The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set

by Katrina Abbott

  “Nooooo,” Emmie said, articulating every word very slowly and deliberately. “It’s Declan. From Ireland.”

  Graeme looked at me questioningly, but all I could do was shrug. I had no idea what Emmie was doing or what the deal was with Kaylee and her boyfriend.

  “Right, then,” Graeme said with a laugh, adding in a fake Irish accent: “I never knew farming in Ireland could be so... humbly lucrative.”

  Not having any idea what was going on, I took the opportunity in that confusing moment to get up and drift over to the table, figuring I may as well eat before the second pack of starving boys arrived.

  No Filter

  Sometime later, those starving boys did arrive. Along with Sandy, Kiki, my dad, and Linda. I kicked Graeme off the couch so Linda could take his spot.

  Amused and a little embarrassed, she assured me her foot was nearly a hundred percent, but I didn’t want to take any chances. Anyway, it couldn’t hurt to keep her off her feet—climbing the steep bus steps and stage stairs many times a day was going to take its toll. Maybe she realized that, too, because she gave me a sweet smile as she thanked me and nodded when I asked her if I could get her a plate of food.

  I turned toward the table and swept my eyes around casually as I cataloged the bodies in the room. That I didn’t see Will’s was both concerning and a relief.

  Thankfully, Emmie spoke up, so I didn’t have to. “Hey, where’s Dave?” she asked of the room in general.

  My father didn’t miss a beat. “He’s just having a quick meeting with some industry folks in a room down the hall,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the door. He made it seem as if it was no big deal and the meeting wouldn’t have life-changing implications. “He’ll be along soon,” he added as he reached for a cube of salami, which he then popped in his mouth.

  While Emmie couldn’t know what Will’s meeting meant, I certainly did. I tried to calm my racing heart as I plucked cheese, veggies, and other things I thought Linda would like off the platters and arranged them neatly on a plate.

  Once I’d killed as much time as I could, without it being obvious that I was stalling, I returned to the couch. I handed Linda the plate and took the seat beside her, determined to distract myself with small talk.

  It worked for a while as I asked her about stupid things, like the weather in New York, how much Netflix she’d watched while she was laid up, how she felt about the heat in Phoenix compared to the weather in New York.

  But then, as the subjects got even more inane, my mind began to inevitably wander, drifting to much more interesting topics. Like the image of Will at center stage, singing his heart out. Which led me to think about how earlier that very same day, he’d managed to get me to play with the band and how much I’d enjoyed performing. No, not just performing, performing with him.

  Which, predictably, led to other thoughts. Like the way he looked at me as though I was the only person in the room. No, the only person in the universe. Like that night in Times Square when he’d blocked out all of New York and the fact that my father and a photographer were watching us as we’d kissed.

  Our first sort of kiss that had been captured on a poster. But then I thought of the way he’d kissed me since. How I nearly forgot my name every time his lips were on mine.

  Those thoughts led to remembering how, not so long ago, and in another hotel, he’d told me he loved me.

  It wasn’t until there was a huge, excited ruckus in the room that I came back to earth. I realized I hadn’t heard anything Linda had said in the last however many minutes—so much that I didn’t even know what topic we’d landed on. Whoops.

  Despite my guilt, my attention was drawn to the commotion, and I watched as the entire Westwood and Rosewood delegation (except me) got up and swarmed around Will at the door. While I felt awkward, like I should join them because I was excited for him and super proud of his performance, I didn’t exactly fit into the crush of his current cheerleaders.

  Their excited voices, slapping high-fives, and exuberant hugs were entertaining to watch, especially as his smile was wide and genuine. He’d been worried about playing in front of his friends, and I understood that, even though he had no rational reason to be. But that he was finally able to see for himself how he’d totally impressed the people who mattered to him made me even happier for him.

  What was also satisfying (in a secret and mean kind of way) was how the Westwood/Rosewood crew politely greeted the other guys in the band but then returned all their attention to Will. It wouldn’t have been noteworthy, until I noticed Andres standing there, looking put out while Emmie, Brooklyn, Chelly, and the guys gathered around Will, peppering him with questions.

  That’s when it dawned on me that Andres, who was normally the center of attention, clearly didn’t like this shift. He hated that they weren’t down at the base of his pedestal, fawning over him. It didn’t even matter that the attention Will was getting was from his friends.

  “He really rose to the challenge, didn’t he?” Linda said quietly beside me, breaking me out of my thoughts.

  I glanced over. “Will? He did. No surprise, though.”

  She smiled. “None whatsoever.”

  “Do you know?” I asked, glancing over at them and then back at her, but still keeping my voice low. “About Legion Thunder, I mean?”

  She nodded.

  “Is he going to take it?” I asked and then held my breath as I waited for her answer.

  She looked over at the crowd, her expression giving nothing away. “You should ask him yourself, Nessie.” Maybe she didn’t know, but if she did, she clearly wasn’t going to give me the coward’s way out.

  She was right, of course, and asking him was the plan (though I felt like my heart already knew the answer), but I would catch up with him later on the road. For now, I wanted to give him this time with his friends.

  Or so I told myself, knowing deep down that I was being a chicken by avoiding him. Because the longer I didn’t know, the longer I could tell myself he wasn’t leaving.

  Once the congratulations and back pats were done, Will drifted over to the food and started making himself a plate, standing beside Chelly who was doing the same.

  “Good thing there’s no shrimp on this table, huh, Brooklyn?” Chelly said loudly. So loudly, that people in the hall probably heard it.

  As one, every person within earshot turned and looked from Chelly over to Brooklyn. Brooklyn was not only blushing like crazy but was wide-eyed as she stared incredulously at her friend.

  Who stared back at her, just as incredulously. “What? Everyone knows you two used to date,” she said as she waved a fork toward Will. “You can’t tell me Brady doesn’t know about that time. I mean, come on, you sent Dave to the hospital when you ate all those shrimp and then made out. Brady was there—that was when he hurt his—”

  “Chelly,” Jared said, interrupting her as he came to her side and put his hand on her shoulder. “Enough.”

  My mouth became a desert as everything began to sink in. It was old history, obviously, but it was still awkward as hell. I glanced over at Coach Fleming who was glaring at Chelly even as he pulled Brooklyn protectively into his side. Even if he hadn’t known, his anger was solely focused on Chelly.

  “Seriously, Chelly?” Will looked like he’d just eaten something very off, and not just shrimp, either.

  She seemed to clue in then and turned toward me, cocking her head before her eyes went really wide. “Oh, God! Maybe you didn’t know,” she said, looking genuinely apologetic. “I’m really sorry, Vanessa, that was...ugh. What is wrong with me?”

  While it was somewhat comforting that she felt remorseful about it, I just sat there like an idiot, wishing someone, anyone would say something or do something to take all eyes off me.

  Then, someone did.

  With an angry exhale, clearly audible in the suddenly silent room, Will placed his plate o
nto the end of the table and came toward me, gesturing for my hand. When I placed it in his—because what else could I do?—he tugged me to my feet.

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go talk.”

  I wasn’t about to argue.

  “Sorry, Vanessa!” Chelly called out as we left the room.

  Will exhaled loudly again through his nose and his body stiffened at her words. I was sure he was going to stop and turn around to say something, but instead, he shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll deal with her later.”

  It was then that I realized he wasn’t just irked, he was pissed. “It’s fine,” I said quietly as we got outside the meeting room. “I know you have a past with Brooklyn. And Emmie.”

  He stopped right there in the hallway and swung me, so I was facing him. “That’s not the point. She didn’t need to embarrass you, Brooklyn...everyone. That was really uncalled for.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “But she probably didn’t mean it like that.”

  “She needs a filter.”

  I nodded because I wasn’t about to argue that fact.

  He reached for my hand again. “Come on,” he said, gently pulling me down the hallway, away from the room and the voices that had started up again. “We have a lot to talk about.”

  My Very Own Riverdance Performance

  Feeling like I was being steered to my doom, I let Will lead me out of the reception room. After he assured Ven, who stood sentry by the door, that we were just going down the hall to talk and wouldn’t leave the building, he led me deeper into the deserted meeting room wing and around a corner, the entire scene feeling very déjà vu. Though I doubted very much that this time, the important thing he had to talk to me about was that he was in love with me.

  We came to a pair of club chairs that flanked a low coffee table in a quiet, dimly lit alcove. It was out of the fray but still a public area. A good sign? My pounding heart wasn’t so sure.

  He pointed toward one of chairs. “Have a seat.”

  I did and then watched as he pulled the other one closer before sitting in it.

  I took a deep breath to prepare for the imminent breakup speech. I couldn’t meet his gaze, dropping mine to my hands where they rested on my thighs after I’d inconspicuously wiped my palms on my jeans. “I know what you’re going to tell me so you may as well get on with it.”

  Oh hello, Blurty, nice to see you again.

  When he didn’t say anything, I lifted my eyes to gauge his reaction.

  He cocked his head as his eyebrows came down in confusion. Then, he leaned forward until our knees were almost touching and reached for my hand. “Chelly just gave me an excuse—don’t get me wrong, I’m still upset with her. But, we haven’t had a chance to talk, and I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

  Well, you’re about to tell me you’re leaving me, so, obviously, I’m stellar. But any words I might have had the courage to say out loud got stuck on the lump in my throat. I simply shrugged, gently slipping my hand away from his. This was all bad enough, him touching me felt too intimate.

  His knees moved away slightly as he leaned back in the chair. If he was offended at my gesture to disengage from him physically as well as emotionally, he didn’t let on. “I know that was a surprise earlier.”

  Was this going to be an apology for him coercing me to play during the sound check? It made sense since we hadn’t spoken since.

  “It’s fine,” I said, not about to admit how much I’d actually enjoyed it.

  He frowned again like I wasn’t giving him the reaction he’d expected. “Seeing your mom, I mean.”

  Oh, right. That. I looked up at him then and wished I hadn’t, because his expression of concern was nearly my undoing. I cleared my throat and said, “I’m fine,” as I straightened my spine and mustered some keep-it-togetherness from God knows where. “I’ll be seeing her tomorrow anyway. It was just a surprise before, that’s all.”

  That wasn’t all, but I wasn’t about to get into it with him. Not here in a hotel hallway. And especially not with him leaving.

  Unfortunately for me, he had other ideas. “Nessa,” he said in a gently chiding tone. “It’s me, come on.”

  I shook my head. “You should go back to your friends.”

  He ignored me, even though he had to recognize my tone for the plea that it was. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but—”

  I laughed humorlessly. “Nothing good ever starts with don’t take this the wrong way, you know.”

  The corners of his mouth turned up, but also humorlessly. “You’re right. And I’m sorry.” He paused to take a breath and look down the hallway, maybe shoring up courage, or choosing his words. Then he said, “But I just want to say that while I know you’re still angry at her, and you have every right to be, you should give your mother a second chance.”

  Not what I was expecting. Not even close. Anger rose like bile in my throat, so acidic that I could taste it on the back of my tongue. “What?”

  “People change, Nessa.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but he didn’t give me the chance, maybe anticipating my reaction. “My grandfather changed. He lived much of his life selfishly, but the last part of it, he was a different man, a man filled with regret over how he’d hurt everyone around him. He did everything he could to make amends.” He took a breath and looked down, shielding his eyes from me, but I’d already seen the unshed tears in them. “I’m grateful he did, even though it came late because while I didn’t really know him until near the end, I am a better person for having let him in my life—even going against my parents’ wishes. They didn’t see the change in him the way I did.”

  Oh sure, pull out the dead grandfather card, I thought, not having any words to actually say to him.

  Luckily for me, he wasn’t done with his lecture. “Your mother isn’t dead, Nessa. You’ve been given this second chance with her, and I’d hate for you to miss it and regret it later when it’s too late.”

  He swiped at a lone tear, that one tiny drop of salt water alone making me unable to fight him. Nearly unable to fight him.

  “It’s not the same,” I said, trying not to let his tears become contagious. “She left us. Her husband and her kid, to go shack up with her boy toy.”

  “The selfishness is the same, even if the circumstances aren’t. People get caught up in their own stuff. I get that. But maybe she’s sorry, Nessa. She looked sorry when she was sitting in that audience.” He lifted his eyes to mine and added, “She also looked proud.”

  “No,” I said, dropping my gaze. “Don’t say things like that to me.”

  “What? That she’s proud? She had reason to be, Nessa. You played that sound check cold, and you crushed it. You know you did. She comes back after being away and sees what her daughter’s become, and of course, she’s—”

  “Stop, please,” I said, unable to keep the anguish out of my voice. Because what he was saying would be the end of me. If I hated her, if I kept thinking of her as dead, even if only to me—I wouldn’t hope. He was making me hope, and that was so much worse.

  I would have run then, but his hand landed on my knee. “Talk to me, Nessa. I want to help. That’s why I’m here. I just don’t want to see you do something you’ll—”

  “Will,” I said, begging the tears not to fall. “I can’t. Please. Just, please...I don’t want to talk about this. I should go...”

  But as I scooched forward on the chair, his hand remained firmly on my knee. “Why are you doing this, Nessa? Why are you shutting me out?” he asked, hurt.

  Which made two of us. Not that it made me feel better that we were both hurting—it’s not like his pain canceled mine out.

  It took me a long time before I trusted myself to speak without losing it completely. “Because you’re leaving me.”

  He did a double take. “What?”

  “You’re joining Legion Thunder. You
are, aren’t you?”

  “I...” he shoved his fingers through his hair and sighed as he looked away, down the hall. “You knew they were going to be there tonight.”

  I nodded.

  He sighed. “Of course you did.”

  “If it makes you feel better, I only found out today. Late today, actually.”

  “I’m not mad,” he said, returning his eyes to mine. “I wanted to talk to you about it, though.”

  “What’s to talk about?”

  His perfectly sculpted eyebrows came down again in confusion, like he didn’t understand how I could even ask. “Us.”

  “There is no us,” I said, my voice nearly gone thanks to my tight throat.

  He reached for my hand again, but I pulled it away. “Don’t,” I said. “It’s just going to make it harder. I don’t want...just...you should go back with your friends.”

  “Don’t do this, Nessa,” he pleaded.

  “I’m not doing anything,” I said. “Other than telling you to go be with your friends. There is no us,” I repeated in case it wasn’t clear before.

  “Does how I feel about you not mean anything? I meant it when I told you I love you.”

  I shook my head. “You don’t love me. You love the idea of me. You love love. Not the same thing.”

  His eyes narrowed. “So now you’re telling me how I feel?”

  My shrug was casual, even though it was nothing more than an act. My racing heart knew it, too. “You told me yourself that you fall too easily. How am I supposed to believe you?” Somehow I managed not to cringe at my own words, even though I knew they were cruel.

  He snorted. “If I’d known confessing my feelings to you was going to be thrown back in my face like this, maybe I would have kept that to myself. But since we’re already on the topic, I’ll correct your assumption and tell you I’ve never felt this way about anyone. What I thought was love before was nothing compared to how I feel about you, Vanessa. I’m handing you my heart here, don’t you understand that?”