I put on some light makeup and the lavender perfume Beckett had given me for Christmas. After slipping my feet into a pair of flats, I deemed myself ready enough.
I opened my door, determined to get through the evening unscathed. The air shifted the minute I stepped out of my room.
He was here.
I didn’t have to see or hear him to know he was downstairs. It was like my body was still attuned to his. Quietly, I crept down the stairs. Mom’s voice floated up from the kitchen. My ears strained as I listened for his voice.
I didn’t have to wait long. The melodious sound of the rich timbre that hadn’t filled my ears in so long was like a sucker punch to the gut. I sank down on the step to revel in it for just a moment. I listened for the tell-tale sound of a groupie giggle or other grating sound that would come out of the mouth of his date, but none came. It seemed just he and my mom were inside.
Gathering every ounce of courage I’d ever possessed, I got to my feet and strode into the kitchen. At first only my mom was visible, working at the counter.
♪ Faraway by Nickelback
For a brief second, I thought he must have slipped outside until a soft voice came from behind me, “Flutterby.” One word, three syllables, nine letters was all it took to shatter all the locks I’d spent the past two years securing around my heart. Sucking in a lungful of air, I slowly spun around. That air whooshed out of me immediately at the sight of him.
Dark jeans encased his long legs. They weren’t tight, so his muscles weren’t visible—but I didn’t have to see them to remember them. I’d felt every inch of his body on mine, beneath mine, in mine. I didn’t have to see to recall. As much as I’d tried to erase him from my heart and memory, this one instant proved that I’d failed miserably. His blue T-shirt hung loose and hugged his biceps. His fingers were tucked into his back pockets, just like he always did when he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands.
My eyes traveled up to his face. God, he was beautiful. He still stole the air from my lungs, even after all this time. The butterflies flew in a riot inside my stomach, ready to lift off and fly away with my heart to deliver it to him. Traitors.
In that moment, I hated butterflies with a passion. His eyes were still the same—the color of whiskey and filled with the same kaleidoscope of emotions I’d seen in them countless times before. We stood frozen, staring at each other.
“Daw.” I sighed.
The door opened behind him, and another face I never thought I’d see again entered the kitchen.
“Izzy,” Brooks’s silvery voice said.
I couldn’t stop the tiny grin that spread across my lips.
“Brooks,” I said with a laugh.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He stepped around Dawson’s rooted form to envelop me in a warm hug. “I’ve missed you,” he mumbled in my hair.
“I’ve missed you too,” I whispered, forcing back the tears which threatened to spill from my eyes. “So, you’re Dawson’s plus-one to my parents’ party?” The relief that filled my heart spilled out into my smile.
“Yeah. Hope you don’t mind.” He smirked at me.
“Never.”
The sound of a throat clearing made Brooks drop his arms from around me. Dawson scowled at him.
“Uh… Your mom sent me in to grab a platter,” Brooks stammered.
I hadn’t even realized she’d slipped out the door.
“Cabinet over the stove,” Dawson directed.
My heart lurched—he still remembered where things were kept in my mom’s kitchen. Once Brooks retrieved it, he went back outside without a word, just a backward glance at us.
Alone again, I couldn’t keep myself from looking at Dawson. He untucked his hands and held out his arms. An invitation.
Could I accept it? What would it feel like to be in his embrace again?
I had to know.
I stepped into the space between his arms and allowed him to wrap me in a hug. The first easy breath I’d breathed in two years flowed in and out of my lungs. Peace settled over me like a blanket.
My arms snaked around his neck, and my face settled against the crook of his shoulder, which felt like it was made just for me. His hands rested on the small of my back, pulling me flush against him. Being in his arms felt as natural as breathing. He still smelled the same—like leather and spice. He still felt the same—like love, like home.
♪ When We Were Young by Andy Black and Juliet Sims
“Izzy, it feels so good to hold you again,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
My heart thudded violently against my chest, demanding I admit how good it felt to be held by him again. But I couldn’t force the words out. They were locked behind the lump in my throat. Thankfully.
Finally, I pushed myself back from him, but kept one arm around his neck. Tilting my head slightly, I peered up at him. My fingers traced the stubble on his cheek then tangled in his longer than normal locks.
His calloused fingertips ghosted across my face, memorizing everything about me. Then he tugged on the ends of my hair.
At the same time, we both said, “Your hair…”
Then laughter bubbled from our lips, shattering the worst of the tension between us.
“You first,” he offered with the smile he’d only ever given me.
My heart stuttered in my chest seeing it up close and personal again after only experiencing it in my dreams for the last two years. My mind hadn’t done it justice.
“You let your hair grow out. On your head…” My fingers ran through his wavy locks. “And on your face,” I said as my palm rubbed the scruff on his jaw. It was a new sensation. One that sent heat rushing south and filled my mind with naughty thoughts.
His jaw tensed beneath my touch. “Yeah. Well, for a while there… I… uh just didn’t care. I kind of let things go. So, I didn’t let the stylist cut my hair as often. And I’ve learned that the scruff helps me go incognito while I’m not on tour. My ability to go to a store has gotten increasingly difficult. This helps.” He shrugged as his fingers rubbed the scruff on his other cheek.
Pursing my lips, I examined the changes in his appearance. “I think I like it.”
He smirked at me, gently tugging the hair still captured between his fingers. “You’ve changed too. I haven’t seen your hair this short in… Wait, I don’t think I’ve ever seen your hair this short. And it’s been forever since I’ve seen your natural color.”
I swallowed hard. I knew I should tell him about what I went through. But I wasn’t ready yet. Maybe I could gloss over it.
“It has taken forever to get my hair this long again. When I underwent treatments, one of the casualties was my hair. Me bald… now that took some getting used to. Bald works for some people like Vin Diesel, Sinead O’Conner, that bald chick in Doctor Strange. But it didn’t work well for me,” I joked in a whisper. I cleared my throat. “Anyway, once it finally started growing back, I’d lost the desire to express my creativity with hair dye.” I shrugged.
I didn’t offer that I’d lost my desire to express my creativity almost all together. Or that color had left my life. There were a lot of fatalities from my illness and heartbreak.
♪ Consequences by Camilla Cabello
He looked crestfallen. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I had no idea what you’d gone through. If I had known, I—”
I pressed my fingers to his lips. “You couldn’t have known. And my hair was a small price to pay to stay alive.”
I’d never tell him that there were moments during the whole ordeal when my broken body on top of my broken heart really made me wish for the fight to be over.
His mouth shuddered beneath the skin of my fingertips. His lips were soft and warm just like I remembered. I pushed down the desire to press them against my own.
The door creaked open, shattering the intimacy that had shrouded us ever since we’d laid eyes on each other again. My hand dropped instantly. Guiltily, I looked to see who’d come in.
/>
Beckett.
“Hey, sweetheart. Dawson,” he greeted us. Dawson stiffened in my embrace. Awkwardly, I stepped out of his arms.
“Your mom sent me to check on the potatoes.” He smiled at us, completely unaware of the tension and emotion crackling between me and Dawson. “Brooks has been entertaining me with tales from overseas. I just can’t imagine the life you’ve lived, Dawson.” He donned a pair of oven mitts as he talked to us over his shoulder. The metal pan screeched against the oven rack as he pulled it out of the cavern of heat, filling the room with the smell of the spice rub my mom always coated her baked potatoes in. “These smell so good. I’m starving. How about you guys?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled. “Does Mom need help with anything else?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got this. You keep catching up with Dawson. Two years is a long time to not talk to your best friend,” his voice held a slight tone of reprimand.
Was he really scolding me for cutting off contact with Dawson?
Beckett carried the pan of potatoes outside to the patio, leaving me and Dawson alone again. The awkwardness and tension could’ve been other living entities sharing the air with us. The atmosphere from earlier had been shattered by the Beckett-sized intrusion.
“I really am sorry I wasn’t here for you when you were going through everything. You have to know I would’ve cancelled the tour.” His eyes were so sad.
“I know. That’s why I told your dad not to tell you. I couldn’t let you ruin your life for me.” My smile was weak but sincere.
His hands balled up into fists. “That was my choice to make. You were my life.” His body vibrated with emotion.
“Daw, I can’t do this now. I’m sorry I didn’t get word to you. I did what I thought was best. And initially, I did try to get in touch with you. I needed you. But…” I shook my head. There was no need to go there now. “Anyway, I never meant to hurt you.”
Reaching out, he grasped my wrist and tugged me to him. My chest collided with his, and he enveloped me in his comfort.
“Let’s not be mad. Too much time has gone by without you in my life. I missed you so damn much,” he whispered against my hair.
♪ Whatever it Takes by Lifehouse
I could not do this. But I needed just a few more seconds to last me another few years without him. “I missed you too.” I squeezed him tightly. “But we really should get outside before they come searching for us.”
Reluctantly, he dropped his arms. “You’re right. Come on. I’m starving.”
The laughter and commotion outside shrouded the strain that was blooming between me and the one who used to be my everything.
I settled into the spot next to Beckett like a dutiful girlfriend, putting me across from Brooks. Dawson slid into the empty space beside Brooks. I wouldn’t be able to lift my eyes without crashing into the vision of him across from me.
Beckett pressed a kiss to my cheek. “I’m going to try not to embarrass Isabelle by gushing all over you guys. But I have to say, I’ve been a fan of yours for so long. I watched your YouTube videos from the beginning, and I went to many of your shows in the bars and clubs around New York while I was in med school at NYU. I never imagined I’d be sitting across the table from you. Your first single was killer.”
“It’s always a pleasure to meet a fan who knew us before we made it big. Did you know that Izzy actually helped me write the chorus to our first hit?” Dawson offered with a smile.
I shook my head at him. I couldn’t believe he told Beckett that.
“No way! That’s awesome,” Beckett prattled, staring at me in awe.
Dad interrupted any further gushing with, “Steaks are ready. Come and get ‘em.”
Beckett stood and pressed a kiss on top of my head. “I’ll fix your plate, sweetheart.”
“OK,” I agreed while noting Dawson’s face, a cross between curiosity and a frown.
A few minutes later, Beckett settled my plate in front of me. My gaze dropped, taking in a steak I was sure my dad had cooked just the way I liked it. Next to it sat one of my mom’s potatoes cooked to perfection. In the center, there was a small dollop of butter, not as much as I would like, but at least he let me have some. A sprinkling of cheese and a dash of pepper completed my potato. He’d also put a helping of potato salad and one of pasta salad. He plopped the bottle of bar-b-que sauce down to my left.
Everyone soon gathered back around the table and started to dig in. Taking a bite of the potato, I closed my eyes and moaned in appreciation of the heaven that was Mom’s spuds. It was so good, even without the extra butter and salt that I longed to put on it.
“I see you’re using less butter these days,” Dawson remarked.
“She has to be more mindful of her diet ever since her illness,” Beckett offered.
Dawson nodded thoughtfully but didn’t comment.
“So, Izzy, when did you quit coloring your hair funky colors?” Brooks asked.
“I haven’t dyed it in a long time.” I shrugged and took a sip of my water.
“You used to dye your hair funky colors?” Beckett asked.
I nodded.
“Oh man, she used to have rainbow hair. I can’t think of any color I haven’t seen Izzy put in her hair,” Brooks said.
He and the other guys had even made a game out of betting what color I’d show up with next.
“Humph,” Beckett grunted like he couldn’t fathom it.
“Hang on. I’ll show you.” Brooks dug his phone out of his pocket and tapped on the screen for a few seconds.
Triumphantly, he held up his phone. There on the screen was a photo of me with one of my wildest dye jobs—a rainbow of pink, yellow, blue, green and purple—my arms draped around Dawson and Brooks after a show.
“That’s some hair, Izzy,” Brooks teased.
I laughed. “I think it was my favorite color experiment.”
“It was certainly… colorful,” Beckett offered.
Silence descended for a long moment. The only sound was the scrape of forks against ceramic plates.
Kimberly, Michael Anderson’s girlfriend, finally cleared her throat, breaking the hush. “So, how did you guys manage to deal with those two being best friends through all the pitfalls of puberty? My parents would’ve had a coronary if I’d had a best friend who was a boy.”
“We wouldn’t have been able to keep those two apart even if we’d wanted to. But we never worried,” my dad said.
“Oh, gosh. Do you remember when they both came home and asked us what sex was?” Mom chuckled.
“Mom!” I gasped and buried my face in my hands, completely mortified.
“How old were they when that happened?” Kimberly asked, unaware of the sheer embarrassment I felt.
“Eleven, I think. Let’s see, Dawson asked Michael when he got home from school, and Izzy asked me while I was fixing dinner,” Mom said.
“I was stunned. I mean sex ed wasn’t supposed to happen for a few more years,” Michael chimed in.
“Dad, do we really need to rehash this?” Dawson pleaded in that little boy voice he always used when he wasn’t getting his way when we were kids.
“Oh, yeah we do. I’ve got to hear this,” Brooks said with a smirk.
“After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I asked Izzy where she’d heard about sex. And she said some kid at school asked her and Dawson if they were sneaking off to have sex,” Mom said.
“Sue got right on the phone and called our house. After the four of us had a pow-wow, we decided to sit them down together and explain everything,” Michael added.
“How embarrassing for you, Izzy,” Kimberly commiserated.
“You have no idea,” I grumbled.
“Yeah, once they explained everything to us, Izzy and I couldn’t look each other in the eye again for weeks.” Dawson chuckled as he caught my eye.
“It’s just biology. I don’t see anything wrong with you guys telling them the facts at that age,” Beckett offered, eati
ng another bite of steak.
“That’s the doctor in you talking,” I spoke up.
“True,” he agreed.
“Anyway, that was probably one of the most embarrassing conversations I ever had with my parents and with Dawson. Thank goodness, we moved beyond it eventually,” I said, hoping to end the conversation.
An awkward silence settled around us, punctuated only by the sounds of eating and the clinking of ice in glasses.
“So, on the way into town, I got to listen to what I wanted to on the radio while Isabelle slept—” Beckett started.
“Still get carsick?” Dawson interrupted.
“Yeah,” I answered quietly.
“Anyway, I was able to listen to HITS 1 on XM radio instead of Isabelle’s country station. And I heard rumblings of you guys doing a handful of secret concerts. Is that true?” Beckett asked hopefully.
“You heard right. We’re doing three—the three places members of the group consider home. South Carolina, Ohio and LA. But that’s top-secret info. Don’t tell anyone,” Brooks confirmed.
“Oh wow. When will tickets go on sale? I’d love to get a couple so we can come when you guys have your South Carolina show.” Beckett was so excited by the prospect that he practically vibrated in his seat.
“We’d never make friends of the band pay for tickets. I’ll hook you up,” Dawson offered.
Beckett’s jaw fell open. I’d never seen him look anything less than composed, but in that moment, he was stupefied. “Really?” he croaked.
“Really, dude. Unless Izzy can’t tolerate a night of rock music anymore,” Dawson taunted, his brow quirked up in challenge at me.
“W-well…” I stammered.
“Isabelle, you have to go. These guys are your friends. It would be rude not to,” Beckett pleaded with me.
“Fine. And I’ll have you know, I still like all genres of music. It’s just that country has been more suited to me lately.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I scowled at Dawson.
“Sweetheart, when was the last time you saw LO in concert?” Beckett asked, his fingers toying with the hair at the nape of my neck.
Songs of the Heart: Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series Book 3 Page 2
