Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Sadie
Black Velvet
Alannah Myles
Memphis on a day off feels like someone turned the volume down on the whole world. No schedule taped to my door. No crew storms, no stage calls, no fluorescent backstage buzz. Just quiet sunlight through hotel curtains and the way my body still doesn’t know what to do with rest.
Or with Dean Ross and the kiss he gave me yesterday like he’d been starving.
I wake up with it on my mouth. The memory hits me in phases.
The wind on the bike, the white columns of Graceland, his voice turning soft when he talked about Elvis like a hymn.
And then that moment by the plane where he looked at me like he didn’t know how to keep breathing unless I was close enough to steal it.
And then he did. With one kiss. I press the back of my hand to my lips and stare at the ceiling like it’s going to offer guidance. Of course, it doesn’t. But my phone buzzes and I wonder what kind of message the universe might be sending me.
Lily: Girls’ day? I’m stealing you. Lobby in 20. Wear something cute.
I smile despite myself. Lily doesn’t steal people unless they need stealing.
I roll out of bed, shower, and throw on a simple white tee and denim shorts, and sneakers for once because Memphis heat is not here for my boot nonsense today.
I clip my hair up, grab my camera out of habit, then stop and set it back down.
Today I’m not documenting. Today I’m just going to try existing.
The lobby is calmer than yesterday. Most of the hotel looks like a normal place again. Lily is near the coffee bar with Larkin on her hip and a sun hat perched on her head like she’s auditioning for a summer rom-com.
“You look adorable.” I smile at her.
She grins. “You look like you slept.”
I bark out a laugh. “Debatable.”
Larkin spots me and throws her arms out like she remembers I’m the one who took ten thousand photos of her frosting-faced joy the other day.
“Hi, birthday queen,” I coo, and she squeals.
Lily shifts her to the other hip and lowers her voice. “Luc has her for the morning. We’re going for a wander. You in?”
“I’m in.” I nod, accepting the challenge with delight.
She passes Larkin off to Luc when he appears out of nowhere, and after giving him a kiss, she links her arm through mine as we step outside into the wet-warm Memphis morning.
The air smells like river water and barbecue smoke and something fried that makes my stomach growl.
“Okay,” Lily declares, steering us down the sidewalk. “I want coffee, I want at least one ridiculous souvenir, and I want to see that mural Mikey keeps bragging about.”
“Mikey brags about everything.” I scoff on a chuckle.
“True.” She bumps my shoulder. “But today we let him be right.”
We walk without any rush, and it’s almost unsettling how nice it feels to not have to look over my shoulder for the next place I’m supposed to be. The city is already alive with tourists in shorts, locals in work boots, and music drifting out of open doorways like the sidewalks are wired for sound.
We find a little café tucked off Beale where the barista has pink hair and a drawl as thick as honey.
Lily orders something very Lily, an oat milk latte, extra foam and I get an iced coffee that could strip paint.
We sit by the window. Sunlight pools over the table.
For a few minutes we just watch the city move.
Then Lily asks softly, “So?”
I choke on a sip.
She smiles into her cup. “Relax. I’m not going to interrogate you.”
“Good,” I admit on a laugh, because my heart is already sprinting.
“I’m just letting you know I’m here if you want to talk. About anything.”
There it is. The gentle door. I stare at the condensation on my glass like it’s fascinating. “Sometimes,” I start carefully, “I think I’m fine. And then I realize I’m not. And I don’t really know which one is true anymore because it’s like I’m on a see-saw.”
Lily’s voice goes even softer. “That sounds like someone who’s been holding onto a lot for a bit.”
I exhale. She’s not wrong.
“I’m trying not to be stupid,” I blurt, feeling my cheeks heat at the admission.
“Stupid how?”
I laugh without humor. “Thinking I can tame a man who runs from daylight.”
Lily studies me, not with pity, not with shock. Just with that steady, see-you kind of compassion. “I don’t think you tame someone like Dean,” she continues. “But you wouldn’t want to anyway. Not really.”
The way she says it makes me look up. She shrugs one shoulder. “You want him to choose you. That’s different.”
My throat tightens. Because yes. That’s exactly what I want. I don’t say his name. I don’t have to. It hangs between us anyway like a chord that’s already been struck.
Lily turns her mug slowly. “Dean’s built like a house with no front door.”
“That’s a perfect way to put it,” I whisper as I nod.
“He doesn’t let people in because he thinks every room leads to a fire.” She pauses. “But I’ve watched him. He’s not as numb as he wants everyone to think.”
I don’t trust myself to speak, so I just take another sip.
Lily’s gaze drifts to the window. “Do you know how Luc and Dean met?”
I glance up. “Not really. I know they grew up together and then I figured the band stuff.”
“It was band stuff, but also not.” She smiles faintly. “Luc was the golden boy. The one labels wanted. Dean was a messy, brilliant hurricane with too much hurt in his eyes. After Emily’s accident, they weren’t sure if Dean was going to be able to keep on keeping on.”
“And?”
“And Dean walked into their first rehearsal with the label and played like he’d been born with rhythm in his blood.
Luc just watched him.” She takes a sip of her latte, then continues her story.
“Dean told Luc later that the band was the only thing that gave him purpose. Luc told Dean he would always have it. The band. His friendship. No matter what.”
I smile despite myself.
“I mean, it wasn’t like Luc was going to let the executives tell him who could be in his band. There’s no way he would have signed without Dean.”
“Sounds like Luc.” My voice soft.
“Yeah. But what people don’t see is those two are anchored to each other.
Luc doesn’t say it much, but Dean’s the only person he ever trusted to stand beside him when things got ugly.
And Dean,” Lily’s voice goes tender, “Dean would walk through fire for Luc. He just doesn’t know how to show it without acting like a jerk. ”
I swallow. “Why are you telling me this?”
She meets my gaze. “Because I think it matters that you know he’s capable of devotion.
He just scared of where that devotion could take him.
Scared of feeling that much pain again.” A little shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with the iced coffee.
“At least, this is what Luc has shared with me.”
We leave the café and wander Beale, laughing at souvenir shops selling “ELVIS LIVES” mugs and neon guitar keychains. Lily buys Larkin a tiny pair of sparkly pink shoes that she shows me like a prize.
“She’s going to hate them,” I dare to warn her.
“She’ll love them once she realizes she can throw them at people.”
“Valid.” We’re laughing as we turn a corner, and bam, there they are.
Luc and Dean. Across the street at a record shop with a faded sign and a line of crates outside.
Luc is holding up an album, talking animatedly.
Dean’s leaning on the doorway, listening with that quiet focus he never wears onstage.
They look completely normal. Not like the rockstars they are.
Just two best friends on a day off, bickering about music like its survival.
Dean says something I can’t hear, but Luc’s head falls back in laughter.
Pure, big-brother laughter. Dean smirks, then does a rare thing; he reaches out and shoves Luc’s shoulder, not hard, not playful, just a touch that says I’m here. It hits me in the chest.
Lily nudges me. “See what I mean?”
I nod. I can’t explain the way it makes the world feel safer.
Luc spots us first. He smiles and lifts a hand. “Hey!”
Dean turns. His eyes land on me, and everything in the city goes quiet.
Not because he’s loud. But because he isn’t.
Because his gaze still knows my skin. He doesn’t smile, not fully, but his expression softens around the edges like he can’t help it.
It’s subtle. And it’s enough to make my pulse trip.
“Hey.” I smile, aiming for casual.
“How’s girls’ day?” Luc asks.
“It’s been amazing.” Lily grins. “Looks like it’s boys’ day too apparently.”
Dean looks at Luc like he’s offended by the word boys. “We’re buying records.”
“Mm-hmm,” Lily says. “Very masculine.”
Dean rolls his eyes. I bite back a smile.
“Marie wanted Larkin to herself for a little while, so I grabbed this guy to see what kind of trouble we could get into.” Luc directs that to Lily, then points at me. “You taking an actual break, or are you pretending you’re off but still secretly working?”
“Break,” I admit with a smile, surprised at how good it feels to claim it.
“Good.” He nods. “You deserve it.”
Dean’s gaze flicks to my mouth. Just once. Just long enough for heat to snake down my spine. I feel my cheeks warm and hate that he can do that without touching me.
Lily loops her arm through mine again, as if she senses the storm we’re both pretending isn’t there. “We were about to go see the riverfront. You two coming?”
Luc looks at Dean. Dean’s jaw tightens, then loosens. “We’re supposed to meet Mikey in a bit.”
“Right,” Luc says with zero conviction. “We’ll catch up later.”
Lily feigns insult, “Your loss boys,” and then guides me away. We don’t get far before I glance over my shoulder. Dean is still watching me. His face is unreadable, but his posture isn’t.
He looks like someone trying to decide which direction to walk. Then Luc bumps him with an elbow and says something that makes Dean shake his head like a man who doesn’t know what to do with hope. And they disappear into the shop.
The riverfront is lush and bright, the Mississippi rolling wide and lazy like it owns time itself. We sit on a bench under a tree and eat something fried out of a paper tray that Lily insists she heard is “a Memphis requirement.”
My phone buzzes.
Dean: You good
Two words. No emoji. No punctuation. Yet my heart does that stupid, reckless thing anyway. I stare at it. Then type back: Yeah. You?
Three dots appear.
Dean: Yeah.
I can hear the lie in it.
Lily watches me out of the corner of her eye, but she doesn’t say anything. Just reaches over and bumps my shoulder gently with hers like a quiet I see you.
The afternoon drifts by in warm pieces: Lily telling me about Larkin’s first word (“Mama,” because of course), me telling her about my sister’s latest chaos spree (“Quinn once tried to dye our dog purple… with Kool-Aid”), both of us laughing until our sides hurt.
It feels good. Safe. And somewhere under the laughter, something in me settles.
Not because things are solved. Not because Dean suddenly became a different man.
But because I’m not carrying all of it alone anymore.
As the sun starts to slide lower, Lily checks her phone and smiles.
“Luc says they’re ordering takeout upstairs if we want to join. ”
I stand, brushing crumbs from my shorts. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
We walk back toward the hotel with that easy, floating tiredness you get after a good day. A quiet day. A day that doesn’t demand anything from you except presence.
And as we step into the lobby, I see Dean again. He’s coming out of the elevator with Luc, a bag in one hand, sunglasses pushed up into his hair. When he sees me, his whole body stills for half a beat.
Then he moves. It’s nothing dramatic. Nothing obvious. He just crosses the marble floor and stops in front of me like gravity pulled him there.
“You okay?” his voice quiet and gentle. His eyes are on mine. Not my mouth. Like he’s learning.
“Yeah.” I nod, my mouth curving up. “We had a good day.”
Something eases in his shoulders. “Good.” A beat of silence.
Luc clears his throat loudly. “Alright, lovers. Takeout’s upstairs. Larkin fell asleep mid-banana.”
“Who you calling lovers?” Dean mutters, but there’s no bite to it.
Luc grins knowingly at me as he passes. Lily follows him, already laughing.
Dean and I are left in the lobby in a pocket of quiet.
He shifts, like he’s about to say something and doesn’t know how to shape it.
So, I do what I’m learning to do with him.
I wait. And as expected, he finally speaks, low enough that only I can hear. “I’m glad you went out today.”
My chest loosens. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, Lily’s great.” He nods once, gaze dropping to the floor. “Yesterday was better though. With you.”
I blink, startled. Then laugh softly. “Yesterday was nice.”
His eyes lift again. Something cautious lives there. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I, nod and smile.
He studies me like he’s trying to decide if that’s permission. “Okay.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “So, you in for takeout?”
“Yeah.” I smile. Small. Real. “Takeout sounds great.”
We head to the elevator together, not touching, but close enough that his shoulder brushes mine when the doors open. His hand hovers near my lower back as if he’s fighting the instinct to guide me in. And somehow that restraint is its own kind of tenderness.
The doors close. We ride up in silence, the kind that isn’t awkward anymore. The kind that feels like laying a foundation. And for the first time since Lincoln, I don’t feel like I’m waiting for the fall. I feel like we’re walking toward something.
Slowly. Carefully. But real.