“That’s pretty crappy.”
“It was. But we managed. Whenever I visited him on tour, we stayed in most of the time. Anyway, I don’t know how much you followed the headlines concerning the bad a couple of years ago…” I hated this part of our love story.
“I didn’t. My research proposal was in the final round of trials before being put into actual practice, so I barely had time to sleep, let alone keep up with what was going on in the world,” Beckett answered.
“Well, when I first started getting sick, I didn’t think it was more than a cold or the flu. After the first bout, I traveled to Amsterdam to meet up with Dawson and the band for Valentine’s Day. Things were great.” I smiled at the memory of my time in Amsterdam.
“I’m with you so far,” Beckett’s voice drew me back before I could get lost in those happy moments.
“Anyway, when I got back, some photos of us were printed from my time there. The tabloids went crazy with speculation about what it meant having Dawson photographed with the same woman more than once. Then someone managed to get photos and… um… video of us while we were in our hotel room. It was humiliating for me. It created a lot of publicity,” I murmured, praying he wouldn’t ask for specifics.
“I can imagine.” He squeezed my hand, encouraging me to continue.
“Then the reporters somehow got my name and address. It was terrible for a little while. I couldn’t leave my apartment. But I couldn’t really dwell on it since my health was declining,” I explained.
“OK. I still don’t see how any of that would lead to a breakup between the two of you. You don’t think Dawson leaked the photos of you or gave your name to the press, do you?” Beckett asked, confusion evident in his tone.
“Gosh, no. But around the time I started getting really sick, Dawson stopped answering my calls and messages. His phone went straight to voicemail. He never called me back. Time passed. I got sicker. He got quieter,” I trailed off. I swallowed hard, forcing the lump lodged in my throat down.
“Then I saw some photos of him kissing another girl. That was when I knew it was officially over. The record label execs had gotten what they wanted—a single, carefree Dawson who every girl wanted to screw and every guy wanted to be,” I couldn’t disguise the bitterness or hurt in my voice.
Beckett scoffed and shook his head.
“What?” I asked defensively.
“I know I just met the guy. But I’ve followed LO since their YouTube videos from their garage in Ohio. And that just doesn’t sound like him. He doesn’t strike me as the cheating type. Maybe you should withhold judgment until you have all the facts. I mean, have you asked him what happened? In your conversations since you reconnected did you ask him why he disappeared? Hell, last night when you went backstage did you even talk to him about the important stuff?” Beckett asked seriously.
My cheeks heated in an intense blush at the very minimal amount of talking we did when I went backstage.
“No, I haven’t asked him yet. Our phone conversations since we reconnected have been superficial… trying to find our way through the weirdness. I mean I was in a relationship. It would’ve been a tad inappropriate to dissect the demise of my past relationship with my ex while still committed to someone else,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Fair enough. And last night?” he prodded.
“Last night, intermission was ending when I went backstage. And other than having a chance to tell Dawson that you left because you broke up with me, we didn’t get much time to have a heart-to-heart before I got the phone call from the gallery.”
Who was I kidding? Even if Charles hadn’t called, I wouldn’t have pressed Dawson for answers. I only wanted him. Thankfully, my conversation with my dear friend here had reminded me of how broken I was two years ago before I had a chance to let things get too far out of hand too quickly. A lot of things needed to be discussed before I could risk my heart again.
“So, don’t write off Dawson just yet. Give him a chance to explain. It is painfully obvious that the guy is completely in love with you and utterly broken without you. All you have to do is read his Facebook page to see it or pay attention to that CD he made for you.”
Internally I snorted. Dawson’s social media pages would be the last place I ever looked for truth about him. Once he signed with the record label, his social media accounts had ceased to belong to him. The PR team planted posts like seeds, watering them with just enough truth to make them believable. And the fans ate the fruits of their labor like manna from heaven.
“What?” It was Beckett’s turn to ask.
“I know you think a lot of Dawson. He’s like your hero or something. That blinds you a bit, so I’ll forgive you on that front. But Dawson didn’t fight for us hard enough. He let me go. He bowed to the label execs. Did what they wanted. Created the illusion or reality they demanded of a world-famous rock star. He should have fought,” I said, finding the anger I carried for so long.
“Isabelle, did you love him as fiercely as you thought he loved you?” Beckett asked.
“Yes. Of course. He’s my everything. Was my everything.” Still was my everything, even if he shouldn’t be.
“Then you didn’t fight hard enough either. You didn’t track him down. He’s famous. Every minute of his day is fodder for the press. You could’ve gone to him,” Beckett argued, surprising me. Why would he defend the man who owned my broken heart?
He was right. I could see it now. But a broken heart wasn’t a logical organ. It was a bleeding, dying entity, just struggling to beat. “By the time I realized things were really over, I couldn’t eat. My hair was falling out. I lost all that weight. My body was dying. And the photos in the tabloids of him with other women killed what was left of my heart. It was too late. At that point, there was nothing left to fight for.” I shrugged at my pitiful defense.
“And now?” Beckett pressed.
“Now, I don’t know. I guess I’ll see what happens. We’re at least working on being friends again. Maybe there’s more in our future. I guess I need to have a serious conversation with him so we can figure out what we are to each other and what we can be,” I reasoned.
Why did getting run over have to knock me out of the haze of bliss that Dawson’s kisses had put me in last night? It was so cold and scary out here in the real world.
“I have a question for you,” he said cautiously.
“Shoot.” May as well let him take his best shot.
“If I hadn’t ended things last night at the concert, would you have broken up with me?” Beckett searched my face.
“Honestly, I’m not sure. I thought about it. I really did. But knowing me, probably not. At least not for a while,” I admitted.
“Isabelle, why not? It’s obvious to both of us that your heart doesn’t belong to me, and that I’m not right for you. The real you,” he sounded exasperated.
“I couldn’t do that to you. I didn’t want to hurt you. You saved my life. You’re a great guy. Everything I should want.” A tear trickled out.
“I was your doctor before we were anything. So, my role in restoring your health shouldn’t have had any bearing on the longevity of our relationship. You aren’t obligated to me for anything, except to live your life,” Beckett explained.
Another tear leaked from my eyes.
“Isabelle, you’ve been coasting, letting life happen to you. And I know your illness was beyond your control. It happened to you, and you couldn’t help it. But there are so many other things that you have allowed to just happen or not happen while you’ve passively existed. Stop doing that. Live your life. Go after what you want. Life is too short. If you still love and want Dawson and can forgive the past, then go after him. Don’t take no for an answer,” he said fiercely.
“What if it doesn’t work out again?” I whispered. “How many times can a heart heal?”
“I wish I had the answer to that, Isabelle. I really do. But I’ll ask you this, and then we can talk about something l
ess heavy. What if it does work out this time? Isn’t it worth the risk to find out?” his voice was soft, yet the echo of truth in his words was resoundingly loud.
“Yes.” Maybe.
“Good. Now that’s settled, let’s talk about your upcoming show.” He settled back in his chair comfortably.
I was grateful for the change in subject. “What do you want to know?”
“How many pieces will you be displaying?” He seemed genuinely interested. In a way he hadn’t ever been before about my work.
“The number won’t be nailed down until we’re ready to start setting everything up. But I’m thinking around fifty.” I stirred the straw around in my ice water, wishing the cup contained Mt. Dew instead of water.
“Wow. I didn’t know you had fifty completed works of art to sell,” he said with a whistle.
“That’s only a drop in the bucket.” I laughed. If he only knew…
Beckett frowned. “That doesn’t sound like a hobby. Sounds more like a passion.”
“It is,” I said with a smile. At least, it used to be my passion. Like many pieces of myself, my art became a casualty of the implosion of my heart and health. But slowly, I was finding it again.
“So, what’s going to be your focal piece? I used the correct term, right?” he asked.
“Yeah. I still haven’t decided completely what my focal piece will be. I have two options that I’m currently creating. But I’m not sure which one is going to be the one,” I said.
“What are they? If you don’t mind my asking.”
That was such a loaded question. “Well, one is a series of images that chronicle my journey from death to healing and the people who helped me traverse that road.”
He nodded. “Sounds interesting. And the other option?”
“Well, that one’s more personal. I only started working on it after my parents’ party. It’s kind of a visual story of connections and the intertwining of two hearts,” I explained vaguely.
“Ah. I see. So how are you going to choose?” He steepled his fingers like he often did when he was thinking.
Frowning, I said, “I’m not really sure. I keep waiting for a sign that hasn’t come yet.”
“Which idea awakens the most passion in you? Makes you feel deeply?” he prodded.
“Umm—” I couldn’t tell Beckett the truth.
Our new status made the discussion too personal.
“You don’t have to answer yet. But whichever one makes you feel the most, that’s the one that will evoke the most emotion in the people who see it,” he explained.
“Knock, knock,” a voice called as the door pushed open. A bouquet of pink roses tied with a long red ribbon floated into the room, attached to a person who my heart both rejoiced and fretted over seeing.
Chapter 14
Dawson
I eased the door all the way open. My smile dropped for an instant when I found Beckett holding Izzy’s hand by her bedside. When her eyes lit up at my appearance, my grin slid smoothly back into place.
“Hey, man.” Beckett stood and stepped towards me with his hand held out.
I shifted the bouquet of flowers to my other hand and accepted his handshake. “How’s the patient?” I asked.
“Great. The doctor should be by with her walking papers soon.”
“That’s wonderful news.” I moved around to the other side of her bed. Her gaze followed my progress until I was by her side.
“Those for me?” she asked, her lips quirked up in a half smile.
“Unless Beckett’s favorite color is pink…” I held the bundle of blooms out to him across her prone form.
“You know, I’ve always been partial to blue. But that pink would really make my eyes pop, don’t you think?” Beckett asked me with a smirk. He reached for the cellophane wrapped flowers.
“Un-uh, mister. Those are mine,” Izzy said and intercepted the perfect roses. She buried her nose in their petals and inhaled deeply. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
The smile that had always possessed the power to stop and start my heart spread across her lips. It was my smile.
I sank down in the chair still parked on this side of the bed. “Where are your parents?”
It was as if she hadn’t heard me. The tip of her index finger touched each blossom, and her lips moved soundlessly as she moved that finger along. When she reached the bottom, her gaze darted to mine. Her eyes shimmered and filled. “Twenty?” she croaked out.
“Of course. It’s been two years since the last bouquet. Eighteen years plus two more equals twenty years that my heart has loved you,” I explained like it was as simple as two plus two.
A tear spilled and trickled down her cheek. “And the red ribbon…” she whispered to herself as she toyed with the satiny length trailing from the bottom of the tied stems.
I nodded.
“A sign,” she murmured, still staring at the flowers.
Beckett cleared his throat. “I’ve got to get going, so I can get some rest before I check in on my patients back home. I’m on call later. Isabelle’s parents should be back shortly. They just ran to grab some food.” His fingers reached out to smooth a strand of hair away from her face. Leaning over, he pressed his lips to Izzy’s forehead.
I clamped my teeth down on the inside of my cheek to keep from growling at him for putting his lips on her.
“Isabelle, I’ll call and check on you tomorrow. Make sure you follow the discharge instructions, and if you have any questions or issues, call me right away. No matter what time. I’ll always be there,” he said softly as he hovered over her face.
My teeth clenched harder. God, please don’t let them kiss. A slight metallic taste hit my taste buds.
“Thanks,” she said sincerely as she smiled up at him.
His gaze on her was intense. Something was on the tip of his tongue that he just wasn’t letting out. Yet.
My heart pounded with trepidation. Izzy swallowed hard and began to chew on her lip under the weight of his stare. I couldn’t read what was in her eyes, and it killed me. I’d always been able to read her, even back when she was a shy, little girl who guarded her heart.
Two years had created a chasm between us. A couple of kisses that said everything we felt, and a few honest declarations of love weren’t enough to fill the hole. Yet.
I just had to pray that time and circumstances would bridge the gap.
After what felt like an eternity, Beckett shook his head and took a measured step away from Izzy’s bed. A hundred things flickered across his face when he looked across her at me. “Dawson, it was good to see you again. Take care of her.”
“I will,” I said to his retreating form as he disappeared quickly through the door, closing it softly behind him.
♪ Iris by Googoo Dolls
My gaze dropped to Izzy. So many things simmered in her eyes.
“I’ll be right back.” I got hastily to my feet and moved into the hallway.
Once I was away from her door, I called out to him, “Beckett.”
He stopped but didn’t turn around right away. His head hung low. As I drew closer, he spun to face me.
Nerves and other unidentified emotions tied my tongue. He didn’t offer anything to help me out. I drew a deep breath and forced out the words I wanted to say, “Thanks for everything, man. I know this can’t be easy.”
“No, it’s not. This sucks in more ways than you can imagine,” he said, shaking his head sadly.
“You’re a good man. The kind she deserves,” I offered quietly, tucking my hands into my back pockets.
“Don’t get the wrong idea about me. I’m no saint. But I’m no masochist either. Am I in love with Isabelle?” he said.
His tiny pause seemed to stretch for an eternity. If he answered his question with a yes, was he going to tell me that he was prepared to fight to get her back?
He sighed. “No, I’m not in love with her. But given enough time, I would have been. Distance kept me from falling. Bu
t you kept her from it. She’d never be in love with me.” He rubbed the palm of his hand across his short hair.
“She cares a lot about you. I’ve known her forever… I can see it,” I offered, trying to soften the blow.
“I know she does. But her heart is yours. It has been for two decades. You have to fight for her. Get past whatever your hang ups are that have you convinced she might be better off or happier or safer without you. She deserves someone who will love her like she loves you and will fight for her.” His eyes were fierce. I couldn’t look away.
“You’re right. She does deserve that and so much more,” I admitted with a nod.
“That doesn’t sound like a commitment to fight,” he observed.
“I’m not making any hasty decisions where Izzy is concerned. Things got so messed up before. It nearly destroyed me. And from what I’ve gathered, Izzy didn’t fare much better. I don’t know that either of us would come out on the other side of another breakup.” I rocked back on my heels, unable to keep still.
“Fair enough. Anyway, I’ve got to get going. Take care. And watch out for her,” he said, glancing at his watch.
“I will. You take care too.”
Beckett turned and headed into the elevator. He waved as the doors slid closed. I needed to do some serious heart and soul searching. Just a few weeks ago, this was exactly what I wanted—a second chance with my first and only love. It was what I had dreamed of for the past two years. But now, her art had been destroyed, and she was in a hospital bed because of me.
A man clad in a white coat strode down the hall towards Izzy’s room. I covered the distance to her door quickly, wanting to be there when the doctor came by.
When I entered, her face lit up with hope and love. My cheeks hurt from the wide grin on my face, probably mirroring everything I saw in hers. All my misgivings drifted to the dark recesses of my mind, chased away momentarily by my personal sunshine. I’d think about all the warnings in my mind once some distance was between us and I could think clearly.
Songs of the Heart: Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series Book 3 Page 18
