Chapter 2
SCOTT
She’s here.
I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve this kind of karma from the universe, but I’ll be forever grateful because she’s fucking here.
Madison.
Or, I guess she goes by Madi. I only ever heard the nurses call her Ms. Madison when I was visiting her at the hospital, and it feels good to learn something small about her that I didn’t know before. Especially when she’s been such an ever-present question in the back of my mind over the past few years since I found her lying in an alley a few blocks from where we are stand right now.
“Finally?”
I tilt my head to the side. “What?”
“You said finally. Nice to finally meet you.”
At that, l let out an awkward chuckle, having always known if we met—for real—I’d have to explain how I know her. Though I guess I don’t, really.
Rubbing at the stubble along my jaw, I try to think over what I should say in response, how to explain to her who I am. What I absolutely don’t want is to scare her or bring back any emotions or fears from that night.
She speaks before I do, her beautiful, caramel-colored eyes locked on mine.
“I knew that song. The one you guys played, the new one.”
My eyebrows lift in surprise.
“I’ve been hearing it for years in my head,”
she continues, “but I’ve never known why.”
Madi takes another step forward so there’s just a foot or so between us. “Do you know why?”
I do. It’s because she was the inspiration for its creation. Because I wrote it as I sat in a chair next to the door just inside her hospital room. Because once it was finished, I played it for her every night that I could.
The fact that she knows it—that she’s been hearing it in her head—fills something inside of me that I didn’t know was empty.
“I sang that song to you when you were in the hospital,”
I finally say, wondering how she’ll respond.
It’s not every day you find out some guy sat in your hospital room while you were unconscious, playing music. As much as I know I’m a good guy, she doesn’t know me at all. Part of me expects her to recoil, step back in shock, and make a face of disapproval.
What I don’t see coming is that smile.
My god.
That. Smile. I’ve never seen Madi smile before, and it sends a shock straight through me. It’s bright and wild and beautiful, better than I ever could have imagined.
Then she steps forward and wraps her arms around my shoulders, her chest flush with mine, pulling me in tight.
“I’m sorry for hugging you without asking,”
she says, her voice a sweet whisper near my ear. “Especially because I just finished working out. But oh my god, I felt like I was going crazy.”
I bring my hands to her back, my eyes closing as I breathe her in, the fresh, citrusy smell of whatever lotion or perfume she’s wearing completely at odds with the city. It takes effort to keep my hands braced against her back instead of letting them roam and tug her in closer, which feels so natural.
“I heard that song over and over again, but I couldn’t figure it out. I didn’t…”
She pauses and pulls back so she can look me in the eye. “I thought I made it up. The guitar. The words.”
Her eyes dip to my mouth for a beat. “Your voice.”
The urge to kiss her sweeps through me, but I hold fast. This is a woman who has been through plenty, a woman I don’t actually know, regardless of how close I feel to her after the weeks I spent at the hospital and how many times I’ve thought of her over the years. I’ve literally dreamt of this moment, wondered what it might be like if we bumped into each other in the chaos of this big world, what I might do or say.
And now, she’s here.
Right here.
In my arms.
She brings her forehead to mine and closes her eyes. “Are you the one who saved me?”
she whispers.
I nod. “Yeah,”
I whisper back. “I am.”
Madi opens her eyes, and I see they’re brimming with tears just before she pulls me back in for another hug. Her hands grip me tightly like she doesn’t ever want to let go, and this time, I don’t resist the urge to pull her in closer. Holding her in my arms just feels right.
Why does it feel so right?
“Dude, what the hell was that?”
The sound of my brother’s voice behind me shatters the intimacy of this moment, and whatever little cocoon we were in evaporates, letting in the sounds of the city and the glaring street lights and the people passing us by.
“You just fucking bailed? We’re in the middle of a show.”
I turn, releasing Madi. I look at Shawn standing a few feet away, his arms crossed and an irritated expression covering his face. He looks like he could spit nails.
“Madi, this is my brother, Shawn,”
I say. “Shawn, this is Madi.”
He rolls his eyes. “Did you even hear me? You need to get back inside.”
“This is Madison.”
My words come out tersely as I stress her name, a name he’s very familiar with.
Shawn blinks, and then his head jerks back, realization visibly rolling through him. “Madison, Madison?”
he clarifies.
As if there could ever be another one.
We were together on the night I found Madison in the alley. He went with me to the hospital and sat with me in the lobby as I waited for an update, covered in blood and dirt from kneeling on the ground and picking her up then holding her as we sped through the city streets. His smile grows wide on his face as he realizes who she is, and he claps his hands together.
“Well, holy shit!”
He steps closer and brings her in for a hug, making her laugh. “So glad to see you up and well,”
he says, moving back and assessing her before looking at me. “Now your little skedaddle off stage makes a bit more sense.”
I roll my eyes. “Nobody says skedaddle.”
He ignores my comment. “Look, now that you’ve met while she’s conscious, get her number, then get your ass back inside, alright? We’re still performing.”
He winks at Madison and backs up to the doors of Rhythm & Brews. “Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”
I snort at his blatant flirting as he disappears back into the bar, knowing the showboat inside him can’t keep from doing shit like that.
“Sorry about him,”
I say to Madison, turning back to look at her.
She grins. “He seems nice.”
I chuckle, though it fades when I realize I have to head back in. “I do need to get back to the show, though,”
I say. “Can I get your number? We’re in town for a couple of days, and I…”
“Yes.”
Her response is quick, and she tucks her chin for a beat and shifts on her feet. “Yes, you can have my number.”
We take a quick second to swap information, and once I have her name in my phone, I look at it for a long second.
Madi Ross.
I didn’t know her last name before, and getting that next piece of information feels like a treasure. I tuck my phone away in my pocket, already eager to use it and planning to text her as immediately as possible.
“I guess you need to go back in there,”
she says, and I don’t think I’m imagining the tinge of disappointment in her voice.
I nod. It’s a struggle for me to step away from her. Part of me can’t help but fear I’ll lose her again after waiting so long to find her. I reach out and tuck some of her loose hairs behind her ear, then stroke my thumb along the sharp angle of her jaw and chin.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,”
I tell her.
Madi nods. “You better.”
I grin.
After a few more seconds of just staring at her beautiful face—her wide eyes and button nose and heart-shaped mouth—I finally do the impossible and go back inside. Once I’m on the stage a few minutes later, I pick up my guitar and slip the strap over my shoulder. I feel distracted as Shawn speaks into the mic. We start the next song, and it takes incredible mental effort to get myself into the right headspace.
But then, over the heads of the crowd, my eyes catch sight of the doors at the entrance opening again, and my heart thuds as Madi walks through and takes a seat at the bar.
She’s still here.
Performing like this—with a vibrant audience and high energy—is something I have always lived for, but having Madi here to watch me brings things to new heights, and I play my heart out knowing she’s watching. The next hour flies by as we rock out to song after song, focusing on the ones that have been getting the most plays over the past year. It’s wild to think back to where I was just a few years ago when Shawn and I were barely scraping by and trying to make a name for ourselves. Now, we’re playing sold-out shows and going on tour. It’s a dream we fought long and hard for.
When we wrap for the night, I don’t take the time my brother does to meet fans or sign autographs. I just want to play, but my brother wants the lifestyle, which works out perfectly because they all prefer Shawn anyway.
Instead, I slip through the crowd, ignoring any attempts to get my attention, and head in the direction of where Madi is waiting, still at the bar.
“You stayed,”
I say, unable to hide my grin as I approach where she sits, sipping a glass of wine.
Madi nods. “I did.”
“Why?”
At that, she tilts her head to the side, her expression growing soft. “I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.”
I nibble on the inside of my cheek as I consider my words, finally deciding to just say exactly what’s on my mind.
“Do you want to get out of here?”
Her lips curve. “Absolutely.”