by Bella Jewel
Scarlett nods happily.
I wrote out the music, and she tried and tested it, loving it, but it’s hard for me to fully get an idea of what she’s wanting without hearing it. When I sing it, I can hear it, and I can feel it a whole lot better. That was mostly how I became so familiar with her style, by playing and singing her songs over and over, until I knew them like the back of my hand.
I close my eyes and start playing, letting the music travel over me. Then I sing to myself, getting a feel for the song, trying to understand exactly what it is she feels it’s missing.
“Burning, oh, like a flame. Burning, oh, untamed. Your heart trapped mine, there before the sunrise, and it took me so long, oh sweetheart, so long, to realize … that you were my fire, my whiskey, my burning desire.”
I know what it’s missing, the moment I stop singing and my eyes pop open. “It’s the last verse! My fire, my whiskey, my burning desire. It needs to be higher, it needs to drag out a little more. At the moment, it’s too slow.”
I hold Scarlett’s eyes, and she’s just staring at me. Face blank. Oh, God. I’ve offended her. I glance at Isaac, he’s staring at me, too. Great. I’ve put my foot right in it. I never meant to upset her. Did my words come out too harshly? Quickly, I try to correct my mistake. “I’m so sorry, Scarlett. I wasn’t trying to be rude, or offensive. I don’t know anything about music, at all, and—”
“You can sing.”
I read the words on her lips so clearly, but they still confuse me all the same.
“Pardon me?”
“You can sing?”
Her hands raise up, and she claps, over and over, then runs over, pressing her hand to her mouth for a moment, before leaning forward and putting her hands on my shoulders. “Amalie, you can sing! Why didn’t you tell me you had such a breathtaking voice?”
I do?
I’ve never sung before, well, I have to myself but everyone sounds good to themselves. Piano has always been my passion. I’ve never once thought about singing. Maybe she’s just being nice. Scarlett would think anyone sounded good if she loved them enough.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “No, I can’t sing.”
“You can sing! That was … incredible! The way you sung that, the way your voice captured those words. It came out exactly how it sounded in my head and now I know why, because it’s inspired by your music. You wrote that to the version in your head, and I just heard it and I loved it. But what I loved more is that you can sing! And you’re incredible!”
I shake my head, cheeks rosy. “Honestly … no …”
“Isaac,” Scarlett says, and we both look to Isaac.
He nods, eyes still on me, intense. “You can sing, Amalie. Outside of Scarlett, that is the best damn voice I’ve heard in a very long time, and music is my life.”
They’re just being nice. Right?
I can’t sing.
Can I?
The door opens and Susan walks in, followed by another one of the producers for the album, Steve. Susan’s eyes fall on me, and she smiles, which is rare for her. “Well, Amalie, I have to say I’m blown away. You hid that incredible talent very well.”
“You have a beautiful voice,” Steve tells me.
Scarlett rushes over to Susan and starts rambling something to her. I watch them, their conversation quick, flinging back and forth, and then finally Susan nods, pulls out her phone and leaves with Steven in tow. I rush over to Scarlett. “What did you just do?”
She grins, big, strong, proud. “I just asked her if we can record a few songs together, with both of us singing, on the album. It will add a fresh new spark, something incredible. She is going to speak to my label and the producers, and see if they’ll allow one or two songs to incorporate you and your voice, as well.”
I stare at her. “But … I can’t … I can’t sing.”
“You can, Amalie.”
“Not professionally. Scarlett, I can’t hear myself as well as a normal person. I wouldn’t know if I was singing right, or wrong, I’ll just make a fool out of myself and ruin your album.”
I’m rambling.
Because I’m nervous.
I play the piano. I don’t sing.
“Amalie, listen to me,” she says, hands on my shoulders, brown eyes locked on mine. “You feel music. You feel it right into your very soul, and that’s why when you closed your eyes and sang then, you didn’t miss a beat. Because you trust yourself. You trust music. And you trust how it feels. You won’t let me down, you could never let me down. If they agree, can you just try one with me, just try it? If we hate it, it doesn’t have to go on the album. You will still be playing for me, but please, will you see if we can do this?”
I stare at her, my best friend, and I know I’d do anything for her.
What’s wrong with trying?
I swallow and nod. “Okay, I’ll try, but Scarlett, if it doesn’t feel right, please don’t push me.”
“I promise! Oh, I’m so excited!”
She leans forward and hugs me, and I return it, smiling at Isaac over her shoulder.
My life just took somewhat of an unexpected turn.
It seems to be doing that a lot lately.
And I’m not sure I mind.
~*~*~*~
AMALIE – NOW
“Bikers.”
It’s the first word Caiden says to me when I step into his tea room later that afternoon. I’m on cloud nine after hearing Scarlett’s label is willing to hear a song if we put one together and consider it for the album. I thought nothing could take away from my mood, but the second I step in here, a dark cloud hovers, and I know instantly my mother has been speaking to Caiden and his mother.
“Pardon me?” I ask him.
He glares at me. “I’m in here, stuck, with nobody and you’re out there, screwing around with bikers!”
Damn my mother for this.
How dare she?
She knew exactly what telling Caiden something like this would do, and yet she chose to do it anyway. Because she gets some sort of satisfaction out of bringing me down, out of hurting me. I can’t even trust my own mother. That hurts, deep.
“I’m not running around with anybody, Caiden. They are protecting me after my attack. That’s all.”
“Then why did one come and pick you up, upset your mother by telling her off, and then proceed to put you on his bike and ride off. That isn’t protection. Are you a biker whore now?”
I flinch.
“Stop it. What I do is none of your business. You’ve made it clear you don’t care about me, so why do you care what I’m doing?”
“I always knew you’d never find better than me. You don’t deserve better than me, after what you did. But you could have at least had some respect. I’m in here suffering, and you’re having the time of your life. Going on tour, riding around with some bad ass biker. Does it make you feel good, to know I’m trapped while you are flying free?”
He knows he’s hurting me. He knows it, and that’s why he’s doing it.
He’s poking me right in my sore spots.
“I can’t even get a job,” he sneers. “You can pursue your dreams, but I can’t.”
“I know,” I say softly. “I know, and I’m sorry, Caiden. You know that. I’ve told you that a thousand times over. You know I am never going to forgive myself for what happened to you, but you could get a job, you could get out there, you’re choosing not to.”
Wrong thing to say.
I know it the moment it leaves my lips.
His face goes red and he starts yelling, angrily.
“I’m choosing not to? I’m choosing not to? I look like a fucking monster. I can’t walk on the best of days. I’m stuck here, living in depression, alone, fucking scared and you’re out there enjoying your life and making yourself feel better by coming here. Does it work, Amalie? Does it make you feel better?”
“Stop it,” I cry.
“Do you sleep better at night? Knowing I’m in here, but you
visit me daily so that makes it okay? Does that ease your guilt?”
I clench my eyes shut, taking a deep breath. Don’t do this, Amalie. Don’t let him do this.
I open my eyes and try to stay calm. “You’re angry. This isn’t the best time for me to be here.”
“I hope every fucking time you look in the mirror, you see this—” He jerks a finger to his face. “I hope it haunts your dreams. This is all your fault. You ruined my life. You fucking ruined me. I hope your boyfriend’s cock is making you happy. Think of me next time you’re on his bike, think of what you fucking did!”
He’s screaming so loudly his mother has come running into the room. She steps in front of me. “Get out of my house. And do not come back.”
Tears are rolling down my cheeks, but I do as she asks. I turn, and I get the hell out of her house.
I run to my car and get away from there as fast as I possibly can. I don’t know where I’m going to go. I don’t know what I’m going to do. My mind is spinning. My heart racing. My stomach turning. I’m panicking, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt that desperate emptiness that makes me feel like curling into a ball and giving up.
My vision is blurred from my tears, and I’m crying so hard no sound is coming out. I’m scared. I know that I’m at a point where I just can’t take much more. I need an escape. It’s afternoon, I still have a few hours, so I drive toward Scarlett’s ranch. I hope she’s there, but at the same time I don’t.
I don’t know if I can hold it all in any longer.
When I arrive, there are a few bikers hovering around, as they always are. The caretakers at first didn’t like it, but I think they’ve come to enjoy their rowdy company. I slip out of my car, and I’d try to stop the tears, but there isn’t a great lot of point. They’ll know I’ve been crying the moment they see me. I park my car right at the barn and get out.
I know Scarlett has some nice horses. She also has a lot of land. And I need to clear my head. I grew up around horses, I know them, and I’m not afraid to take one out. So, that’s exactly what I do. I climb out of the car and walk into the barn, glancing at all the horses. Scarlett told me they’re all placid, so I go to the closest one, a grey gelding with big, brown eyes. He leans over right away for a nuzzle, and I know he’s the one.
I find a saddle, a bridle, and then I get him out and get to work. One of the bikers on duty, Mason, comes in when I’m halfway through. He’s probably in his mid-thirties somewhere, and, like the others, is incredibly good looking, in a quiet, scary kind of way. He’s rougher around the edges, with a jagged scar running down his cheek, and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen on a man. Sometimes, in the right light, they could be mistaken for a bluish kind of silver. He has long dark hair that is braided down his back. I’m not sure of his heritage, but his looks mesh together in a way that is striking.
“Hi, Mason,” I say to him when he stops and places a big, thick hand on the horse’s rump.
It doesn’t flinch.
“Amalie,” he says, holding my eyes. “You goin’ for a ride?”
I nod. “Yeah. Is Scarlett here?”
He shakes his head, eyes narrowing. “You sure you’re in a state to go for a ride?”
I swallow. “I had a hard day, but surely it’s safe to go for a ride here? I won’t go far, just into the big paddock for a stretch. I can ride, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Can see that,” he tells me, eyes flicking to the horse then back to me. “You’re tackin’ it up like some sort of pro, but it is nearly sundown …”
“Please, Mason. I won’t go far. I won’t be more than an hour. Haven’t you ever needed to just clear your head? You know that feeling your motorbike gives you? That’s the feeling the horses give me.”
He doesn’t smile a lot, but his eyes do lighten a touch. “When you put it like that, can hardly argue. Okay, but for the love of my balls, get back on time.”
“Thank you.”
He stares at me a second longer, then turns and leaves. He walks out and I continue my mission tacking the horse up. When I’m done, I find a helmet and a pair of boots and lead him out. I wave to Mason as I move to the big paddock and open the gates. My heart is beating so wildly, a mixture of anticipation and pain from earlier. I can’t wait to let this horse loose in the paddock and forget the world for just a moment.
I climb onto his back after I’ve locked the gate and walk him around for a while. He’s obedient and does everything I ask of him. Feeling more confident, I push him up into a trot, moving him around in a figure-eight and a few circles, warming him up, before I decide it’s time to stretch his legs. I aim him toward the paddock that rolls on for miles, and I give him a good kick.
He’s responsive and jerks into a canter right away.
My pain is taken away and I smile for the first time in hours. I inhale the cool air that brushes across my face and let my lungs expand and pull, taking it deep into my body. The horse, who I have decided to name Silver for the day, gets faster and faster. Moving from a canter into a gallop. We fly down the paddock, and I feel exhilarated. Like nothing in the world could touch me.
Now I know why those men rely on their bikes so heavily.
This kind of freedom is hard to find anywhere else.
When I reach the end of the paddock, I look back up. The house is nothing more than a tiny speck in the distance. My heart is racing, my body pumped, and I don’t want to turn around and go back. I glance around. Scarlett told me there are hundreds of horse trails through her property. She made sure of it. So I jump off Silver and open the gate, stepping out to where the land becomes endless.
Nothing is fenced in.
I climb back on and we take the closest trail to the paddock. It starts just waving through some thick trees, but slowly the terrain gets a little thicker. The wind is soft, and the view is incredible. In the distance, above the trees, I can see mountains. Lush mountains. I close my eyes a few times, gently breathing in deep. Slowly, my body unwinds and I’m able to think again for the first time.
Silver rears.
It comes out of nowhere, like a flash of lightning. I lurch forward when his feet hit the ground again, but instantly he launches back up. Then he starts going backward, snorting, prancing from side to side. I hang on and my eyes dart around. He is frightened of something.
“Whoa, boy,” I tell him, trying to soothe him.
He flicks his head from side to side and from the corner of my eye, I see a furry animal burst out of the bushes and dart across the track. I can’t see what it is, it moves so fast, but it’s enough to send Silver into a craze. He backs up faster, and I pull his reins, turning him around and deciding to get him the hell out of there. He’s obviously not used to trails. I start trying to lead him out when he rears again, this time so hard I go backward.
I land on the ground, flat on my back, crying out in agony as my already sensitive body hits the deck. Silver bolts, disappearing out of the trees before I can do anything to stop him. I cry out, but it’s no use, he’s a horse. He’s hardly going to stop. I try to push up, but my body is in agony. I’m winded and can’t breathe. I don’t know if anything is broken, or if I can even walk.
I start to cry, fear and panic mixing in my body and exploding forth. I lie there like that for a while, crying, desperate to make it all go away. And then I pull myself together. I have to try and get up, and I need to get out into the open, because if I stay here, the sun will set and I’ll be stuck. The terror I’d feel, being out here alone at night, not being able to hear, would be the end of me.
I’m sure of it.
I roll to my side, trying to push up, but the pain in my ribs is excruciating. I done a fair bit of damage to them when I was taken by Trey, so they’re already sensitive. And my ankle is throbbing, which makes me think I’ve twisted it. Still, I grit my teeth and push up into a standing position, crying out as I put pressure on my foot. Yes, definitely twisted. I glance down, and it’s already swelling.
&
nbsp; Not good.
I wonder how far down this path I actually travelled. I’m starting to think it was a whole lot longer than I realized. I can’t see the exit from the trees, I can’t see Scarlett’s paddocks. My heart races, and I take one agonizing step after the other, hopping as much as I can, although every time I do, my ribs cry out in protest.
It’ll take me well into the night to get back up to the house at this rate. I can only hope someone will notice me missing. Mason knows I’m out here, surely he’ll alert someone when I haven’t returned in a few hours. I hope Silver is okay. Will he run home? Will he be waiting down the track further? I really, truly hope he doesn’t go in the opposite direction and get lost, or worse, injured.
I’d never forgive myself.
And I really don’t need any more of that right now.
Guilt.
Shame.
I keep walking, and with every step, the sun slowly starts lowering on the mountains, making it just a little darker with each passing second. If I can, at the very least, get to the outside of this trail and back into the paddock, at least I know I’ll be safe. In here, outside of the fences that protect the paddock, anything could happen.
And when the sun falls, I won’t hear anyone calling out to me.
I won’t hear them.
And I won’t be able to see them.
Two of the most important things will be stripped away from me.
I have to get out of here.
Fast.
-7-
MAVERICK
“What do you mean she isn’t fuckin’ back?” I bark at Mason, who is staring between Scarlett and me.
“She said she was just ridin’ down into the paddock, wouldn’t be more than an hour. It’s been three. Haven’t seen or heard from her. Thought you would want to know.”
My heart lurches.
The sun has just disappeared, bringing on night, and Amalie is out there, alone, with a horse, and hearing that is going to make it fucking hard for her to know if danger is lurking.
“Why would you let her out on a horse alone?” Scarlett demands, throwing her hands on her hips.
