He steps closer, leans in to rub Henry under the chin and says, “I’m sure there are a couple others.”
“We’re a select few. So where’s your bike?”
“Thought I’d make better time in my dad’s Jeep. And I got a late start.”
“Nathan. What are you doing here?”
He holds up the garment bag, looking hopeful when he says, “My sister thought you might like these two. She said you’re about the same size, so they should fit.”
I shake my head a little. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“Not when I have a worthy goal. Will you at least try them on?”
“You mean now?”
He gives me a look, as if he’s not sure I’m serious. “Ah, maybe later when you’ve got a mirror.”
“A dress isn’t going to turn the ugly step-sister into Cinderella.”
He lowers himself onto the ground beside me, his back against the barrel, his gaze fixed ahead, as if he can’t bring himself to look at me. “Ann-Elizabeth, you already are Cinderella. You don’t need a dress for that.”
“I wasn’t fishing for compliments,” I say quickly, not wanting him to think I was.
“I know. But you are.”
I shiver, not sure whether to attribute it to the chill in the night air or the fact that Nathan’s shoulder is touching mine.
“Are you cold?” he asks, looking at me now.
“No,” I say.
“Mind if I ask why you’re doing your homework out here?”
“Because I like to do it out here with Henry.”
Nathan doesn’t say anything for a good long while. “You can’t stay out here through the winter.”
“I’m hoping Mama will kick him out before it gets too cold.”
“Do you think she will?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“You’ll freeze out here.”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”
“What does your mom see in him?”
I shrug. “The only thing I can figure is that she thinks she deserves someone like him.”
“That’s messed up.”
I glance off into the darkness. “Based on how she grew up, I kind of get it.”
“How did she grow up?”
“Feeling like she wasn’t supposed to be.”
“I read somewhere that girls either pick someone exactly like their dad or the complete opposite. Think that’s true?”
“Probably. Guess I won’t have to worry about that theory since I never knew mine.”
“What happened to him?”
“He opted out.”
“His loss.”
I look at Nathan, wondering a little at the sincerity in his voice. “This must all seem like another planet to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that I imagine your life is very different.”
“It’s pretty normal.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s just what I know. But I guess it’s human nature to take for granted what we have.”
“Do you? Take it for granted?”
“Probably. I don’t know.”
“I aspire to normal.”
“I’m sorry, Ann-Elizabeth.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“What can I do?”
“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head. “As soon as I finish high school, Henry and I will be out of here.”
“You planning to go to college?”
“I’ll be getting a job.”
“Where?”
“Whatever I can get hired to do in Nashville. Within reason,” I hastily amend. “I want to be around the music industry. Learn whatever I can. Maybe try to get in a band.”
As soon as I say the words, I can’t believe I’ve said them out loud.
“Yeah?” he says.
“It probably won’t happen, but it’s nice to have a dream.”
“If you want it, it can. My dad started out with nothing but a dream.”
“He sure made it big.”
“I don’t think it was too easy.”
“How did he make it?”
“He’s told me different things through the years, what it was like in the beginning. But I think his philosophy was you just never give up. He had plenty of roadblocks. Right after he got his first publishing gig with one of the bigger houses in Nashville, somebody stole his notebook full of lyrics. Everything he’d written for the past couple of years was just gone. He had to start all over again.”
“That’s horrible!” I say, unable to imagine losing that much work. “He never got it back?”
Nathan shakes his head. “A few years ago, a song got released by Chuck Lane that was a dead ringer for one of my dad’s lyrics. The writer ended up being the one who stole the notebook. He actually confessed when my dad confronted him.”
“Did he get it back?”
“No. He had burned it after selling that song. I guess he got scared he was going to get caught. Which he did.”
“Did he go to jail?”
“My dad let it go. He said maybe it had been a blessing in disguise that he had to start over with his first publishing gig. Losing that notebook made him more determined than ever to write the best stuff he could.”
“That’s pretty admirable. I don’t know if I could have done that.”
“Me either.”
The night air has dropped a few degrees since Nathan arrived, and I shiver a little despite my jacket. I zip up the front and slip the sleeves down over my hands.
“I don’t want to leave you out here tonight,” he says.
“We’re fine,” I say, reaching out to rub Henry’s head.
“You can’t keep doing this, Ann-Elizabeth,” he says.
“It’s not forever. One winter won’t kill me.”
“It might,” he says in a serious voice.
“If it gets too cold, I’ll sneak Henry into my room and just risk Lance finding out.”
“You got any metal cutters to get that lock off his neck?”
“No.”
“I’ll bring you some next time I come.”
Something warm and promising unfurls inside me. Next time I come. I’d like to deny how happy the thought makes me but what good does it do to try and fool your own self? “That’s nice,” I say in a low voice.
“It’s not right that you two are living like this because of him.”
“I’m not sure right counts for much in this world,” I say, thinking then of Brandy and the unfairness of her life at home.
“Please go with me to Homecoming, Ann-Elizabeth,” Nathan says, surprising me with the abrupt change of subject. “If you don’t have a good time, I’ll never ask you out again.”
I let my gaze meet his, unable to deny the earnestness in his eyes. I hear Brandi’s voice. This is a good thing. You deserve a good thing. “You don’t give up easily, do you?”
“Apparently not.”
“Okay,” I say before I can stop myself.
“Really?” he asks, a grin breaking across his face.
“You’re not really shocked, are you? Have you ever been turned down for a date?”
“Well, no, but I thought for sure you were going to be the first time.”
I laugh a little, shaking my head. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
He jumps to his feet, pulling me up beside him. My chest bumps against his, and a cascade of feeling flutters through me. I draw in a sharp breath, righting myself with a hand on his arm. He looks down at me, our eyes revealing things our lips aren’t yet ready to admit.
“You should get going,” I manage in a barely audible voice. “It’s late.”
“I don’t want to leave you out here,” he says, sounding truly worried.
“I’m fine,” I say. “We’re used to it.”
“It’s not right, Ann-Elizabeth.”
“It’s not forever.”
“You’re brave. Maybe the b
ravest person I’ve ever known.”
“You haven’t known many people then. And I’ve got Henry to protect me. Would you want to tangle with him?”
“That’s the only good thing about it. He’s not going to let anyone hurt you if he can help it.”
“No, he’s not.”
He takes a step back, clearly reluctant to go. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Don’t forget to try on the dresses. See which one you like.”
“I will.”
“Okay, then,” he says, backing into the dark.
“Hey, Nathan?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. For the dresses. And for listening.”
“Anytime.”
“‘Night.”
“‘Night,” he calls out and then turning around, jogs back to the Jeep.
I sit down next to Henry, loop my arm around his neck as the engine growls to life and then rolls off down the dark road, headlights flashing on once he’s away from the driveway.
I lean over and kiss the top of Henry’s head, rubbing his left ear. “I know what you’re thinking,” I say softly. “Too good to be true, right?”
Henry sighs, resting his head on my leg, his eyes closing.
“What if it isn’t? Wouldn’t that be great?”
I sit for a moment, listening to the beginning of Henry’s quiet snoring. “Don’t you worry though,” I say. “Our plans are the same. The day I graduate from high school, you and me, we’re out of here.”
Even as I say the words out loud, I feel a stab of guilt for the thought of leaving Mama behind. I don’t want to. But she’s chosen Lance over me and Henry. I don’t know who I’m more protective of. Mama or Henry. I go back and forth. They’re both vulnerable to Lance, even if it’s in different ways.
You would think Mama has the advantage though. She’s a person, after all, who has a car, and if she wanted to, could kick Lance out of our house and never let him come back.
I just pray that we make it to the end of the school year without something awful happening. That I can continue to keep him out of my room.
I shiver at the memory of the last time he’d pushed his way in, newly repulsed by what might have happened if Mama hadn’t come home when she did.
I wonder what Nathan would think about that. But I shut that line of thought off because I don’t want the pureness of what he has shown me so far tainted by the ugliness of Lance’s mean heart.
Henry opens his eyes and looks up at me, and I know he’s felt my fear. “It’s all right,” I say, pulling my blanket up around us both. “You go to sleep.”
He puts his chin back on my leg, but he doesn’t close his eyes right away, as if he’s not convinced we’re safe. I’m not surprised though. Because I’m not convinced either.
*
Nathan
DAD IS AGAIN waiting up for me when I get home.
“Sorry I’m late,” I say, sticking my head in the living room where he’s watching something on Netflix.
“You know the rule, son,” he says, muting the TV. “If you’re not going to make curfew, touch base and let us know. That way, we don’t worry.”
“Sorry,” I say again. “Lost track of time.”
“Same reason as last night?”
I nod, not elaborating.
“You like her?”
“She’s nice.”
“Good to know.”
I walk into the living room, sit down across from my dad’s chair. “She sleeps outside at night with her dog.”
He looks as shocked as I expected him to. “Why, son?”
“Apparently, her mom’s boyfriend is a real jerk and kicked Ann-Elizabeth’s dog Henry out when he moved in. She sneaks out after they go to bed so he’s not out there alone.”
My dad nods a little, processing silently, the way he does when he’s not sure what to make of something. “Social services should probably know about this, Nathan.”
“No,” I say instantly. “You can’t do that. She would hate me.”
“Son. How can she stay out there through the winter?”
“I don’t know. I think she’s taking it one night at a time. It’s not that cold yet.”
“No, but it will be. Is the boyfriend abusive?”
“She didn’t say that. I get the impression she’s scared of him though.”
My dad shakes his head, and I know this is going to bother him. “I shouldn’t have told you.”
“You were right to. Not sure what we can do, but I’d like to think about it.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“You’ll tell me if there’s something we need to do?”
I nod, hoping that doesn’t turn out to be the case.
He’s quiet for a moment, and then, “You wanna sit in on my session with Holden tomorrow?”
“Really?” I ask, surprised.
“Yeah. I texted him earlier. He was cool with it.”
“That would be incredible.”
“You’ll have to miss school. The session is at nine-thirty.”
I think about the fact that I’d told Ann-Elizabeth I would see her in school, wish she had a phone so I could let her know. Even as I think the thought, I realize I’m going a little off the deep end. “That would be really cool, Dad. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. We’ll leave here at 8:45. We’re writing at his house. They’ve got a studio there where they record demos.”
“Awesome,” I say. “‘Thanks.”
“‘Yep. Night, son.”
“Night.”
I head up the stairs, stoked at the thought of sitting in on a session with Holden Ashford. But then I think about Ann-Elizabeth and the glaring differences in the lives we lead. And again, I feel a stab of guilt for the things I have that I’ve done nothing to deserve.
*
Ann-Elizabeth
NATHAN’S NOT IN class.
I don’t realize how much I’ve been looking forward to seeing him until I see he isn’t in school today.
I wonder if he’s sick. Or maybe he got in trouble for being out so late. Although I doubt it. His parents seem pretty cool with his schedule.
I’m walking out the door at the end of class when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn to see Matt, one of Nathan’s friends from the football team, studying me with a look of uncertainty, as if he’s not sure he should be approaching me. “Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” I say back.
“Ah, Nathan texted and asked me to tell you he’s doing something with his dad today.”
“Oh.”
“That’s why he’s not in school.”
“Okay.”
Matt shifts his backpack and steps away. Carlie Jennings walks up and stops next to Matt, putting her hand through his arm. She glances up at him with a smile, then looks at me as if she’s not sure what to make of the two of us talking.
“Hey, Matt. Where’s Nathan today?”
He shrugs. “Had something to do. He wanted me to let Ann-Elizabeth know.”
Carlie is Nathan’s ex-girlfriend, and I’m wondering what Matt’s angle is in telling her this. She stares at me for several seconds, saying nothing, even as her thoughts play across her face. I’m pretty sure they go something like this. What? The? Heck?
She glances up at Matt, her expression now one of disbelief. “Why would he want Ann-Elizabeth to know?”
He shrugs, gives me a smile and says, “Maybe you ought to ask her that. Gotta get to class, girls. See ya.”
And he’s loping off down the hallway, leaving me with a now-glaring Carlie.
“You know we’re a thing, right?” she asks, her face now devoid of any pretense of pleasantry.
“I know you were a thing,” I say, forcing myself to meet her chilly gaze and not take a step back.
“We’re taking a break,” she says, indignant. “That’s all.”
“Oh. That must be why he asked me to Homecoming.”
“Wh
at?”
The question erupts from her on a knife-sharp note. “You’re lying. He wouldn’t.”
“I doubt you’re anymore surprised than I was.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Okay. I get it. He’s just trying to make me jealous.” She smiles and shakes her head, as if she now has a clear understanding of how something so ridiculous could have happened to upset the otherwise acceptably predictable apple cart of her life.
“It appears to be working,” I say.
She draws her head back, clearly offended. “Who are you, anyway?”
“Ann-Elizabeth Casteel,” I say and head for my next class.
*
Nathan
I READ THE text from Matt just as we pull up in front of Holden Ashford’s mansion in one of, if not the, most exclusive neighborhoods in Nashville.
Carlie currently drilling Ann-Elizabeth re: you
Crap.
If Ann-Elizabeth hasn’t already changed her mind about going out with me, a face-to-face with Carlie ought to do it.
“What is it?” my dad asks, obviously hearing my sigh.
“Just Carlie being Carlie.”
“Ah. Well, we’re here,” he says, cutting the engine to the Jeep.
“Whoa,” I say, taking in the enormous house before us.
“Yeah,” Dad says. “Country music does pay.”
“Apparently.”
“It’s all good,” he says. “Their fans love them. And I don’t know anyone who gives back as a band more than Barefoot Outlook.”
We get out and walk up to the front door. We’re both carrying our guitar cases, and I have to admit I feel a little like an imposter. “You sure I shouldn’t leave this in the car?” I ask.
“I think you’re gonna need it,” he says, knocking on the door.
I know my dad is comfortable with this. I know he writes with big name artists all the time, but something inside me balks at the thought of being given an opportunity I haven’t earned.
I think about Ann-Elizabeth’s dreams and how she’s already said she knows they’ll involve a tall ladder. And here I am, standing at the front door of one of country music’s biggest stars, simply because my dad slid me a break.
The Heart That Breaks Page 6
