by Tina Saxon
“I’m sure there are millions of wings and music notes out there. I promise, I won’t hold you responsible for not giving me a one of a kind.” He glances over from the cash register, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he nods.
I eye him for a beat before Addie and I leave; the bell dinging behind us as we walk out onto the street. “Is it me, or was he hiding something?” Addie is the queen of reading situations. I’m usually the one that tells her she’s imagining things.
“Definitely hiding something.”
I inspect my tattoo again, making sure he didn’t add anything. It looks exactly like the drawing. I shrug, not giving it too much thought. So what if someone else has this? They won’t have the same story behind it, that’s for sure.
Chapter Nine
Sydney
I tap on the door lightly with my knuckles, a small part of me hoping he’s not here. Blowing out a breath when I hear noises on the other side of the cream-colored door, I get ready to face Max. Folding and unfolding my arms, I settle with them by my side. My stomach flip-flops at the sight of him. He stands tall, holding onto the door and stares down at me.
“Hi,” I say, my voice barely a hushed whisper.
“Hey.”
I sigh from his lack of words. “Can I come in?”
After two quiet awkward beats, he nods and pushes the door open. He stays quiet as I walk under his arm and shuts the door behind me. The couch in the living room is an ugly light orange color with two yellow chairs next to it. When I found out where he was staying, it surprised me it wasn’t a higher-end hotel. I sit on the stiff orange cushion and watch him swing a kitchen table chair into the room, sitting on it backward.
“Why are you hiding out?” And in a shitty hotel like this? I keep that thought to myself. Now isn’t the time to bring up his terrible choice of hotels.
“You’re fighting your demons, Tink. I’m fighting mine.” He looks away from my questioning expression.
“I guess… I’m your demon then?” I swallow, surprised by his words and reaction.
His lips crack a small smile and he shakes his head. “No, you are definitely not a demon.”
“Then what is? Talk to me, Max.”
For every time he’s been there for me, I’d like to think I can return the favor.
He pops out of his chair and takes quick strides to the fridge, grabbing a beer out of it. As he leans against the counter, his gaze finally meets mine. “The idea of you. Of us.” His fingers run through his hair haphazardly and my thoughts go back to when my fingers did that. Dammit, Sydney. Stop. It’s been two years since we’ve been together. And now a river of guilt that flows over a dead man runs between us. Words have escaped my mind. Deep down, I wondered if I was the reason Max was staying away this week. Yet, here I am, questioning him. Punishing both of us when we can never be.
“I couldn’t do it,” he responds, pausing for a quick drink. His arms straight as boards as he leans against the counter and drops his head. “Even knowing how your absence was killing Addison, I still couldn’t tell her where you were. I’m a selfish bastard because as soon as I told her, she would have dragged you home, and I’d be right back where I was when you left me in LA.”
Nervously, I lick my dry lips, unsure I want to know the answer, but I ask anyway. “Which was?”
He looks up, the raw hurt glittering in his blue eyes. “Broken from guilt.”
I shove off the couch and move toward him. The counter divides us and I grip the edge. “Max, you did nothing wrong. Why did you feel guilty?”
“Someday I might tell you, but not today.” He downs the rest of his beer and slams the empty bottle on the counter causing me to jump at the sharp sound. When he passes me, I reach out, grabbing his arm, halting him. The air grows thick with desperation. Frustration. Uncertainty.
He stares down at my wrist, the tattoo shiny from the ointment and his jaw tightens. “Sydney.” The unspoken demand to let go should frighten me, but it doesn’t. I squeeze tighter in defiance.
“Don’t walk away,” I whisper. His bicep twitches. It was the wrong thing to do. I should have let him walk away. Why do I keep doing this? The uncertainty of us doesn’t need to be defined. Not now. Not ever.
It can’t be.
He finally lifts his gaze from my wrist, meeting mine. In a quick spin, he has me pinned against the counter; the edge digging into my back.
“What do you want from me, Tink? Does knowing that I dreamt about your glacier blue eyes every night make a difference? That I owned you. That you owned me. That my dreams became my worst nightmare because you weren’t mine, you were one of my best friend’s fiancée? That I wished it was me instead of him, you said I love you to? And now he’s not here, I’m drowning in guilt because I. Still. Want. You. I can’t compete with a ghost. Nothing I say will make this right, so please, tell me what you want to hear.”
His forehead rests on the top of my head, his emotions vibrate through my body. The erratic beat of my heart pounds against my chest, making me question why. Is it from his words or my guilt?
I swallow, my words barely a whisper. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He shoves off the counter and walks away, taking my vulnerability with him, annoyance taking its place. “You made it clear we were a one-night stand, so where is this coming from, Max?”
He told Damon we were nothing. It hurt at first, but I dealt with it. We were two friends who got together after an emotional night. Even though I saw his jealous looks, I pushed them aside, thinking he wanted me because I was with Damon. Screw that. I wasn’t about to entertain his brooding ways because he changed his mind after the fact. It was too late.
Max lets out a humorless laugh, pointing to himself. “I made what clear? Tink, I’m not the one who said it was nothing. It was anything but.”
“What are you talking about? When Damon asked me out, I didn’t want to say yes because of you. When he told me you gave him your blessing, saying we were both drunk and you couldn’t even remember it, I didn’t see a reason to say no anymore. In fact, it pissed me off so much, I said yes in spite.” I never told Damon that, but he knew.
He falls back into the cushioned yellow chair, throwing his head back, talking to the ceiling. “And here I was, heavy with guilt for having feelings for your woman. Asshole.” His words aren’t for me, so I stay quiet. He lifts his head and blows out a breath, meeting my gaze. “I never said that.” I narrow my eyes in confusion. “I could never forget the night we spent together. I didn’t know what to do. I’d never experienced that intense need for a woman, it scared the hell out of me, so I didn’t call you. When Damon said he had asked you out, and you said yes, I had lost my chance and it was my own damn fault. He wanted to make sure I was cool with it.” He runs his hands through his hair again and groans. “What was I supposed to say? If you wanted something more, you would’ve said no, so I told him to go for it.”
I should’ve said no.
At least he’d be alive.
I back into the barstool, sitting, stunned by his words. Only, they’re a couple years too late to act on. I can’t be mad at Damon for what he did. At least he took the initiative to go after what he wanted.
“It’s my fault he’s dead.” The words slip out before I can stop them. Heat courses through my body as I admit the one thing I’ll never forgive myself for. Max sits forward, his head tilts like he’s trying to make sure he understood me correctly. You did. I wring my fingers together and cast my eyes down. I need to get this out and since we’re airing everything else, I might as well finish. “Right before he left, we got into an argument.” I close my eyes momentarily as the tears burn. “The last thing he said to me before he walked out was ‘I’m not Max’.”
Max’s body stills as he stares at me. He doesn’t look like he’s breathing as my chest heaves to catch my breath. “Why would he say that?” His eyes flicker across my face searching for answers.
“God, I hated you.” I cover my eyes with my hands, emba
rrassed I’m saying this out loud. “You unlocked something inside me. There was always something missing when I was with a man. Until you. You made me feel like I’ve never felt before. I craved that feeling again.” I sigh, ashamed that Damon wasn’t able to achieve it, yet I agreed to marry him. A nervous laugh slips from my lips. I can’t believe I’m telling him this. “I remember the first time I asked Damon to tie me up. He was furious.”
I jump when Max’s fingers touch my chin, lifting it until our eyes meet. A slow smile tugs at one side of his lips as if he’s trying not to air his approval of my words. “It wasn’t your fault, so stop thinking it was.”
“But if I hadn’t—”
“Tink, we’re men. We compartmentalize things, especially when it comes to women and work. What happened could have happened to any of those guys. They were ambushed and none of them saw it coming.”
I tug my chin out of his grip and slide off the stool, walking past him, not wanting his sympathy. “I still feel guilty he died thinking I would rather be with you. I loved him, Max,” I plead, not sure if I’m trying to convince him or myself. No, I did. But I had already decided I wouldn’t marry him, I just didn’t know how to end it. When he left that night, his words stung, but they made me realize I couldn’t keep living a lie. Damon was wrong about one thing though, I didn’t want Max. That door was bolted shut.
Two freaking years ago.
“Where do we go from here?” he whispers from behind me, his chest barely touching my back. His words confusing me.
A hand glides down my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps. “We can’t do this, Max.” I swallow hard and tell my feet to walk away from his touch, but my body screams back by leaning into him. “We’ll drown in the river of guilt that divides us,” I whisper, turning to face him.
“Just give me tonight.” The intensity in his eyes bore into me. How can I give him tonight when my heart wants tomorrow and my mind won’t forget yesterday?
I open my mouth to decline, but the words don’t come out. For a hot second, I want to give in to the desire. It’s been over a year since I’ve been with a man and I know Max can give me what I need. But will he be able to walk away after? Will I? I shake my head, answering myself. No. Max changed me and I changed him.
He didn’t ask for forever. We can’t be casual friends with benefits.
With that final thought, the chains of guilt lock back around my heart quicker than it took to unlock them and I back out of his grip, reach for my purse off the table and rush to the door feeling horrible that I’m once again leaving him. The irony that I just asked him not to walk away. “I’m sorry, Max, I can’t. Thank you for everything you’ve done,” I whisper.
As I’m shutting the door, I hear, “Anytime, Tink,” and then the sound of glass shattering against the wall. Pain funnels through my heart knowing I’m hurting him by walking away. Again. This will be the last time.
Max doesn’t need to save me anymore.
Chapter Ten
Sydney
“You left that hot hunky man in the hotel room?” Graham bellows, his voice echoing in his office.
I glare at him, sitting smugly behind his desk, knowing how Addison felt because that would have been my exact response. He’s like the boy’s version of me. I rehash my visit, and he focuses on one thing. “Of course, you’d only comment on that.”
He shrugs, smiling. “It was the last thing you went over. It was fresh in my mind.” He taps his temple a couple times.
“If it would have been in the middle, you’d still pick it out.”
He waves a hand around, stands and struts around his desk to where I’m sitting. “Let me see that tattoo since you’re avoiding my question.”
I hold out my wrist and I can’t help but grin at the perfect design. He holds my wrist in his palm, his thumb grazes over the wings. Without letting go, he sits in the chair next to me. “You ready to tell me everything?” he asks in a hesitant tone, knowing I kept out important parts. Like how I lost my baby.
He’s never asked and I’ve appreciated that he never did. But after everything he’s done for me, I owe him an explanation. I close my eyes and nod, gathering my wits again to repeat everything I told Addison. The weight of the words comes out lighter knowing I’m not hurting Graham with them.
As soon as I reach the part where I end up on his porch, he rises and pulls me up into a tight hug. Tears run down my cheek, not sad tears, more like relief tears.
“Thank you for being there, G.” I sniffle into his chest. He pulls back, his eyes glisten, and he grins as he cups my face in his hands.
“Sky, even if you sang like the Cookie Monster, I would have dropped everything to help you.” I chuckle at the image. “Thank you for telling me.”
“It feels good to get it out. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t find the right words, so I buried them with a new life. Max brought everything back.”
“Aww, and now we’re back to Max.” He releases me, leans against his desk and crosses his arms. His spiked eyebrow makes me roll my eyes.
“No. We’re not back to Max. He’s a friend. End of story.”
“Your story is ending in a huge cliffhanger and you know how much I hate those.” He playfully scowls and walks back to his chair.
He’s wrong, it’s more of a happy for now ending. Our story isn’t unresolved, it’s settled. Like oil and water. And they don’t mix.
To move the conversation away from Max, I ask about the article. Graham’s eyes light up as he opens a manila folder on his desk. The article lies on top of other papers. Giddy butterflies tickle my stomach as he reads the article, and I read along with him to myself, already having memorized the entire piece. I might have read it a few times.
The next couple of hours, we go over my schedule for the next week. I’m buzzing with excitement as we talk about meeting with a few songwriters. But first, we meet with our attorney tomorrow to go over the contract.
Graham squeezes my hand right before we walk into Jude’s office. He could crush it and I wouldn’t notice with the amount of adrenaline running through my body right now. I feel sick. Taking a couple deep breaths, Jude’s assistant opens the door for us and we step into the executive office. Floor to ceiling windows overlooks the city. Platinum and gold records neatly display on one wall with a TV on the other. I glance at a few records and swallow, wondering how I’m even here. These people are greater than great, and I’m… nobody. My stomach tightens and I fight the ill feeling I have. Don’t lose it now, Sydney.
“Sky, please sit down. You’re looking pretty ghostly,” Jude says, pulling out a chair for me.
If only I could go poof and disappear.
“I know it’s overwhelming. But you’ll do amazing. I foresee you having one of those yourself.” Jude points to one of the platinum records. Pinching my lips together, I nod slowly, not accepting his confidence. He laughs at my dim response. “Wait and see. You’ll be the next Taylor Swift.” He swipes his hands in the air like my name’s on a banner.
An unbelieving laugh escapes my lips and I cover my mouth with my hand. “Sorry. I… this is all a little overwhelming.” I push my foot off the floor to spin my chair until I’m at the table, staring at Jude and Graham.
“I understand. But trust me, I’ll get you there.” I nod as he flashes his perfect white veneers. I’d follow that man into a burning house if it leads me to a famous singing career. “Okay, so let me introduce you to Shane Witt.” I glance at the attractive middle-aged man on the couch, one arm stretched out across the back, with an ankle resting over his knee. He eyes me carefully and stands, walking over. “He’s one of our amazing songwriters and we know the pair of you will create magic.”
“Nice to meet you, Sky,” he says, his voice rich and warm, reaching his hand out. I wipe my damp palm down my jeans and slip it into his. An easy smile plays on the corner of his lips. “Don’t worry. I’m with Jude, I’ve heard you sing and you’re amazing. I can’t wait to hear you sing the song
I wrote specifically for you.”
My whole body tingles with excitement. Someone wrote a song for me to sing. How is this my life? I squeeze my hands into fists under the table so I don’t get up and dance around.
“I’m ready,” I blurt out. The three guys chuckle. “I mean… whenever you’re ready. Tell me where to go and when.” I lean back, stuffing my hands under my legs to contain my enthusiasm.
Shane leans against the wall, glances at Jude and then back to me. “We can start tonight.”
“That’s perfect.” Jude claps, standing up. “The quicker we can cut a single to get your name out, the better.”
The next hour Jude discusses timelines and the ins and outs of recording. Thank god Graham is here because by the time the meeting finishes, I only remember bits and pieces of it.
“So Sky, tell me a little about yourself,” Shane says, sitting across from me. It surprised me when he told me to meet him at his house, but Graham reassured me it’s normal practice that a songwriter has a studio in his home.
I stare at the white wine in my glass for a moment. “I’m a southern girl trying to make it in a singer’s world.”
He smiles, staring at me. My gaze darts around his modern home. Silvers and whites set the tone, the only color in a framed piece of artwork above the fireplace mantle. “Don’t be nervous.” He gets up, stands in front of me with the wine bottle in his hand. “Like some more?”
I pull back my glass. “No, I’m good. The last thing I need to do is drink my nerves away. But thank you.” He nods, placing the bottle on the table and sits beside me on the couch. My leg is bent and tucked under my other leg. I pull it out from under me to give him more room, but he grabs my knee and squeezes.
