny replied.

  Three sets of eyes watched her go.

  When she got to the lounge, she stood in the open fridge door, feeling the cold air against her face.

  Nikki was at the desk behind her, talking on the phone.

  Hannah blocked all of that out and just felt the air cool her cheeks and breathed carefully, getting her heart rate back under control.

  This was part of the deal.

  Healing, growing, changing.

  It required moments of reflection and awareness.

  Sometimes she didn’t get to choose when that took place.

  But she knew she would have space tonight after Piper went to bed.

  That’s when she would unpack this and let herself cry about it.

  Feeling much more in control, she turned away from the door and went to the cooler. She chose a bottle of water and returned to the studio.

  Johnny’s eyes came to her instantly. She sent him a soft smile, but that felt too intimate and so she averted her gaze and sat down by Shawn.

  “What do you think of that?” Sunshine asked her.

  “Which part?” She cracked the lid of the bottle and took a drink.

  Sunshine went into a rap that she hadn’t heard yet.

  While shining a light, I got fries on the side,

  I’m finding a lot to get by, I don’t mind,

  Exciting and trying, but these are the times

  Holy diving and thriving, man, you are my guy,

  Kind of like when you find out you’re the spy.

  She laughed, thankful for the lighthearted break in her thoughts.

  “I like it.”

  “We can put it right here,” Johnny said, having already made the adjustments on the board. The beat played back, and then Sunshine repeated the words again.

  And just like that, they were back to work.

  She stared at the call screen on her phone, straight up conflict happening at the forefront of her mind. Which wasn’t like her. Hannah found it easy to be decisive. Even if she made a wrong call, she felt good knowing it was something she had chosen and could therefore handle.

  But Johnny’s name on the screen of her phone had her frozen.

  She’d just finished yoga and was planning on meditating before going to bed.

  It was late.

  Too late for a work phone call.

  Maybe it was an accident. A pocket-dial perhaps.

  It stopped ringing, and while she’d expected to feel relieved, it felt more like disappointment.

  Before she had a chance to analyze that, her phone rang again. This time it was the doorman, Charles.

  “Hello?”

  “Sorry to bother you so late, Ms. James, but there is a gentleman here who is asking for you.”

  “We work together.” She heard Johnny’s voice in the background, and he sounded so disgruntled, she smiled.

  “Tell him I’ll meet him dow
nstairs in the lobby.”

  “Very good, Ms. James.”

  Instead of feeling worried that Johnny had determined where she lived, a thrill ripped through her.

  Followed by a warning bell.

  Thrills weren’t great, considering her history.

  Boring, bland, predictable.

  That was her sweet spot these days.

  She grabbed a large cardigan sweater—navy blue—and wrapped it around her, covering her gray sports bra. She slipped on her sneakers and grabbed her keys and phone.

  Piper slept hard. But if she woke up and Hannah wasn’t there, she’d call first.

  And it wasn’t like Hannah was leaving the building.

  They lived in a secure building with overlapping security features.

  One conversation downstairs wouldn’t put Piper in any risk.

  When she got to the main floor, she spotted Johnny almost immediately.

  He was gazing up at the architecture in the middle of the area. His hands on his hips.

  He was wearing gray joggers and a black hoodie.

  “Johnny,” she greeted, wrapping her arms tighter around her middle.

  He turned his attention to her, mouth open to say something, but then stopped when he saw her. His gaze moved up and down her person, his brow furrowing.

  “Every time I see you, you look different,” he grumbled.

  Self-consciously she touched her face and remembered she wasn’t wearing her glasses. After yoga, she’d let her hair out of its braid to let it dry before going to bed.

  She rolled her eyes and jerked her head toward a seating area where chairs and couches had been arranged into conversation circles.

  Choosing a large club chair, she sat down with her legs crisscross-applesauce style.

  Johnny chose the chair directly across from her.

  This hour of the day, the lobby wasn’t empty, but it also wasn’t bustling with activity.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. “And also, how did you know I lived here?”

  Johnny blinked up at the ceiling and made a noise that sounded like yet another growl.

  “As a suggestion,” she added, “if being near me makes you this unhappy, then don’t do it if you don’t have to.”