Chapter 23 Tally
TALLY
Rust smiles earnestly. “Anything for you.”
“Then I’d like to hear you sing.”
His hand slips from mine and he averts his eyes. “Oh, I don’t know, Trouble.”
I interlace our fingers again. “It’s been so long since I’ve heard your voice, Big Guy. I miss it. You play covers in the Coal Bucket and that’s a much larger audience than lil old me.”
His hands shake slightly. “Truth be told, I don’t give a shit what the others think. That makes it easy to perform. But your opinion matters to me.”
“Please, just one song? A short one maybe? And you did say you’d do anything for me…” I give him a wicked grin.
He sighs. “Got me there.”
The air mattress bounces as he hops over the side of the truck bed and rummages through our pile of luggage on the grass. He returns with his guitar and sits on the open tailgate. I settle beside him, my ribs aching as I see the letters etched into the instrument.
They look like the day I carved them.
T + R 4 EVER
I run a finger along the clumsy lines. For a second, I swear I can feel those same lines etched into my heart like scars, throbbing with every beat of my pulse.
Rust clears his throat and starts plucking the strings. I recognize the beginning notes of ‘Change My Mind’ by Riley Green. When the first line of the lyrics hit, goosebumps rush along my arms.
Fuck, he used to be good. Now, he’s brilliant.
His gravelly voice has a richer timbre and the resemblance with Johnny Cash is even stronger. But it’s also distinctly his own, full of emotion with a wider vocal range.
It’s a one-of-a-kind voice. The type to be born once in a generation.
How does he not realize how special he is?
The moon shines on Rust like a spotlight. His lips curl into a soft smile while he sings, but his eyes are fixed on his boots. A blush spreads across his cheeks and I realize he wasn’t playing coy.
He’s genuinely nervous.
When he forces himself to look up at me, I get light-headed like a groupie in the front row. His effortless charm makes this tailgate in the middle of nowhere feel like a world-class stage. Charisma oozes from his every pore.
My heart stumbles.
Oh shit, am I okay? Did I have too much beer? Were the pickles bad?
When the song finishes, Rust winces. “Give it to me straight, Trouble. How bad did I sound? Too much small-town hillbilly pretendin’ he’s a big shot singer?”
I jab a finger at his chest. “You’re the real criminal here!”
His head cocks. “I’m an accomplice to your crime and I’m still willing to take the fall if the cops catch on, but—”
“It’s a fuckin’ crime to hide that voice from the world! A mortal sin!” I throw my hands in the air.
He flushes a deeper shade of pink. Looking like this, he reminds me of the boy I used to know. It makes me want to kiss him.
“Another!” I demand. “Please?” I add with a smile.
“Only if you sing with me.”
“I’d love to.”
He sits a little straighter as he plays the intro of ‘Don’t Mind If I Do’ by Riley Green and Ella Langley. This time, he doesn’t turn away. He looks straight at me. “Do you know this one?”
I nod. He launches into the song and I’m so in awe of him, I almost miss my cue.
My belly is stuffed with butterflies as our voices harmonize perfectly. His eyes light up and I can feel their spark blazing through my veins, too.
For the first time in forever, I’m not just performing a song. I’m not just singing.
I can feel the music. I sense every note running through my blood, every beat in rhythm with my pulse. And I feel Rust, too.
What we got is rare.
I’ve worked with plenty of artists. Usually singing together is a focused effort. You have to listen hard to make sure you get the nuances and harmonies right without overpowering your partner.
But with Rust it’s always been this easy. Natural, like the ebb and flow of the sea.
When the music fades, we stare at each other like it’s the very first time. In a way, it is. We see every version of each other, the kids we once were and the adults we’ve grown into.
And by some miracle, through the scars and the separation, we haven’t grown apart.
It’s like I never left.
No, it’s worse.
It feels like we’re closer than ever. I’d like to blame it on the whole corpse thing and how the adrenaline from covering up a crime brings people together, but deep down I know this connection is something we always had.
The distance didn’t snap the thread of fate between us. It forged it into steel.
I’ve come across plenty of dangerous men in showbiz. Men who lie and cheat. Men who want to use you and abuse you. But Rust with his honest grin and his heart on his sleeve is the most dangerous of them all.
Cause it’s easy to resist the bad apples, to spot the rot from a mile away. But my childhood sweetheart can still sweep me off my feet and make me wanna lay down my head next to his every night—even on a wobbly air mattress.
He calls me Trouble, but this country boy from rural Kentucky is my worst nightmare and my sweetest dream. He’s everything I always wanted. And now I know with ultimate clarity that I won’t survive losing him a second time.
That’s why I gotta draw a line.
When this week is over, friends is the best outcome I can hope for.
“How about we sing ‘Jackson’ next?” I suggest cheerfully, but when that magical atmosphere between us fizzles away, my heart hurts.
It’s for the better.
Rust smiles. If he’s as disappointed as I am about the change in the mood, he doesn’t show it.
He strums a chord. “It’d be my pleasure.”