“Hey, when you go and botch something as epic as the Empire State Building, a guy has to dig.”
I smile and we walk. I trail behind him when the path gets narrow, and he helps me up when things get steep. About twenty minutes in, I’ve definitely worked up a little sweat and it feels good to be outside and free, the very opposite of being cramped on a tour bus. “This is awesome,” I say when we walk past a bunch of wildflowers. “Adam, look. They’re so pretty.”
“They really are.”
“Wildflowers remind me of you now,” I admit, linking my fingers through his. Ever since I told Adam I was named for Lady Bird Johnson, a First Lady of the United States from the sixties who was crazy about wildflowers, he’s gone out of his way to get me flowers. Twice I’ve gotten handpicked bouquets, and he even sent me wild poppies when I moved to California.
“You know,” he says, “I used to hike around Lady Bird Lake in Austin all the time.”
“Really?”
He nods. “It was so crazy because we had just, um, left things alone between us, and I’d moved to Texas to work on my music and, you know, free myself of any distractions. And then bam! There you were smack in the middle of the city I moved to.”
I chew on my lip and start walking again, thinking back to that time and how heartbroken I was when he moved away. I liked Adam so much, thought about him constantly, dreamed of going out with him; then it finally happened and he dropped me faster than a hot potato.
“Anyway,” he says after some silence. “Made me think of you every time I was downtown.”
“I thought about you a lot after you left, too,” I say, letting go of his hand.
“I wish I could say I shouldn’t have left, but I think it was good for me,” he says. “Got my demo, met some cool people, signed with the label. All good things.”
I nod, feeling my throat constrict, surprised by the sudden emotion rising up in my chest.
“You okay?” he asks as we walk over a wooden bridge.
I nod and step ahead of him.
“Bird, wait,” he says, pulling me back. He stares at my face while I look beyond the bridge, watching as the water from a small creek flows over the smooth rocks below. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say, swallowing hard. I do not want to get emotional right now. We’re having a fantastic day on our first “normal” date, so the last thing I want to do is ruin it by hiking down a dark patch of memory lane. “Just tired. Might rest a sec.”
I squat, sitting down on the bridge and letting my legs dangle over the edge, studying my sneakers as they swing back and forth over the water. The rushing sound is so soothing. I stare at a feather caught in a little whirlpool, wondering how long until it frees itself and carries on. Adam waits a bit and then sits down next to me, cautiously, as if feeling me out. Ugh, I’ve already made things weird.
“Hey,” he says. “Talk to me.”
I sigh, closing my eyes.
“What is it?” Adam asks softly. He squeezes my shoulder. “You know you can tell me anything.”
I open my eyes and watch the ripples dance in the stream, deciding to be honest. Even if it’s painful, I’ll just be honest. If it goes badly, maybe I’ll get a chart topper out of the deal.
“This might sound crazy, but when you brought up Austin and how you left…” I glance up at him and then back down at my hands. “It just—that was a hard time for me. I was really into you, I was crazy about you, and then it seemed like the minute things got hard, you left. Sayonara. Peace. The end.”
He looks puzzled. “You had a lot going on. A lot. And I wasn’t really sure you were all that into me, to be honest.”
I stare at him. “Are you serious?”
“Bird, we only went out one time,” he says. “And you squeezed me in at, like, six thirty in the morning.”
“I had to finish my album!”
“Right, and you had to do publicity stuff all the time, like that date with Jason Samuels—”
“That was not a date,” I interject.
“Okay, but it was just another major thing going on in your life that, I don’t know, was more important than me,” he says quietly.
“And then I missed your show,” I say, groaning as I drop my head into my hands. “I’m sure that was another red flag on top of the Jason red flag that all added up to she’s not really into me, when, Adam, I totally was.” I look up at him, feeling so vulnerable as I search his eyes and my heart picks up pace. “I just feel like maybe we could’ve, I don’t know, made it if it weren’t for that whole debacle.”
“Looking back on it all, I think it was timing,” he says honestly. “But yeah, missing my show…” Now he looks away. “Truthfully, that one hurt. I was really into you, and I wanted you to hear my new stuff.” Embarrassed, he glances over at me. “You’re not the only one who’s written a song about a crush, you know.”
My heart cracks a little. He had written a song for me. And I missed it.
“And I saved you a seat—”
“Ugh, that sad glass of Coke at the bar!”
“It was supposed to be a romantic gesture,” he says.
“It was so sweet.” I pause. “It killed me.”
“So anyway, I knew you couldn’t make it to my performance because you were performing. I knew you didn’t really have time for a boyfriend, or whatever, because you were in the studio all the time. And then I knew there’d be press and a tour and everybody would see how special and talented you are and…” He looks up at me and simply but softly says, “I guess I just wanted to end it before you accidentally broke my heart.”
Tears completely blur my vision. “I’m sorry, Adam.”
He smiles. “But it was timing, Bird. Don’t you see? Maybe all of that had to happen so we could be right here right now.”
He starts to move toward me, but a group of hikers appear out of nowhere and trod over the bridge behind us. The second they’re gone, he grabs my face and pulls me toward him with urgency. We’ve laid it all out and we want to risk our hearts again… for each other. We sit on this wooden bridge in the middle of the gorgeous Tennessee landscape and we kiss and kiss and kiss, wrapped up in this new, old feeling.
18
“SO HE DROPPED you off last night, and you left it how?” Stella asks a few days later. We’re hanging out at her mom’s apartment in East Nashville, and I’m debriefing her on all the time I’ve spent with Adam lately, going to the movies, eating out, watching TV, just being together like a normal couple. It’s been amazing.
“We left it at, I don’t know,” I say. “At good night.”
“And you’re boyfriend-girlfriend now?” she asks.
“Um, I wouldn’t say that,” I say, shifting in my seat.
“What do you mean? You’re not official?”
“We haven’t really talked about it.”
“Bird!” she says impatiently. “You’ve been inseparable all week and you didn’t DTR?”
“They’ve only been more than friends for a few days,” Shannon says as she joins us on the couch with a big bowl of chips. “Give them a minute to figure it out.”
“Mom,” Stella says dramatically. “This is not their first take, okay? And this go ’round they have already taken it so slow.”
“Well, not everybody locks it down after one kiss,” I say pointedly. “You and Dylan got together and it went from zero to sixty.”
Stella glances at her mom and then shoots me a look, and I realize that as cool as Shannon is, Stella might not want me giving a tell-all interview here.
“I just mean that with Adam and me,” I recover, turning the convo back around, “I think we’re both a little gun-shy. It didn’t work out the first time and now—”
“Now you’re getting a second chance!” Stella interrupts. Then she bats her lashes and adds, “And it’s so convenient for double-dating.”
Shannon smiles. “Well, I’m happy for you both. But the guys should be here soon, and I have work to do.
You going to watch the movie in here?”
“Is that okay?” Stella asks.
“Yeah, I’ll close the door.” Shannon gets up and heads to her work space, an amazing little in-home studio that was the inspiration for the one I had built in our new Nashville house.
“Adam was so sweet after the Rolling Stone thing,” I say when I’m alone with Stella again. “I’m still freaking out about what Jase will print.”
“She’s a snake,” Stella says bitterly. “But forget her. The problem at hand is Adam plus Bird equals Adird. Ew. Or Birdam.” I roll my eyes and she giggles. “Okay, well, your names don’t go together but y’all do! I say you lock it down. You were meant for each other.”
“Yeah,” I say with a smile. “I guess there’s really nothing keeping us from being exclusive—”
“Exactly!” she says. “Not like a psycho ex-girlfriend or something.”
I look at her quizzically.
“Whitney’s been tagging Dylan in some throwback Instagram pics lately, and it makes me want to murder somebody.”
“Whitney Jehn?” I ask, shocked. “But she broke up with Dylan forever ago.”
“Well, now his little sister’s famous and he’s on tour,” she says, clearly annoyed. “And the worst part is that she’s making problems in our relationship.”
“How?”
Stella looks at me like I’m stupid. “Um, maybe because I’ve acted crazy jealous about it, like, twice now, which makes me even madder because that is so not me. But I don’t like my boyfriend rekindling a friendship with his ex.”
“I don’t think you should worry about her,” I say. “She was okay, but she’s no Stella Crossley.”
Stella rolls her eyes.
“And anyway,” I go on, “he’s obviously in love with you.”
“Did he say that?” Stella asks, her eyes wide. “Bird, did Dylan tell you that? We haven’t said it yet.”
I wince, this being the exact kind of conversation I try to avoid. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious, right?”
She frowns. “So he didn’t say it?”
I exhale. “I don’t know what to tell you…”
“You tell me the truth,” she snaps. “God, Bird! Channing Tatum’s ex-girlfriend is trying to worm her way back into his life, and your best friend is feeling a little crazy-girl about it and could use some reassurance.”
“Okay, well, Channing Tatum also happens to be my brother, so it gets a little complicated sometimes,” I fire back.
“Whatever,” she says, rolling her eyes again.
“Yeah, whatever is right,” I say with the same level of attitude. “I don’t need this right now, okay? Neither of our boy problems is as stressful as what a national magazine might print about me after my blowup the other night, so I’ve sort of got some real problems to worry about.”
Stella looks like I’ve slapped her in the face. “Oh, real problems? Okay, my bad. I’ll take my fake problems and leave you alone.” She grabs the remote and turns on the TV, fuming. I feel like I should apologize, but I also feel like she should apologize. I made it crystal clear when “Stylan” got together that I didn’t want to be in the middle of it—ever—and this conversation is a perfect example of why.
“Stella—” I start.
But the doorbell rings and she stands up before we can smooth things over. “Whatever. They’re here.”
While she goes to answer the door, I get on Instagram, trying to do a little digging on this ex-girlfriend situation. I used to want to kill Whitney for breaking my brother’s heart, but now I want to wring her neck for causing me unnecessary drama.
“If you’ll recall,” Stella announces as they all enter the living room, “we watched a shoot-’em-up movie last time, so Bird and I get to pick today. I think I want something serious, an indie maybe, something with real problems, you know?”
My jaw drops. Did she really just take it there? In front of the guys?
Dylan crashes on the big chair-and-a-half and Stella plops down next to him, her legs over his. “’Sup, Bird,” he says, as she aims the remote at the flat screen. I shoot him an annoyed look and he looks surprised. “What’s your problem?”
Stella whips her head around, giving me a let it go look that reminds me I’m not supposed to know about their fights. But that just irks me even more. If I’m not supposed to know, don’t tell me!
“Just some big-star stuff,” Stella says, waving me off. “You know, real problems.”
“Hey, you,” Adam says, sitting next to me.
I take a deep breath and shake off the Stylan drama. Instead, I focus on Adam’s cute smile and force my happy back. “Hey to you.”
Stella searches the guide, and for every romantic comedy she suggests, the guys groan or try to talk us into some alien or war movie they see on the list. Then finally, Stella’s face lights up, and she clicks on Jason Samuels’s last movie, the one with my song in it. “Winner! This is the best of both worlds. It’s got war for you boys, it’s got Bird’s hottie ex-boyfriend Jason Samuels for her, and it’s chock-full of national suffering, dying, and real problems. What do you think?”
She looks over at me with a huge fake smile on her face, and I feel my own flush.
“You know, I don’t even think I’m up for a movie,” I say. I stand and grab my bag.
“Bird, come on,” Stella says, annoyed. “I was just joking.”
“We see each other all the time,” I say, trying to fake lightheartedness. “And I told my mom I’d help her in her garden today.”
“Fine,” Stella says. “See you at Bridgestone tomorrow.”
“Super.”
I walk toward the front door, my blood boiling, and I don’t even know what just happened. What I do know is that my real life has been hard enough lately without dealing with Stylan drama or her ideas of where I should be in my own relationship.
“Bird,” Adam calls in the hallway. I press the DOWN button on the elevator and wait for him. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Yeah, totally.”
The doors open and I walk on, Adam right behind me.
“You’re not okay,” he says, standing near me. I press L and stand next to him, leaning into his side as he wraps an arm around me.
“Just something stupid with Stella,” I say.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I don’t even really know what happened,” I say with a shrug. “Just stuff about Dylan, and Jase… and you.”
He nods, not prying. “Too much time together.”
“Probably.” The elevator doors open and as we step off, I catch a glimpse of us together in the mirror. “Not too much with you, though.”
I already feel better now that I’m alone with Adam.
He throws his arm over my shoulder, and I wrap mine around his waist as we head outside. I lean against him as we walk, trying to shake off my sour mood. “Honestly, part of me doesn’t even want to go back out on tour,” I admit. “Which is ridiculous because this is my dream. But all week it’s been like we’re regular people, you know? No autographs or pictures or screaming fans.”
“Yeah, it’s definitely been more calm.”
“I guess I’ve just felt like the old me this week. And I’ve loved it.”
At my car, he takes my keys away and leans me up against the driver’s door, placing a hand on the window at either side of my head. “Hey,” he says intently, looking me straight in the eyes. “I don’t know what you mean about feeling like the old you, but the fame and all that? You handle it more gracefully than I ever could.”
I lean forward to peck him on the lips. “Thank you.”
He rocks back and grabs my hips, shaking me from side to side playfully. “Really. I watch you all the time and think, ‘Take notes, Adam.’”
“Oh, please,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You’re a natural.”
“Not like you. Like with the way that reporter treated you and then facing her at the photo shoot the very next day, that took real courag
e.” He looks at me with sincere admiration, and I feel myself blush. “I don’t think I could’ve done it. And how generous you are with your fans, how you retweet them all the time and give one hundred percent at every single show. It’s inspiring.” He kisses my forehead. “And it’s exactly like the Bird I knew way back when.”
“Agh,” I say, as unexpected tears spring to my eyes. I grab the hem of my T-shirt, dab at my eyes, and laugh as I say, “I think you may be blinded by love.”
I stop cold. I can’t believe I just used the L word.
Luckily, Adam laughs it off. He steps back, unlocks my car, and hands me my keys. “You really going to hang out with your mom?” he asks.
“Yeah, I told her I’d be by in a few hours, but I think I’ll go on now,” I say. “Which means you and I will have more time to hang out later.”
“Cool,” Adam says, looking past me. “Maybe I’ll go see my mom, too.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised. I don’t know all the particulars, but I know they’re not close. He always crashes with friends when he’s in Nashville instead of staying with her.
“I’ve texted her a few times today and haven’t heard back. Just might check in.”
“You know, I’d love to meet her,” I say. “I could go with you.”
Adam looks back at me, and I can’t read his expression. He rarely opens up about his past, and I bite my lip, worried I crossed a line but also really hoping he says yes. He knows my family; I want to know his.
He twists his mouth, contemplating.
I lace my fingers into his and press on, “Let me drive you over there. If you want me to come inside, I will. If you just want me to drop you and go, I’ll do that.”
Adam scratches his head and kicks at a piece of asphalt at his feet. Finally he nods and says, “Okay.”
He walks around to the passenger side, and we get into the car. I start the engine as he settles into the seat next to me, pulling on his seat belt, rolling down his window, and staring out into the sunny day. I turn the radio on, knowing not to push conversation right now. I wonder if he’ll let me come inside. I wonder if I upset him by inviting myself. Clearly the topic of his mom is touchy, but I want to be part of his life, the good and the bad. I want to be there for him in every way.
The Way Back Home Page 12
