by Kacey Shea
“So, maybe dinner sometime soon?” He asks with a grin.
“That would be nice,” I answer automatically.
He opens his car door and is around the car to open mine before I even have my seat belt off.
“I’ll call you soon.” He smiles and then walks briskly toward the hospital entrance. I replay the entire morning, from our conversations to lack thereof, to our kiss, in my mind while I trek it across one parking garage to the lot where I’m parked.
I open my car and slip inside but as I turn the key in the ignition a fluttering movement catches my eye. There’s a paper stuck under my windshield. Probably an ad, but I step out of my car to retrieve it anyway. I sit back inside my car and drop it on the passenger seat. It’s only then the folded white paper falls open.
I suck in a breath and fight the urge to scream. I glance around and lock my doors but find nothing else out of the ordinary. The paper taunts me, conjuring image after image of that horrible night.
Written in black Sharpie, the words don’t actually say much. It’s not even presented as a threat, but combined with the other strange things that have been happening, I just know. Someone is watching me. Someone knows about my involvement. Someone is making my life a horrible bad dream. And the worst part? I don’t know if there’s a damn thing I can do to stop it.
“HEY, KID. IT’S NOT TOO late, is it?” The app on my phone brings Luis’ grinning face into view. Sweat drips off my bald head and I reach for a towel to wipe it away. Stage lights are no joke. We just finished another opening act for Justin Hill and I snuck back to the tour bus bathroom to get some FaceTime in before any of the guys notice and give me shit about not hanging backstage.
“No, it’s not that late.” Luis stifles a yawn.
“Not helping your case.” I laugh.
“Sorry, all I do is sleep and I’m still tired. How’s the tour?”
“Good, man. Played another packed house tonight.”
“Is Justin as cool as he seems?”
“Yeah, actually, the man is a musical genius. He can play every instrument on stage. And I’ve heard him sing during warm ups. His voice is legit. He’s a cool dude.”
“That’s so awesome. I wish I could meet him.” I nod and pocket that piece of information. Justin is a down to earth good person. I’m sure he’d spare a few minutes to talk with Luis if I ask.
“So how’s hospital life?”
Luis smirks. “Go ahead and just ask, man. I know you want to.”
“What?”
“Aren’t you going to ask about your favorite nurse?” Damn, this kid’s perceptive.
“No . . . what? Can’t I just call to talk to my fave cancer kid?”
“Mmmhmm.”
“But if you want to maybe tell me every detail about your hot nurse I wouldn’t object. I mean, only if you want to.”
“That’s what I thought.” Luis rolls his eyes and I grin.
“How is she?”
“She seems stressed.”
“She does?” This surprises me. Carly’s not usually one to share her emotions around patients. I haven’t talked or texted her since the night she left the going away party, and that’s been two weeks. She doesn’t want anything to do with me. She made that clear, but damn if I’m not having a difficult time respecting the boundaries she set. I haven’t stopped thinking about her since I left. And sure, I think about her lush lips and smoking body, but more often than not I find myself wondering how she feels, if her boys are happy, if she’s safe, and if she ever thinks of me.
Luis’ observation sparks a whole new level of curiosity. I hope she’s okay. I hope her stress has nothing do to with the incident with her car battery.
“Yeah, when she doesn’t think I’m looking she’s constantly checking her phone and she keeps biting her lip. You know, the face she makes when she’s concentrating.”
“Yeah, I do.” My brow furrows. “What else?”
“Well . . . I’m sure you’re not going to like it . . .”
“Just give it to me straight, kid.”
“I heard two of the day nurses talking . . .” His lips pull into a hard line and I brace myself for the worst. “And Carly’s been dating some surgeon.”
“Fuck!” I shout, and then cringe. “Sorry, kid.”
“Nah, man. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. She’s too good for me anyway. I’m just a musician. She deserves better than I can give.” I try to play it off for Luis.
“Still sucks.” He shrugs.
“Tell me about it. At least you still get to hang out with her.” I wink and then add, “Winning!” Luis laughs.
“Dude, you’re on tour with Justin Hill and he has the hottest dancers. You’re the one winning.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, they’re pretty hot.”
“I wish I could go on tour with you.” He gives a big yawn.
“Hey, keep practicing, maybe one day you will. You never know.” He nods at my words but doesn’t smile. The sounds of talking and laughter seep through the small walls of the tour bus and I check my watch. The band is probably heading inside to shower and change before venturing out for food, women, and party time.
“I should let you go. Keep fighting, kid. I’ll try and catch you tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Derek, for calling me every night even though you’re on tour.”
“Of course. You’re like my favorite human. ’Night.”
“Good night.” Luis ends the call and I step outside the bathroom.
“What the fuck, man? Why do you keep sneaking away after every show?” Sean shouts from the kitchenette. He pulls out two beers and tosses one my way. I reach out and catch it before it hits the floor.
“He’s sneaking in here to beat one off in private.” Austin jokes.
“Nah, it’s gotta be some girl. Who’s got your balls, D?” Trent smiles wide.
“None of the above.” I pull my notepad and guitar case down from my bunk and sit on one of the couches. Beer in hand, I pull the metal tab back with a pop and take a long pull. “What would you say if I told you I’ve been sneaking back here to call a fourteen-year-old boy?”
“Dude, you’re a sick bastard.” Trent laughs.
“That ain’t right, D.” Sean shakes his head.
I laugh and ignore their banter, and the focus shifts to someone else now that I’m in my writing zone. It fucking pisses me off that Carly’s seeing someone else. If I were a betting man, I’d guess it’s that same doctor pretending he didn’t know how to make his own fucking coffee. Pretentious fucker. I’m sure he makes a shit ton of money and is stable and good looking in a clean-cut, take-him-home-to-meet-mama sort of way, but there’s something about him I don’t like.
Fuck.
Why do I even care? Because you love her.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She’s not mine. She doesn’t want me.
“You coming, D?” Trent taps me on the shoulder and pulls me from my straying thoughts. I glance up to his expectant face. Austin and Sean are already stepping off the bus. “We’re getting food then meeting up with Justin and the rest of his band. You should come out.”
I consider it, but I’m too hyped up right now. The need to write is pulsing through my veins. I won’t be able to let loose or have fun until I get it out of my system. “Nah, man. I’m gonna chill back here and write.”
Trent nods and studies my gaze with his own. “Okay, cool man.” He gets it, understands my incessant need to write. I never have to explain myself to Trent; it’s probably why we get along so well. He steps back toward the door before adding, “If you need to talk, I’m here, man.”
I give him a head nod and offer a simple “Good night.” I’m sure I could talk to Trent, but I don’t think he’d understand. I’ve never seen him with the same woman more than a few nights.
Guitar in hand, I balance my note pad over my knee. My green eyed gypsy woman returns. Her curves and lush lips beckon despite no promise of release. She leaves
me restless, unsatisfied, wanting, frustrated, enamored. I jot down the words that come, and soon afterward the melody begins to form.
I write until the band comes back, drunk and stumbling into their bunks. I write as the bus pulls out of the lot, onward to our next destination. I write until I can’t open my eyes all the way, until the skyline outside the window peaks with pink, a promise of a new day. A promise of hope. Song after song, my gypsy muse transforms into a beautiful brunette. A caring and thoughtful nurse. A mother of two growing boys. A woman I love.
Carly.
“REMEMBER TO USE YOUR MANNERS, please and thank you, and ask permission before you take something or go outside to play. This isn’t our house and we want to be good guests.” I rattle off a few reminders to Eli and Ezra as we pull up in front of Drew and Melissa’s house.
They’re hosting Thanksgiving; I can’t get over how graciously all of Evie’s family not only welcomes but accepts us into the family. I pull in behind Jon’s truck and the boys race out of the car and up the drive before I’m even to the sidewalk. A chorus of hellos greets Eli and Ezra through the open door, and I let a smile fill my face. I’m thankful for these people, my extended family, people who aren’t joined by blood or marriage, not yet anyway.
My cell sends a shrill sound through the crisp November day and I pull it from my purse. My realtor’s name flashes across the screen.
“Don’t you ever take a day off?” I say to Mark through the line.
“You sound like my wife!” He laughs. “I have some news on the Robertson Way house.” I bite my lip and can’t help the nerves that rise up. I’ve been looking for weeks, but the moment I stepped inside this house, I just knew it was the one I wanted. We put a bid in right away.
“What’s the news, Mark?”
“They rejected our offer.” My nerves sink into disappointment. Moisture pools in my eyes but I blink it back. I will not to cry. It’s stupid, I know, just a house, but I’d already started to picture us there. I can’t help but feel let down. “Someone else came in with a cash bid. It was a no brainer for them. I’m really sorry, Carly. I know you loved that house. I just wanted to let you know right away.”
“No. I appreciate the call, Mark. Especially on a holiday.”
“Of course, and don’t worry. We’ll find the perfect house for you. I’ll send you over the latest listings. Tomorrow, if that’s okay.”
“Yeah, whenever you get to it. I won’t be able to look at it over the next few days with my schedule anyway. Take some time off with your family.”
“Thanks, Carly, Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Happy Thanksgiving.” I pocket my cell.
“So who was that and who do I need to go beat up?” I lift my chin to find Tate studying me from the doorway. I roll my eyes.
“Just my realtor. I didn’t get the house.” I pout.
“Sorry, sis. But maybe it’s a good thing, with the holidays and all? Won’t it be kind of crazy trying to move and get ready for Christmas?” I narrow my gaze at his feeble attempt at reasoning.
“That doesn’t really make sense. I think you just want another Christmas morning with your nephews.”
“Guilty.” He laughs and leads me inside. The house is full and chaotic. Moving bodies fill the space, laughter and conversation flow freely, and the smell of food permeates throughout.
“Hello!” I smile and wave at everyone. Eli and Ezra lay across the living room floor and chat away to Jon and Kate. Jon seems to be setting up a makeshift battlefield, princess figurines vs stuffed animals. Kate has Melissa’s daughter Claire between her legs, a look of pure devotion on her normally calculating face. I can’t help but notice the way she rests one hand over her abdomen every few minutes. God, she’ll be such a good mama.
Evie, her mom, Linda, Melissa, and Drew scurry around the kitchen, coming in and out with dishes and food. Evie’s dad Carl sits in the recliner and watches the game.
“Can I help with anything?” I ask.
“Yes!” Melissa stops mashing potatoes to give me a quick hug. “Will you open a few bottles of wine, a white and red? And get yourself a glass, too. Dinner will be ready in fifteen.”
“Thanks for having us,” I say.
“Of course. We’re family.” She grins.
I open the bottles and Melissa calls everyone inside the kitchen for a toast. Some already have a beer in hand, someone snuck my boys cans of soda, and I fill glasses for who all is left. Melissa hands off a glass of merlot to Kate and I watch closely as she takes a sip. Really? She hasn’t told anyone yet. Somehow that doesn’t fit. She’s always so brash and honest that I’d expect her to shout the news from the rooftop. I can’t believe she’s able to contain her excitement.
I watch Jon and he smiles, murmuring something about getting her drunk and she winks. “You know I will,” she says loud enough we all can hear. She takes another sip and I can’t help but glare. I can’t believe she’d be so careless to drink alcohol while pregnant. She finds my gaze and glares back harder.
Drew begins a toast, “I’d just like to thank you all for being here today to celebrate. I look around this room and our little circle is growing. I couldn’t be happier to call you all dear friends and family. And we have so much to be thankful for in the coming year.” Kate finally looks away, directing her gaze at Drew. “Linda and Carl’s thirty-fifth wedding anniversary in January. Evie and Tate’s wedding in April. And well, there’s a big surprise . . .”
Drew glances around the room. His lips pull wide, illuminating his face in a beaming smile. He pauses and even little Claire halts her babbling as if waiting for him to continue.
“Or should I say little?” If possible he grins wider. “A baby in May.”
Kate’s eyes go wide and she gasps, her gaze bounces from me to Drew and back to me. “You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone!” she shouts.
I blink and shake my head. “I didn’t.”
“Melissa and I are expecting.” Drew gives Kate a strange look and then pulls his wife to his side and kisses her unapologetically. Evie and Linda laugh and clap, obviously privy to Melissa and Drew’s news as their faces show no signs of surprise. My boys let out a chorus of disgusted noises and that’s when my gaze finds Jon’s expression. He’s staring at Kate even though she’s still shooting daggers my way.
“Kate? Are you? Are we?” His rough voice steals all the attention in the room.
Her gaze softens as her chin lifts to meet Jon’s eyes. Kate’s eyes glisten and she nods. Tears spill down her cheeks.
“Don’t cry my sweet, sassy woman.” Jon cups her face and wipes the tears with his thumbs, peppering kisses in their wake.
“I can’t help it!” She laughs on a sob. “Damn hormones!”
“Come here!” He growls, picks her up, and spins in a circle. “We’re pregnant! We’re having a baby!”
“Well, yeah! Did you just think I was getting fat?” She giggles.
“You’re beautiful.” He stops, captures her lips, and I have to look away. The moment is too intimate, too full of desire; it’s as if I’m intruding just by watching.
“Oh, God! Get a room!” Evie teases, but she’s grinning. “Seriously? My sister and my best friend will both be gigantic preggo at my wedding! Carly, you’re not pregnant too, are you?”
“God, no!” I laugh, and then mutter to myself. “You have to have a man for that.” The room fills with congratulations, well wishes, and warmth. The amount of love in this small space is almost suffocating.
“You’ll find a good one, sweetie.” Linda pats my arm sympathetically. I just laugh.
“I’m not sure about that. It’s okay, though. I have my boys. They’re enough.”
“Mmmhmm.” She tsks as if she knows better. I paste on a polite smile and bite back a smart retort. They are enough. Two healthy boys. It’s more than most have. And I don’t need a man. I certainly didn’t need Josh. I sure as hell don’t need a know-it-all arrogant doctor. And I especially don’t need a fa
mous drummer. One who spends his free time making sick kids happy, and the only man I picture when I get myself off.
Mmmhmm.
“DEREK! SO GLAD I CAUGHT you, man.” Max’s chipper voice greets me from my half slumber state. He’s the music producer our agent Bedo put me in contact with a few weeks back. I twist inside my sleeping cubby. I’m glad I heard my phone ring but I don’t want to wake the entire band.
“Hi, Max. Did you get the songs I sent over last night, well, this morning?”
“Yeah. Fuck. I don’t know how you do it. You realize you could make a living off writing music alone? You’re giving me more material than most songwriters, and all this while being on the road? Damn. You make me question my own work ethic.”
“Thanks, Max. I’ve been inspired and I can’t help it. The music just comes.” I keep my voice low.
“Well, you better have a good tax accountant. I’ve got several artists considering using your songs alone for their upcoming albums. Payday, man. For you and me both. These songs are great.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“Just keep ’em coming. I’ll call Bedo later. We’ll start signing paperwork for exclusive rights.”
“Thanks, Max. Talk soon.”
“Bye.”
I stretch and hit my hand on the wall of my cubby. Fuck. I’m ready to be back in my own bed.
I blow out a breath and scrub my hands across my face and over the stubble of my scalp. What awesome news to start the day with. I’m glad I can sell my songs, but even if I couldn’t I’d still be writing. It’s a part of me. Helps me deal with life and whatever I’m feeling at the moment. I want to tell someone. To share this good news.
I want to tell Carly. I close my eyes and groan because goddamn I don’t want to think about her, but I can’t stop. She’s always on my mind, and the closer we are to getting back to Phoenix the more I think about her. We’ll arrive in LA today and fly home in two nights. I probably shouldn’t, but I can’t stop my fingers from scrolling through to open her contact on my phone. I fire off one text before I overthink it.
