“Of course, honey. Just have a seat, and someone will be out to talk to you when we know what’s what.” The woman turned and quickly headed to the back of the clinic.
Tessa turned, hands fisting around the sweatshirt I’d given her. “He’s so tiny.” A shudder wracked her body.
“Why don’t you put that on,” I suggested, pointing to the item in her hands. “You’re cold.” It was silly to focus on that when I knew she was so worried about her little friend. But this was something I could fix. Something in my control when so much else was out of it.
She nodded and slipped the cotton material over her head. There was a weird tightening in my chest when I saw her wearing my clothes. There seemed to be a rightness about it. I was officially losing it.
I shook my head and gestured towards the chairs in the waiting room. “Let’s sit. Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?” Fuck, I sounded like a worried mother.
Tessa picked a chair in the empty waiting room and sat. “I’m fine.”
I glanced at the other empty chairs.Is it weird if I sit next to her? Weirder if I don’t?I went for it, lowering myself into the chair on her left.
Silence filled the room, the only sound the ticking of the second hand on a wall clock. I flipped my phone between my fingers, spinning it in circles.
“How do you do that and not drop it?” Tessa’s voice almost made me drop the phone. It was the first real question she’d ever asked me, the first conversation she’d initiated, even if it was because we were in forced proximity.
I chuckled. “I’ve been doing it forever. Guitar picks, drumsticks, phones. Whatever’s around. My hands like to stay busy. Hell, I’m pretty sure my mom put me in music lessons to keep me from destroying items in her house.”
“It worked, apparently.”
I glanced in Tessa’s direction. Her cheeks were rosy against her creamy, white complexion. Peaches and cream, that’s what she was. I cleared my throat. “It did. I became obsessed. It was rare I was ever more than arm’s length from my guitar.”
She nodded, studying me with a thoughtful expression. “You really love it, don’t you? Making music.”
My mind flashed back to her watching me play for Noah. “I love most of it.”
A tiny furrow appeared in Tessa’s brow. “What do you mean?”
I continued twirling the phone between my fingers as I tried to think of a way to explain how I felt about it all. “The thing I love most is the creation. A concept can come to me in a million different ways. It’s never exactly the same. Sometimes, it’s a melody running through the back of my mind. Sometimes, it’s a lyric that jumps up out of nowhere. Sometimes, it’s a feeling that I’m doing my best to capture.” It had been so long since I’d felt the pleasure of creating like that. My label’s restrictions and requirements pressed down and stifled any creative joy I might have had.
A wistful smile took over Tessa’s face. “That sounds magical.”
“It is.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “What don’t you like?”
That pressure clamped down on my shoulders, but I forced a chuckle. “What don’t I like? I don’t like the kind of box my label is forcing me into. I don’t like the paparazzi hounding my every move, and the media making up ludicrous stories. I don’t like that whole world.”
I’d never actually said any of that out loud before. I’d always been aware that it would make me sound like a pompous ass, ungrateful for everything I had been given. I met Tessa’s gaze, afraid of the disgust I might see there.
There was only understanding and empathy. “You probably feel like every move you make will be scrutinized. Always afraid you’ll make a mistake, and there will be hell to pay.”
My eyes widened just a bit. Tessa got it. “That’s it at the core.”
Her gaze drifted away. “That’s no way to live.”
“No, it’s not.” I leaned back in my chair. “But it’s been nice here. People pretty much leave me alone.” Well, other than that Bridgette chick, but I was sure she’d gotten the message now. “The fans that do come up to me don’t post photos. No one even knows I’m in Oregon. It’s a miracle.”
Tessa played with the strings on my hoodie. “I’m glad you’ve gotten that here. Sutter Lake is a pretty special place.”
I watched the flickering light from above play over her face. God, she was gorgeous. “It is pretty special.”
Footsteps squeaked against the linoleum floor, and both Tessa and I got to our feet. An older gentleman wearing scrubs and a medical jacket rounded the corner. “Hello there, I’m Dr. Maroney.”
I reached out to shake his hand while Tessa just nodded. “What can you tell us?” I asked.
Dr. Maroney’s face grew somber. “I’m afraid the little guy has been through the wringer. I think he might have been hit by a bike or even clipped by a car. I’ve stitched up the wound on his back, but I’m afraid the break on his leg is going to require surgery.”
