2. Leo
Ashadow moved over me as I bent to tug out a sneaky weed that invaded my row of brightly colored perennials. I held my sun hat as I lifted my gaze to the newcomer. I noticed the giggling baby first, chubby cheeks and gurgling mouth gnawing on a clear plastic ring. My focus moved up to the massive form blocking the sun. A grumpy man attached to the baby looked down at me behind dark sunglasses.
Nerves set me on edge until I recognized my guest. I didn’t get a lot of visitors, and that was the way I preferred it.
Setting down the pruning shears, I dusted off my gloved hands on my very masculine gardening apron, then stood to greet the brooding man. I tugged my gloves off before tapping my earbuds to pause Neil Peart and the rest of Rush in my ears. The sounds of my peaceful garden rushed in, pun intended, as I did. Birds chirped, and bees buzzed in the gentle sanctuary. I only had a few more weeks of this perfect summer weather before fall swept through Green Valley, but, based on the big man’s scowl, there would be no wasting his time.
I dropped my gloves onto the shears and greeted my unexpected guest, extending my hand. A bead of sweat rolled down my back in the humid summer air.
“Devlin. Good to see you,” I said.
He released one of the hands wrapped protectively around a chubby baby foot to shake my hand. His fist was massive, but I’d seen him play piano with unfathomable gentleness. At least my tall frame and lengthy arms made my profession as a drummer easier. Former profession.
“Leo. The yard looks very . . . colorful.”
“Thanks. My chrysanthemums took a bit to flourish this year. But you know, you just have to give them a little love and attention, and they’ll open up. There was a pretty intense bout of critters, but I managed them.”
I bit my tongue to avoid blabbering about the dangers of infectious local garden pests. I rarely said the right thing at the right time and even less often realized my faux pas until it was too late.
My former music camp counselor and local musical prodigy blinked at me. He’d had his hands full since the birth of his child and taking over the Symphonic Orchestra of Knoxville, aka the SOOK, as a full-time conductor. Not to mention the occasional shows he and his cellist wife, Kim, put on.
He was big and scary when I was a preteen, and not much had changed in the past fifteen years, even though I’d sprouted to over six wiry feet. I was that sort of tall that people didn’t notice as much because I was always the quiet kid, the odd kid. After I left this town and had success, several people from my class were asked about me and said they just thought I was “weird and quiet.” Not much had changed since I’d returned. I’d been avoided like the plague and was still an outcast in my hometown.
I was fine with being left alone. I had Janice and my garden. I didn’t need anything else.
“Anyway. How are you? You have a baby,” I hedged—another pun definitely intended.
Devlin made a sound like a growl in affirmation.
“Cute girl.”
“Boy,” he corrected.
“I thought you had a girl?” I asked as I reached out to wave. The baby reached for me, gurgling happily before Devlin grabbed my hand with two fingers and pushed it away slowly but with determination.
Message received. I guessed my digging through manure didn’t make him keen to let me poke his child.
“I did. Then a boy,” he said.
“Oh wow. Good work.”
“It was mostly Kim.” He glared up at the sun and back toward the baby, tugging the baby’s hat more securely on his head.
“Here, we can sit on the porch in the shade,” I offered and led him to the wraparound porch of the updated craftsman-style house. It was the best gift I ever bought for my mom, and incidentally myself, after moving back. That and the gift of her retirement she was several years overdue for.
Devlin followed me and sat in the wicker chair across from me. “Nice apron, by the way,” he said as he sat.
My threadbare Foo Fighters tee and jeans were partly covered by the army-green canvas gardening apron. “Thanks. It was a gift from my mom.”
“The hat really completes the look.”
“Real men care about skin cancer.” I tapped the large brim of my sun hat. “So. I’m assuming you didn’t come here to catch up about my garden. What brings you down to Clearview Lane?”
Devlin was one of the few people who had reached out to me since my return to Green Valley. Small towns were cesspools of gossip, and my “sudden exit” from The Burnouts was already theorized about enough. We had all signed NDAs, and thankfully, Devlin, a man who had a past of his own, wasn’t about to dig into it. He wasn’t chatty, and we had that in common.
“I came here on behalf of a friend,” he said, jumping right into it.
A nervous tug just below my collarbone had me glancing away. “Are you thirsty?”
“No, thank you.”
“Have you seen my mom in a while? I’m sure Janice would love to see you. She always talks about how you were one of her most prized pupils. I don’t remind her that I was also her pupil for most of my life.”
“Tell her I said hi, but no. I have to be quick. The baby has to be down for a nap in thirty minutes.”
“Gotcha.” I didn’t have kids but knew enough to never mess with a naptime.
I cleared my throat, grasping for another distraction. Devlin didn’t give me the opportunity.
“My friend, the band director at Green Valley High School, needs a favor. We were counselors at camp together,” he said. I didn’t want to act surprised at his mention of friends, but the man had worn a bandanna to cover his face for most of his adult life. He didn’t exactly scream “talk to me” before that, yet even he had more friends than me. “They have a student who plays drums.”
The tugging sensation at my chest grew, as did a tingling sensation under my fingernails. “Oh yeah?” I glanced out at the garden. After he left, I would have to finish pulling weeds and then check on the roses. There had been an aphid infestation earlier in the year, but the ladybugs and neem-oil had helped. I’d need to keep a close eye on it.
Devlin cleared his throat loudly, and I brought my attention back to him. He looked pointedly at where I was aggressively tapping my thumb against my knee. I sat up straighter, trying to keep my nerves under control.
“This kid is incredibly talented. They have an audition for Berklee College of Music in February.”
“Fantastic,” I said.
“But they need a tutor. The talent is there, but they need someone to help prepare them for the audition.”
The dread building up inside my chest poured out, and my thumb tapped wildly again. “Yep,” I said. “Good thing the Erik Devlin lives right here in Green Valley. With a new and improved, fancy recording studio in his home, from what I hear.”
“And a new baby. A toddler. I work full time and so does Kim. Along with my responsibilities with the SOOK, I also work closely with my other friend’s charity, Triple F.”
Another friend? Damn. The Devil of the Symphony had me beat twice over now—unless you count my mom, which I totally did. Janice was rad and fun to hang out with.
“That’s quite the résumé.”
“I don’t have time,” he said with finality.
“The band director friend?”
“No time either. One person to teach all the music classes at the high school. Regardless. Neither of us...” He hesitated and cleared his throat. “Have the talent required to help. I’m proficient at percussion, but it’s not my forte.”
Failure. Loser. Loner.
The pent-up energy was officially bursting out of me. I couldn’t sit still, so I stood to pace.
A fat bumblebee swerved drunkenly toward my guests. Devlin’s whole body tensed, and his massive muscled arms wrapped around to cocoon the baby. I gently shooed the bee back in the direction of my honeysuckles. “Bee free,” I whispered, amused at my joke.
Inside my head, I was chanting, Please don’t ask me. Please don’t ask me.
“Will you tutor the kid?” Devlin asked.
Well, shit.
“Look, man...” I tugged my hand through my sweating hair. “I didn’t go to college. I can’t even read sheet music. What the hell do I know about that stuff? I shot out of this town and on tour the second I was eighteen.”
Vander and I, windows down, flipping the bird to Main Street as we drove our falling-apart tour van out of this small town once and for all, never to return.
At least that had been the plan.
“You and I know it’s more than about reading music,” he said.
“You can’t teach passion.”
“You can uncover it.”
You have greatly overestimated me. “Just take him up to Knoxville,” I said instead. “The city probably offers a lot better options.”
“Her,” he said.
“What?”
“The student. Pronouns are she/her.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, same point.”
“Not enough money. No car.”
“Isn’t that where your other friend’s charity could come in?” I asked, feeling desperate.
“It’s a charity, not a bank. All fueled by donations and volunteers,” he said pointedly.
“I don’t think I’m the right person for this.” I rubbed my chest at the thought of leaving the house, being in town, at the high school, being seen. All the looks of judgment and hatred rolling off the citizens of Green Valley. My own mother didn’t know why I had left The Burnouts, and I wanted to keep it that way. “I have a lot going on,” I said, avoiding his gaze.
Devlin glanced around my idyllic yard.
“Plus, I retired,” I said, dusting off the porch railing. That was what everybody thought, at least. I left the band, took my money, and bought my mom a house in my childhood town. They weren’t entirely wrong. I thought of the drum kit in the basement, covered and untouched since I got back. A cold sensation prickled up the back of my neck as I thought of it in the dark, by itself, after years of rocking out venues filled to the brink with screaming fans.
“Just watch her play,” Devlin said. “You’ll see what I’m talking about.”
“There’s no point.” I sighed, finally meeting his gaze. This kid was auditioning for the big leagues. I was a washed-up rock star with no band. If she wanted a snowball’s chance in hell, she would be better with literally anybody else. “I-I can’t.” I’m not playing, I’m not good enough. “I’m busy.”
“With the Bunco Broads?” he asked.
“Those women take their game very seriously. Janice had to vouch for me to get in, and I’m hanging on by a thread. Plus, I have plans to look into beekeeping and maybe start incorporating local fruit trees. I just don’t have time.”
His dark gaze scrutinized me. I looked away. I remembered this from camp, the way he scared the shit out of us with just one long stare, like he was reading out all our biggest insecurities.
“That’s disappointing,” he said after a beat.
I clenched my jaw. Devlin was the closest thing I had to an older brother figure, so his words cut me. I was trying to protect the girl. I wasn’t the right person for this.
Devlin’s phone chirped, and he stood.
“Tell your friend the band director I’m sorry, but I can’t help him,” I said.
“Her.”
“Oh for three,” I said softly. “Tell her I wished it were different, but I’m not the guy for the job.”
Devlin stood. “She’s not going to like this.”
I shrugged. If I were a different person on a different path, maybe I would be the right fit to help. But I wasn’t. And anyway, I was happy here. Or at least getting closer toward whatever that meant. Things were fine. Why would I want to introduce any complications into my sublime retired life?
“She can be...tenacious,” he added, scratching the back of his neck.
“She’ll find someone.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” And with that not at all ominous goodbye, baby and scary man walked down the porch and to his car.
“Devlin—” I wanted to shout after him that I once single-handedly stopped a fight at a show by diving into the crowd. I could handle a local band teacher, but the words got tangled on my tongue. I didn’t want to disappoint Devlin, but the time wasn’t right. “I’m sorry,” I said.
Devlin shook his head. “Okay,” he said with a wave. He didn’t glance back, his large frame having to duck under my archway covered in creeping trumpet vines.
I wiped my forehead, feeling a chill despite the intense heat.
“Pfft,” I said to myself. “What is the worst she could do?”