Rather Be (A Songbird Novel)

by Melissa Pearl

  I didn’t know why, but the music kept cursing us, bringing up songs that seemed to hit me right between the eyeballs.

  I gritted my teeth as “Closer” filled all the spaces in the car, the lyrics bouncing off the windows and right back at me.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Charlie’s lips purse, and then she spun to look out her window. For a second I wondered if she was crying. But then I told myself that couldn’t be the case because she’d left me. She made the decision for both of us, because she obviously hadn’t wanted the life we’d both dreamed up in that tent in Yosemite.

  Chapter Twelve

  Charlie

  Nixon was mad at me. He hadn’t yelled or outright ignored me, but I could feel this vibe oozing out of him.

  I hated it.

  It took a lot to make Nixon mad, which was why we’d never fought in high school. In fact, we’d never really had an argument unless it was a slightly heated discussion about something to do with music or movies. Basically we’d agreed on everything and occasionally had to convince the other to win them over.

  Other than that, our lives had been peaceful and awesome.

  “Nothing but awesome,” I whispered.

  “What was that?” Nixon glanced at me from the passenger seat. He’d been reading his Kindle since crossing into Arkansas.

  I’d kept my mouth shut and done nothing more than hum along to the odd song. It’d been the longest frickin’ day in the world. I was over it.

  The trip back to LA was supposed to be a chance to make up for what we’d lost.

  And I’d wasted a whole day lamenting the fact that I couldn’t change the past.

  This was possibly my last chance ever to make up for what I’d done, and I couldn’t let this precious opportunity slip through my fingers. Time was running out. Once we reached LA, he was going to reunite with his girlfriend and before that happened, I needed him to know how much I still cared about him.

  “Long Way Home” popped up on my screen and started pumping through the speakers. I looked at the only person I’d ever considered my true best friend and tried out some raw honesty.

  “I miss our awesomeness. You made high school brilliant and wonderful. I miss it so much. I wish we could go back in time and just get stuck in this never-ending cycle.”

  “You want to relive junior and senior year over and over?” His voice was dry with sarcasm, his eyes still locked on the Kindle. A muscle in his jaw worked.

  I shook my head and mumbled, “I know it sounds dumb.”

  “Actually it doesn’t.” He scratched the side of his forehead. “I loved it too. It was awesome.”

  “I wanted our road trip to be the same.” I swallowed.

  Lowering his Kindle, he flashed me a sad smile. “You can’t recreate the past, Charlie. What we had is gone.”

  I worked my jaw to the side, wondering if he was about to ask why. He had every right to. I was the reason it had all fallen apart and damn, he deserved a straight answer.

  Noticing an exit up ahead, I pulled off the highway and followed a sign that said: Peyton—10 miles.

  “What are you doing?” Nixon sat up in his seat.

  “Let’s stop for dinner. I’ve never heard of Peyton, but it’s bound to have a diner or some place we can eat.”

  I’d tell him over dinner, let it all out in a rush if I had to.

  My mind nearly short-circuited as I tried to formulate my spiel. I had to be careful not to destroy family ties, so my honesty had to be curbed, spoken in a tactful way that wouldn’t ruin everything I’d tried to achieve by taking off.

  My stomach twisted into a painful knot.

  Man, did I seriously have the guts to go through with it?

  Stop being such a coward!

  But how do I say it?

  Nixon, I wasn’t good enough for you. I’m probably still not, but hey, I’m selfish enough to forget all that and just be with you anyway. You’re cool with me ruining your life, right?

  I grimaced and gripped the wheel, keeping my eyes trained on the road ahead.

  “Clark’s Bar,” Nixon finally murmured, pointing out his window as we entered the small town.

  I leaned forward to spot the sign out the windshield, then started searching for a place to park. It wasn’t hard to find one. The town seemed like a sleepy, peaceful place with basically all the traffic being local.

  We headed for the bar and soon found ourselves in a warm, friendly place that had an Old West saloon-type feel—cozy brown and orange tones, a wooden floor, and a woman with wild blonde hair sitting on the stage strumming her guitar.

  Her voice was smooth and easy to listen to.

  I didn’t recognize the song until Nixon snickered. “‘This Town.’ Good song.”

  He walked to one of the free tables near the bar and took a seat. I slowly followed him, absorbing the lyrics like they were written for me and Nix.

  Yet another tune encouraging me to make it right, to fix what I had ruined years before.

  Pulling out a wooden chair, I caught the guy behind the bar staring at me. He was tall and gorgeous—sandy hair tied back in a ponytail, broad shoulders, a serious smile. I raised my fingers to indicate two beers. He pointed at the taps and mouthed, “Bud Light?”

  I gave him a thumbs-up and he got to pouring.

  Pulling out some cash from my back pocket, I slapped it on the table, ready to hand it over when the drinks arrived.

  “Ordered us some beers.”

  “Not for me.” Nixon shook his head. “I still want to knock off a few more hours before we settle somewhere. I want to drive sober.”

  “Aw, come on, Nix. Have a beer, have some fries. Let’s chillax for a bit.”

  His head whipped to face me, his glare kind of pointed. “I have to get home.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. You want to see your girlfriend.” I didn’t mean to snap the words; they just kind of popped out that way.

  He pressed his lips together, obviously holding in whatever he had to say.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “For what?” He looked at me, his brown eyes trying to see right through me.

  I opened my mouth, hoping the right words would magically pop out, but then the big guy arrived with our beers. Placing them down, he looked between us and then stuck out his hand to Nixon. “Josh. I own this place. Don’t recognize either of you.”

  I smiled at his deep Southern drawl.

  “We’re just passing through.” Nixon shook his hand.

  “Heading for LA.” I stuck out my hand. “Charlie, the hungry horse.”

  Josh gave me a half smile as he engulfed my tiny hand in his. “Well, we do the best burgers in the state. You want to try our chef’s special?”

  “Mostly definitely.” I grinned.

  “Make that two.” Nixon nodded at him before he walked away to put in our order.

  I wrapped my fingers around my glass and gulped back the beer. It was cool and refreshing, just what I needed to find my courage.

  Shuffling in my seat, I leaned my elbows on the table and tried to smile at Nixon. He wasn’t looking at me, his gaze fixed on the singer as she brought the song to a finish.

  Cheers went up around the bar, the loudest being from the big guy, Josh.

  “Thank you, baby.” The singer winked at him as she took the guitar off her lap, exposing a cute little baby bump. “I’m just taking myself a drink break, y’all. Don’t go anywhere, now.”

  Her giggle was cute, enticing a few more whistles and a catcall to not take too long.

  Josh hollered from behind the bar to leave her be while those around him laughed. The people in the place obviously knew each other well, and from the few odd glances Nix and I were getting, they weren’t used to strangers…and didn’t necessarily trust them either.

  I smiled at the wrinkled-face guy beside me, then glanced at Blondie when she passed our table.

  “You were great,” I called to her.

  She stopped an
d spun to face me. “Why, thank you. If you have any requests, y’all just let me know.”

  “Thanks.” I nodded at her.

  She rested her hand on the back of Nixon’s chair. “I don’t recognize you two. I’m Rachel.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Nixon smiled at her. “We’re just passing through.”

  Man, he was handsome when he put on that polite charm.

  Thing was, it was genuine too.

  Nixon was the nicest guy I’d ever met.

  I averted my gaze from my heart’s desire and studied the stage with its empty stool, microphone stand, and lonely black piano. I had to think of something to take the edge off the raw emotion scraping through me.

  For most of my life my main goals had been happiness and fun. I’d never done well with conflict or negative emotion. That was probably why it’d been so easy to run to Montana. It would have been impossible to break up with Nixon if I’d seen his face. So I took the coward’s way out. And my parents let me. They didn’t want me caught up in some war that could only end in heartbreak. Indignation helped them pack my bags.

  They didn’t want me involved with a family that didn’t think I was good enough. Mom and Dad had fought that their whole lives. They wanted better for me.

  Problem was, better than Nixon didn’t seem to exist.

  “You play?” Rachel caught my attention with a soft nudge to my shoulder. “I see you staring up at that stage.”

  “Oh.” I shook my head and forced a smile. “I was just wondering who played the piano.”

  “That’d be my Josh.” She grinned, her face taking on that gooey quality of somebody in love. Gently caressing her baby bump, she looked to the bar and smiled at her man. “He always says he’s too busy to play on nights like this, but truth is, my big grizzly bear just don’t like playing in public. Such a shame too, because I’m sure these folks would love to hear him. Baby sure does.”

  My smile turned into a genuine grin. The affectionate look on her face was adorable.

  “Baby likes the piano?” I pointed at her belly.

  “I’m certain of it. I wish it was played more.”

  “Oh really?” I raised my eyebrows and tipped my head towards Nixon. “He plays.”

  His eyes bulged, then narrowed into a tight glare, worry skittering around the edges of his expression.

  “Don’t you do this to me, Charlie Watson.”

  I was pretty sure he was thinking something along those lines, and it made me giggle.

  My lips rose into a wicked grin and my eyebrows started wiggling. I couldn’t help it.

  “Well, you should get on up there.” Rachel patted his shoulder. “We’d love to hear ya.”

  “I haven’t played in a really long time.” Nixon was still glaring at me, but it was a losing battle. His lips were twitching. Maybe he could tell how much I wanted to hear him play again. How reliving just a snippet of those lunch hours in the music suite messing around on the instruments and making up stupid songs would mean the world to me.

  Nixon had a great voice, and he could play. Our common ground had always been music. It connected us in this almost spiritual way, and if I could just snatch a moment of it…

  “You know, if you get up there, I’ll sing with you,” Rachel encouraged him.

  Nixon’s face bunched with reluctance. “No, I shouldn’t.”

  “I bet you’re still really good,” I singsonged.

  Running his long fingers up the full beer glass, he forced out a chuckle. “If I have to get up there and play, you have to get up there and sing. There’s no way I’m enduring the shame all by myself.”

  My lips pursed as I fought a smile. Not that I was overly keen on getting up there and embarrassing myself in front of a bunch of strangers, but I was suddenly desperate to hear Nix play.

  So, slapping the table, I stood and pointed at the stage. “Lead the way, piano man.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nixon

  I was such a freaking idiot.

  I should have known better than to goad Charlie into doing something stupid.

  The girl had no shame. Of course she’d sing in order to dump me in it.

  Every eye in the place landed on us as we climbed up onto the tiny stage. Rachel grabbed a spare mic and set it up next to the piano while I took a seat and started to sweat.

  Rubbing my hands together, I lightly placed them on the keys, memories flooding back like a tidal wave—Charlie dancing around the music room, singing with abandon while I pounded the keys and harmonized with her.

  My throat swelled as I tried to block them out.

  I was still trying to figure out what her apology was for. Was it because she gave away a little jealousy when she talked about me getting back to my girlfriend?

  Or was it something deeper?

  She looked like she had something to say, her hazel eyes at war while she sat at the table staring at me.

  Was she jealous? The thought was a lick of fire in the back of mind. I’d talked myself into believing that our Yosemite lovefest had been one-sided. Like I’d loved that tent utopia and she’d just put on a good show.

  I could never make myself fully believe it though. I’d felt her fold in my arms. She’d given in to her desire with a passion that met mine strength for strength.

  Being around her again made the memories so colorful and vibrant. Hanging out was the easiest thing in the world, like we’d only been apart for days not years.

  I wanted to be mad at her for the rest of the trip home. Read my damn Kindle until I had no new books left.

  Minimal contact. Keep things quiet and easy.

  But she made that impossible.

  Only Charlie Watson could somehow get me onto a stage like this.

  Only Charlie Watson could keep me there with her nervous, excited grin.

  Rachel introduced us. “Charlie and Nixon, folks. The travelin’ duo.”

  A few confused cheers went up, then dead silence.

  Expectant silence.

  I glanced at Charlie, who was staring down at me. Worry flickered over her features before she winced.

  I laughed at her cute expression, then started drumming the top of the piano, giving her a steady beat for “We Are Young.”

  She picked it up without me having to say a thing and came in right on time.

  It was a stinging reminder of how in sync we’d always been.

  But it was also a thing of beauty.

  I came in for the second part of the first verse, my fingers dancing on the keys like they could never forget, even if I wanted to.

  Singing with Charlie had always sent a thrill right through my body. Goose bumps rippled over my skin while my chest expanded with a warm fuzz I hadn’t felt in a really long time. I loved how we sounded together, and the smile on her face as she sang.

  And I wasn’t the only one.

  By the second chorus, the entire bar was into it, bobbing their heads, pointing at us while they commented to their neighbor, smiling.

  Rachel jumped up just before the bridge kicked in and started singing, “Carry me home…”

  Charlie and I did backup vocals, and the three of us sounded freaking awesome because we were having a blast.

  My best friend grinned at me while she sang her little solo. Then I leaned into the mic and came in, building up the song to the final chorus where she started waving her arms. She soon had a bunch of people doing the same.

  As soon as I wrapped up the song, cheers erupted from the crowd.

  Charlie laughed, the sound melodic and sweet. She took my hand and we bowed together.

  My entire body was buzzing as we headed for our table, getting pats on the back and compliments along the way. When I sat down to take in the monster burger on my plate, I couldn’t do anything but shoot Charlie a wide grin and raise my glass.

  “What are we toasting?” She raised her beer.

  “I don’t know.” I laughed and tapped my glass against hers before gulping down ha
lf the beer.

  It felt damn good.

  It made me realize how impossible it was to stay mad at Charlie.

  And how impossible it was not to feel alive when I was around her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Charlie

  We ended up staying the night in Peyton.

  We’d both had one too many beers to safely drive, so Rachel directed us to a nearby inn—the cutest little place. It was a shame we couldn’t take our time. But Nixon’s alarm went off when it was supposed to, rousing us both from Dead Land.

  I groaned. “Shut that thing up, will ya?”

  “I can’t,” he moaned. “We’ve got ground to make up today.”

  Flinging his covers back, he stood tall and stretched with a loud yawn. I peeked my eyes open and enjoyed the shape of his taut arm muscles.

  He’d never be a super-strong stud or anything. He wasn’t particularly muscly or sporty, but he was gorgeous to me. I loved his lean frame and the fact that I could wrap my arms all the way around him.

  His curves and contours were sexy and beautiful. I could still picture his naked body in that hot little tent. Sweat glistened on his skin while I straddled him and traced a line from his collarbone to below his belly button. He’d gazed up at me with the kind of affection I’d never felt from anyone.

  I was all that mattered.

  Yosemite had been the happiest time of my life—Nixon’s arms around me, his soft lips trailing kisses down my neck. I’d pictured an entire life of that.

  But they were foolish dreams that hadn’t considered the real consequences of everything we wanted. The reality check punched like thunder, shocked like lightning. My aunt spent months trying to coax a smile out of me. Not even Montana’s breathtaking beauty could help me see past my pain.

  The memories made me swallow and close my eyes. I’d allowed Nixon to have the life he was worthy of. I could never hate myself for that.

  He had security, his family…and a girlfriend.

  Clenching my teeth, I got up and dressed, then loaded up the car while Nixon had his turn in the bathroom. In spite of my sadness, I was determined the day would be fun like the night before. Nixon had been his old self again, laughing and having a good time. I needed to keep that going. We still had two days together…and a lot could happen in that time.