Chapter 29 Rust
RUST
The humid air hums with heat. Even with the thick canopy shielding us from the sun, it still feels like walking through a tub of hot Vaseline.
Sweat trickles down the nape of my neck as I carry a cooler over a little bridge spanning the creek. The old wood groans beneath my steps.
Tally puts down her guitar case and her purse, toeing off her boots and socks. “Totally worth the hike. Erin was right, this is a beautiful spot.” She sits on the edge of the bridge and her mouth forms a delighted ‘O’ as her toes dip into the glittering creek.
“Not beautiful. Perfect,” I add quietly.
But I don’t mean the babbling water or the cattails lining the shore or the dragonflies darting through the air like living sparks of magic.
I mean her.
Pink stains her round cheeks. Her lips are still swollen from making out at the bluegrass concert like teenagers, then fucking like wild animals all night—and again after waking up.
Cut-off denim shorts cling to her thick thighs like a second skin and the front lacing of her yellow peasant blouse has come undone at the top, revealing the gorgeous swell of her breasts.
Everything about her is breathtaking.
I set down the cooler and take off my boots and socks, too. “You and Erin seem to get along well.”
Tally swings her legs, grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah. She wants to be a choreographer but endured some setbacks. In a way, her passion reminds me of my own and I’d love to bring some opportunities her way. Behind the scenes, of course.”
“That’s nice of you.” I cuff my jeans and sit beside her.
“Just tryin’ to be the kind of woman who uplifts other boss babes when they need a hand.”
I smile to myself. As I said, she’s perfect—inside and out.
Goosebumps rush up my calves as my feet touch the water. “Oh, this feels good.”
Tally hums. “You ever notice how water sounds different everywhere?”
I reach into the cooler and crack open a can of beer. “Water’s water, no?” I offer the beer to her but she shakes her head.
“No, it ain’t! Some places it rushes like nature is reminding us of its power. Other places it babbles playfully. Here, it sounds like it’s tryin’ to tell a story.”
“I spend so much time near the water fishing, but I never thought of it that way,” I admit.
If I’m honest, I still don’t hear it. But I love how she sees the unusual in the mundane. The beauty in the ordinary.
“Listen, Big Guy! It’s like a song.”
She takes her guitar from the case and puts it on her lap. Carefully, she plucks the strings as if to capture the sound of the creek, but that’s not all.
Fuck, I know that melody. It’s a variation of ‘Love’s an Outlaw’, our first song. The one we never got to finish.
I chug my beer, trying to keep calm.
“Ugh, I still can’t find the right notes!” Tally looks at me, her gentle gaze holding curiosity. “Can you help me, please?”
“No!” I burst out, shocked at how hard my panicked voice sounds.
But Tally doesn’t bat an eye. Her disposition is as sunny as before. “I thought you couldn’t refuse me anything? But that sounded a whole lot like nope with a side of hell naw.”
My throat tightens and I lubricate it with a gulp of beer. “It’s not that I wanna say no, Trouble. I think I’m gonna make it worse. Told you I’m no use for songwriting anymore… if I was ever any good to begin with.”
“No, you weren’t good, Rust.”
My chest pinches.
“You were great,” she adds with a smirk.
Heat crawls over my neck. “I haven’t written a single note or even one hook since we broke up. Believe me, you don’t need me. If you stick with it, the music is gonna come to you.”
“Relax. I’m not askin’ you to write anything. Just listen and tell me what’s wrong with this, okay?”
I grumble as she picks at the strings. It’s always been a cute tune, but it feels too shallow for the emotional lyrics, as if it lacks a core.
“Does it have to be this particular song?” I ask.
Tally stays silent and keeps playing, staring at the water.
I reckon she knows exactly what’s wrong with the melody. She’s a professional musician and can’t hide behind inexperience anymore the way we did as kids.
No, I’m absolutely convinced she’s making it sound bad on purpose.
She’s baiting me.
“Come on, be honest. What’s been missin’ for over a decade?” she asks. “It’s just us here. No pressure.”
I open my mouth, then shut it again. Who am I to tell a superstar how to write her song?
“Rustin.” She says my name so softly, it feels like a caress over my heart. “Please, I want to hear your opinion. This song is important to me. You are important to me.”
I swallow the apprehension tightening my neck like a noose. “Uh, you… You’re chasing the rhythm too hard. It’s hollow. You need a flow. The music is missing a purpose. Depth.”
Her eyes light up. “Go on.”
“Instead of—No, it’s easier to show you.” I put down the beer. “Can I try?”
Tally’s smile widens. She gives me the instrument and a guitar pick from her pocket. I run a hand over the smooth wood of the body, my stiff fingers brushing over the strings. It’s exquisite. A far cry from my old pawnshop guitar.
I give her a sideways glance. “Alright, I told you I’m outta practice. Don’t expect a masterpiece.”
“No expectations. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”
I take a deep breath. “What if you’d rather start like this…” I strum a few chords.
Tally claps. “Whoo, that’s it!”
My brows shoot up. “You think it’s good?”
“Don’t stop now!”
My heart flutters as I improvise and Tally harmonizes to the melody. She sways, legs dangling and toes splashing in the water.
Her lids close as her voice rises. “Your hands still smell like smoke and pine, your lips still taste like borrowed time.”
Words swell in my chest, demanding to be heard. “You came back like summer rain, washed the dust clean off my pain,” I sing.
Her eyes open, meeting mine like a gentle challenge. “You said you’re tired, outta songs to play, but I see the melody in your heart today.”
Her words strike like an arrow to my ribs, cracking the walls I built to survive a life without her. The heaviness lifts from my shoulders and I feel the music echo in my bones.
“I’d cross the law, risk it all, break every rule. I’d do anything, darlin’, just to be with you,” I sing back at her.
Tally lays a hand on her heart. “Then meet me at the creek when the moonlight shines.”
“Rinse the sin off our hands and leave it all behind.”
She spreads her arms, her smile wild. “Cause baby, love’s an outlaw and on the road we’re free.”
I feel feather-light as I sing, “So let me seal those lips and steal your heart. Won’t you run away with me?”
“Yeah, won’t you run away with me? I wanna run away…” She lets her voice fade with the last notes.
My hands tremble. Tally looks at me, unmoving, unblinking, as if she witnessed an honest to God miracle. It sure feels like one.
“I knew you still had it!” she says triumphantly.
I purse my lips playfully. “You tricked me into writing a song.”
“No, I gave you a gentle nudge with an affectionate twist. There’s a difference.”
I laugh and lean over to kiss her cheek. “Thank you, Trouble. I needed it.”
“Nothin’ to thank me for.” She gets her notebook from her purse and opens a brand-new page. “Now let’s finish this song. Together.”
“It’d be an honor.”
“Okay! We need another verse… a bridge… fine-tune the melody…” She writes ‘Love’s an Outlaw Version 2’ at the top of the page, double underlining it. “And then, bam!” She slaps the paper with the pen. “Got a chart topper right there!”
I hold up a hand. “Alright, alright, alright. Let’s take it step by step. I’m still rusty.”
“Is that a pun or a silent invitation to call you Rusty from now on?”
“Call me Rusty once and I’ll throw you into this creek, woman. Clothes and all.”
“Heard you loud and clear, Rust-in.” She winks. “Now take it from the top, will ya? Cause I won’t leave this spot until we finish this damn song. A decade in the makin’, it’s bound to be the best thing we’ve ever written.”