There’s a link attached. Dread fills my gut as I click on it. The celebrity gossip site loads, but I can already guess the topic.
SEAN WILLIS STEALS FORMER DRUMMER’S GIRLFRIEND FOR HIMSELF . . . AND MARRIES HER!
The article, poorly written and mixed with what I assume is a mixture of fact and fiction, also includes a few photos of the band at a charity event. There I find a candid of Sean and Coy, the former drummer, arms around each other like they’re the best of friends, followed by a few photos of Jess with Coy and then Jess with Sean. She’s attractive, but the intense, almost sad look in her eyes would keep me at a distance. Then there’s the photos of Sean and her in the backyard. Before I can read much further my uncle sends another message.
The Devil: I can see you took our talk to heart. I expect an update soon.
Within seconds another image comes through, but this photo isn’t linked to a website. I don’t know where the hell he got it, but I know exactly when and where it was taken. Opal’s caught mid-step, those fucking boots and short skirt just as sexy as in person. I’m at her left, my hand behind her as if I’m about to touch the small of her back. The radio station. I should be irritated at the intrusion of privacy, but seeing the two of us together, it looks as if we’re a couple. God, how I want us to be a couple.
The Devil: See you in Boston. I expect more.
My uncle’s message is the only reminder I need. As much as I’m interested in Opal, I can’t go there. Each time we’re together I learn something new about who she is. About her past. I can’t exploit her, but my uncle will force my hand.
Unless . . . maybe I could find a way to keep my uncle off my back, and Opal to myself? If I push for a little more about why she’s here and what she’s hiding, I could protect her. My uncle doesn’t need the truth. As long as I give him something, he’ll leave me alone. It’s a win-win. I get to keep the gig and get the girl.
Okay, so my plan isn’t altruistic in the least. But I like her. I want her.
Shit.
I haven’t been this twisted up over a girl, since . . . ever. Never have I ever been this into someone. It’s reason enough to leave her alone. I don’t need to complicate my situation. I’m here to play drums. For the rock star experience. And that doesn’t include a girl.
Only, I can’t turn back what we’ve started. She’s already worked her way inside my heart. I’ve shared things I’ve never trusted anyone else with before. She’s good. Not in a superficial way. But in that deep-rooted virtuousness very few people possess. There’s no way I could cut her out of my life, not after today. Fuck.
When did things become so complicated?
21
Opal
After dinnerwe all share a ride back to the bus where Jay’s waiting and ready to go. The engine idles with a soft rumble and once again we’re back on the road. I should be tired. It was a long day, but after everyone turns in for the night I can’t turn off my mind. I try. Climbing into bed, I lie and stare at the top of my bunk for a good hour before I give up.Why can’t I sleep?
Grabbing my notebook and the stack of letters I hold dear, I slide quietly out of bed. Everyone else is passed out and I’m not looking to change that. I pad over to the kitchen table and slide into the corner of the bench seat. The light overhead brings enough illumination to write without straining my eyes.
Untying the ribbon that binds the letters together, I lay them out on the table and count them. Ten. Ten letters. Ten moments of my father’s life and love for my mother captured with pen and paper. Ten remembrances to prove I was created from love.
Would he have wanted me? Did my mother tell him? This I’ll never know, but I do know she went home to Destin to have me. Becauseshewanted me. That has to count for something. A shiver runs up my spine and goosebumps rake up my arms as my heart pangs. I never got to know the warmth of my mother’s embrace. I was only days old when she passed. At least she held me before she died. I try to find peace in that knowledge, but it’s never enough. Because I still long for her touch, wish I could remember her face, and want to be loved.
Biting back a sniffle, I reach for my favorite letter of the bunch and pull it out to re-read the romantic note. I don’t need to—the words are memorized from how often I’ve read them, but there’s something about my father’s handwriting that connects me to the man I never knew.
He really loved her.
When I get to the end of the letter my heart blooms with love; the words mean even more now that they’re inked on my skin.
Wherever I wander, you’re always with me.
Moisture pools in my eyes and leaks down the sides of my face, but I don’t wipe the tears away. Words flood my mind in sync with the feelings that churn inside. I whip open my notebook, turning to a blank lined page, and drop everything into those spaces. Hurt. Longing. Need. Love. Everything rushes from my mind in tangents and short phrases.
“Hey, you.”
I gasp and jump at Leighton’s voice, my heart leaping in my chest. “You scared me!” I whisper and slam my notebook shut.
His gaze drops to the mess I’ve made on the table.
Hastily, I gather the letters and shove them into a pile at my side. I’m not ready to share these, with him or anyone. “Can’t sleep.” I feel the need to explain why I’m up at this hour.
He nods, his stare cautious and careful as if he might spook me more than he already has. “Mind if I join you?”
I glance at the table and shrug. “Sure.”
