Chapter 14
“Penn! I’m here,” Austin calls from my living room.
“I’m almost ready! I’ll be down in a sec,” I say around my toothbrush. Once I’ve finished in the bathroom, I hurry back to my room to finish getting dressed.
Today is the River Fest on Main Street, and I dressed up more than usual since there’s the street dance tonight with the local cover band, The Late Nighters, performing. I’m wearing my favorite sundress—it’s creamy white with a pattern of tiny blue and yellow flowers and spaghetti straps that tie at my shoulders.
When I step into the living room, Austin is perched on the edge of the couch absentmindedly scratching Honey’s head. He’s scribbling in his notebook unaware of my presence so I study him. Since the night of his nightmare he’s been a lot more subdued. Quieter. The day after he texted asking if I’d be upset if we didn’t have dinner together that night. I wasn’t surprised. I’m sure he needed time to process everything that had happened. Of course I told him I understood.
It’s clear a lot is weighing on his mind that he’s trying to sort through. I’ve even heard it in his songs as we’ve recorded this week. There’s a rawness, a vulnerability in his lyrics and I’ve come to realize these aren’t just song lyrics. They’re pieces of his story, snippets of him. His sessions this week have been a lot more intense with later nights while we all work to do every song justice. We’ve worked so late that most nights we order take-out or Lisa drops in with food.
There’s also been a shift between us since his nightmare. Neither of us has acknowledged it, but something is building, and all bets are off on who will cave first. Seeing him in such a vulnerable position broke my heart into a million pieces, and when I spent the next day putting those pieces back together, I realized that in a very short time, I’ve developed feelings for this man. The clock is ticking on Austin’s time in Singing River, but despite all the unknowns, not falling for him is becoming damn near impossible.
Josie was right when she predicted I’d throw my rule book out the window. In my head I’ve rewritten every single one of them. I’ve been debating for the last few days whether I should give him the green light once his studio time ends. At least then he won’t be my client. That was rule number one. Don’t date the clients. That’s an easy fix. I’m excited about this and absolutely terrified at the same time.
Austin’s phone buzzes, interrupting my musings, and I watch him glance down, his expression darkening, before turning it over with a measured exhale. Clearing my throat so I don’t startle him, I slowly enter the room. He holds up a finger in a one second gesture and finishes what he’s writing, brows pinched in concentration. But when he looks up, his entire face shifts. His brows relax and his eyes widen, his lips parting slightly. Standing, he walks over to me, until we’re just a few inches apart.
“You look beautiful.” Austin lets out a quick breath. “Absolutely perfect.”
“Thank you.” Unlike when we were fishing and he told me that, today I accept the compliment, beaming up at him. It takes everything I’ve got not to preen under his attention.
Since we’ve put in extra hours recording this week, we decide to take a half day off so everyone can attend the festival. I’m hoping today will be a good distraction for Austin and whatever emotions are roiling inside of him.
It’s oddly mild for the end of July, only eighty-five degrees, which is practically cool for Alabama. The forecast predicts rain later tonight, but right now it’s sunny. Still, we drive there in case the rain starts earlier than expected.
The artisans are still setting up when we arrive, white tents lining both sides of Main Street, and in the parking lot beside Jackson’s diner a bouncy house already has a line of kids forming. Josie’s son, Jay, is in the line, his blond hair plastered to his head from sweat. I spot Josie and Abby and we head in their direction. When we reach them Josie leans over to whisper in my ear.
“Abby came fully prepared to meet Austin. She asked if she could wear my makeup. I haven’t had the heart to tell her she’s giving Effie Trinket vibes, though.”
Stifling a laugh, I glance over to where Abby is standing a few feet away. She’s looking down at her phone, a moody cloud of teen angst swirling around her. Two bright pink splotches of blush dot Abby’s cheeks, contrasting her tan complexion, and mascara is caked on her already long lashes. She’s wearing an Austin James t-shirt, and I nudge him in the ribs, rising on my toes to whisper in his ear.
“Just letting you know Josie’s daughter is obsessed with you. Big fan.”
His mouth quirks at the corner, but all he does is mouth “ noted ” to me.
Abby looks up from her phone, and I clock the moment she spots Austin. She goes white as a sheet, standing stock still and unblinking. After several seconds of staring, she seems to gain her composure, because she goes right back to staring at her phone, tapping furiously at the screen.
Austin steps closer to Abby, lowering his voice. “I can sign the back of your shirt if you want. Maybe Jackson has a Sharpie you can borrow?” She starts bouncing on the balls of her feet, excitement buzzing off her. Finally, she nods then runs off to find a Sharpie.
“That was sweet of you. You’re a big ol’ softie,” I whisper, nudging him with my elbow.
He chuckles, shaking his head. A few minutes later, Abby returns with the pen and he quickly signs her back.
To my #1 Fan, Abby, Thanks for listening.
-Austin James
Before long, Greg and Lisa, Liam, Ed and his wife, Carol, are here, and even Jackson runs out for a minute to see us. We chat with everyone for a few minutes, but then break off to make our way up and down the street, moving from one booth to another.
The handmade jewelry booth has always been my favorite and I stop to look at every necklace on the display. One catches my eye, but when I see the price, I put it back. In my periphery, Austin reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet.
"We'll take it," Austin says, handing over his credit card.
"That's unnecessary," I protest. It might be beautiful, but I can't let him buy it for me. First our groceries, and now this?
The artisan raises an eyebrow, looking back and forth between us. After a few seconds’ hesitation, I give in. "Okay, but just this one thing. Nothing else today."
After swiping his card, I’m handed the necklace. I hold it up to admire how it catches the sunlight, flashing shades of blue and purple. I think it might be the most beautiful piece of jewelry I've ever owned.
“Will you help me?” I ask, holding the necklace out to Austin. He takes it and I turn, draping my hair over my shoulder. He secures the clasp, and right before I’m about to put my hair back in place, he trails his fingertip down my spine. Something hot and unrestrained coils tight in my belly, slowly traveling lower. Yep, it’s only a matter of time before I break.
“Do you wanna see it?” the artisan asks, interrupting my thoughts. She holds out a handheld mirror and I take it, admiring the pendant lying at the hollow of my throat.
“What kind of stone is this?” I ask.
“It’s a rainbow moonstone. It represents hope and new beginnings. And according to some people, love.” She hands me a flyer explaining the meaning of several stones.
My eyes swing up to Austin’s and he smiles, pulling me in for a side hug. His lips press to my temple and the flutter of a million tiny wings take flight in my belly.
We continue up the street stopping at every booth along the way. A new vendor is here this year, and I step closer to check it out. Behind a vintage typewriter sits a guy about my age, offering personalized poems for ten dollars.
I sit across from him to fill out the questionnaire for the poem and Austin leans over me, his hand resting on the back of the chair. The questions are simple: career, hobbies, and any specific themes I’d like him to explore. Once I complete the form, I slide it back to him, along with a ten-dollar bill. He smiles warmly and tells us he'll have it ready in ten minutes.
We pass the time browsing nearby booths, and when we make our way back around, I step up to the poet’s booth while Austin heads to the stage to listen to a group of teenagers covering ’90s rock songs. Taking the piece of paper that the poet offers me, I allow my eyes to skim over the uneven typed lines on the page.
Two hearts wait, in quiet disguise
With stolen glances and subtle sighs.
All their words stay trapped inside
Both afraid to cross that line.
But with each day, something grows,
the longing deep that neither shows.
I look up, one eyebrow raised. “I filled out a questionnaire, but this isn’t anything from that.” Quickly I glance to make sure Austin isn’t heading my way. Thankfully, he’s still distracted by the band onstage.
“I dabble in tarot readings too. Sometimes, when I’m composing a poem, it’s like something takes over—something deeper than the answers on the questionnaire. I have no choice but to type what my inner voice is saying.” He taps the paper in my hand. “This right here was too strong to ignore.”
My heart races, and my brows knit, turning his words over in my mind.
“I can give you a refund if you’re unhappy.” He starts reaching into his cash box, but I stop him.
“Goodness, no, of course not. I was just surprised, that’s all. Thank you for the poem; it’s truly lovely,” I reply, carefully folding the paper into thirds and tucking it into my purse. Before I walk away, I can’t help but ask one last question. “How’d you know?”
He simply shrugs, and smiles mysteriously at me. I can see how he’d be an excellent tarot reader. “It’s written all over your faces.”
When I get to Austin, he reaches out his hand. “Can I read it?” he asks.
“It wasn’t a very good poem,” I lie. “Let’s keep walking.” I loop my arm through his while silently praying he won’t ask to see it again. It’s not that the poem is bad; in fact, I was being honest when I told the guy that it’s a lovely poem.
“C’mon. Let me see it. It can’t be that bad. I’ve written some pretty awful song lyrics before. I promise I won’t judge the guy.”
It’s a stand-off between Austin’s charm and my stubbornness. Reluctantly, I reach into my purse and pull out the poem, placing it in his outstretched palm. I stare at my painted yellow toenails as he studies the paper.
When he’s finished he folds it back up, and with his index finger he reaches under my chin, tugging it up so I’m looking at him. I chew my bottom lip as our eyes meet.
“It’s a good poem. I think it speaks some truths.” There’s an understanding in his eyes and I return the look. The rest of the day I bite back the goofy smile that keeps trying to dance across my lips.
* * *
The sun has set, and the string of lights that zig-zag above our heads illuminate the faces of everyone milling about. Most of the under twenty-one crowd has headed home, including Josie's kids. Greg and Lisa left early, taking Abby and Jay home with them for the night.
The Late Nighters are setting up to perform, and there's a buzz of energy in the air. Austin has disappeared into the bar with Liam, and Josie takes advantage of our time alone, sidling up next to me.
“I took Jay to the barber shop yesterday, and Henry said he saw you and Austin canoodling on a picnic blanket down by the river.”
Shaking my head, I squint my eyes at her. “Who the hell says canoodling?” Despite the flicker of worry in my belly, I can’t bite back the laugh that escapes my lips. Henry is the town gossip and I can only imagine what he’s saying.
Josie puts her hands up, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying, that's the word he used. His exact words were, ‘Saw Penny and that country sanger canoodling at the river. Good on her. Good on her.’” She mimics Henry’s deep southern drawl, and I laugh at her spot-on impression.
“I swear, no ‘canoodling’ occurred.” I use air quotes around the word. “We just fished and had fun together. Our bodies never even made contact!”
“But I bet you wanted them to,” Josie sing-songs under her breath.
I roll my eyes, but I’m unable to mask the amusement in my voice. “We’ve been spending time together. We eat dinner, work on a puzzle, watch some TV, and then he takes me to bed.”
Instantly I realize my mistake when she gasps, covering her hand with her mouth.
“No, not like that, you perv. You know I wake up early and we stay up late watching Schitt’s Creek . I always end up falling asleep on the couch. I don’t even remember it, but every morning I’m in my bed.” I don’t tell her there’s always a note on my nightstand or that I’ve started keeping them in a shoebox on the floor of my closet.
Josie steps closer, nodding her head back and forth like she’s studying me.
“Oh my god, you’re falling for him,” she says after a beat. “I called it.”
Leave it to Josie to see right through all my bullshit. She’s always been able to figure me out, even when I’ve struggled to figure myself out.
Finally, I work up the courage to say something I’ve barely even had the courage to admit to myself. “I know it’s too soon, but I think I might be.”
“Listen, I know I tease you about him and all,” she starts, “but try not to overthink this. You two will figure it out. Let it be whatever you’re comfortable with it being. Trust yourself. Maybe let your heart call the shots for a while and give your brilliant brain a little break.”
My throat works on a swallow as I chew over her words. “When did you get so wise, Josie Thomas?”
She taps her head, grinning at me. “Not just a hat rack.”
The band starts up, and we head to where a small crowd has started dancing. Neither of us is very good at it, but that doesn’t matter. I’m just happy to be hanging out with my best friend.
The band plays one song after another, throwing in some that were recorded here. When “Old Time Rock and Roll” starts up, everyone cheers and crowds the street to dance. Austin comes up behind me, the faint scent of alcohol on his breath, and an unease settles over me, but I do what I do best. I shove it down. He grips my hip with one hand, and good grief. The man knows exactly how to move his tall, firm body. We bounce around to the beat of the song as he sings along, knowing every single word.
The band transitions from one song to another and Josie heads into the bar, leaving Austin and me to dance. He never takes his hands off my waist, gripping the fabric of my sundress so that my back is firmly against him. I can feel his heart thudding in his chest from all the dancing we've been doing.
He leans to my ear, his facial hair tickling my cheek. "Let's sit and rest."
I'm sweaty and thirsty, so I'm happy to follow him as he takes my hand and leads me inside the bar to where Josie and Liam are sitting. Josie is trying to be Liam's wing woman while he flirts with someone I don't recognize, who must be passing through town.
The woman is eyeing Austin like she’s trying to decide if he just looks like someone famous or if he is famous. My stomach twists in fear.
Austin heads to the bar to get me some water, and I lower onto the empty chair to cool off. Liam and Josie are both giving me what can only be considered I told you so smirks, and I'm starting to think I'll have to get used to that look on everyone's faces. Austin returns shortly, holding a glass of bourbon, and the pit in my stomach grows to a crater. It's too loud to try to hear each other speaking, so while Austin watches Liam do his very best to get the girl's number, I steal glances his way. His leg bounces and he reaches for his glass but then pulls his hand away, like an internal battle wages inside his mind.
Up until the other night, I thought the stress of being famous was what caused him to drink. Now I know better. I know as well as anybody what it looks like to keep things locked up tight, and from the looks of things, he’s locked down like Fort Knox.
About the time I start to cool off, I hear the opening chords to “Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls outside at the street party. Austin stands, extending his hand to me and jerks his head to the dance floor. I’ve danced with plenty of guys throughout my life, but I have no doubt that dancing with this man will be a different experience altogether.
I allow Austin to lead me back outside to the street party, his glass of bourbon forgotten. He slides one hand around my waist and takes my hand in his other, curling his around mine. He tugs me against his chest, leaving no space between us. While we begin to sway, I take in this moment, the song, the lyrics.
This song about being broken and wanting to be known is a whispered prayer between us. We’ve learned so much about each other in a handful of days. We've shared our beautiful parts as well as some tiny broken pieces, and I think, in some small way, it’s helped me to start the journey to healing from my own brokenness.
Throughout my life, certain songs have punctuated my memories so that later when I hear it, I’m instantly thrown back to that time. This will be one of those memories. I know that, for the rest of my life, when I hear “Iris,” I’ll forever think of the night I was suspended in space and time, swaying in Austin’s strong arms.
Closing my eyes, I let the moment be what it is. Right here and now, I'm choosing not to overthink how this looks or what’s on my to-do list. It's just the two of us dancing to a song that's putting words to things we haven’t dared say aloud.
Austin lowers resting his cheek against the top of my head, and I feel the telling burn behind my eyes. Right now I want more than I’ve ever allowed myself to have. But most of all, I want this man who’ll be leaving me. I will all my thoughts and emotions to transfer to him, unable to speak them. I don’t know how to word what I want because if I’m being honest with myself, I think I want more than he might be willing to give me, and I’d never ask it of him.
The song ends, and Austin presses his lips to my forehead. I have to swallow down the lump in my throat because that simple kiss feels like this moment meant the same to him as it meant to me. Like what our words couldn’t say, we felt through the song and through the closeness of our bodies.
We stay at the street party a while longer, mingling with Josie and Liam, but my mind is foggy, yet also dialed up to hyper-alert. I’m more aware of Austin’s presence than ever. Each time I glance up, his eyes are on me, and I have to quickly avert mine. I’m intentionally avoiding eye contact because, if I’m being honest, I don’t trust myself after that dance. I’m afraid if I allow our gazes to meet for even a fraction of a second, I’ll hand every part of myself over to him, and the thought is terrifying.
As we say our goodbyes and head to our cars, I hear the distant rumble of thunder. Summer in Alabama can be unpredictable, like Mother Nature herself is too hot and needs to douse herself in the rain to cool off. From the sound of the thunder in the distance, tonight might be that kind of summer storm.
We ride in complete silence, the lightning and thunder intensifying as the storm moves closer, like the electric current arcing between us is drawing the storm in. His phone buzzes with an incoming call, and I see Mom flashing on the screen before he can silence it.
When we get to my house, he cuts the engine, and we sit, not saying a word. Finally, I’m the one who speaks.
“I better get inside before this weather gets worse,” I whisper, because anything louder than a whisper would be too much, like it might crack this moment wide open for us to examine, whatever it is.
Our eyes meet. His are swimming with barely restrained emotion. He gives one quick nod, and I jump out, fat raindrops falling from the clouds and drenching me as I run inside.
Honey is weaving between my legs, probably wanting her bowl filled, but I can’t even think straight. What the hell am I doing? Am I prepared for this?
It’s times like this that I wish Dad was here so I could lay into him for all he’s left me dealing with. In another life, where my dad is here, I wouldn’t have to second guess my feelings. Sliding down my door to the wood floor beneath me, I rest my head against the frame. The rain outside comes down even harder now, matching the swirl of emotions that are impossible to reign in.
I don’t know how long I sit like this, maybe one minute or one decade, when I hear three quick raps on my door. Standing, I open it. We eye each other, his blue eyes burning hotter than any flame. My attraction to Austin is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt, and I was foolish to ever think I could ignore it.
He’s wearing a pleading look on his face, and his clothes are soaked through, his shirt clinging to his chest from the deluge beating down on him.
“Penny,” he rasps. “Tell me to leave. Tell me to go upstairs and leave you alone cause I can’t find it in me to do that tonight.” His fists clench and unclench at his sides, making the veins on his forearms pop. His eyes bounce between mine, searching.
“Austin,” I whisper, not even sure he can hear me over the pelting rain. “I can’t tell you to leave.” A stronger woman might have told him no, but after days of wanting, my strength is gone, and all I can do is let my desire take over.
Before my words have completely landed, he’s taken two strides forward into my kitchen. Austin wraps one strong arm around me, bunching the waist of my dress in his grip as he tugs me up against his broad chest. I'm vaguely aware that the other hand goes up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind my ear right before he tangles his fingers in my damp mane of waves. When I raise my head to look up at him, his lips crash down on mine. Finally , my body seems to say on an exhale.
He’s hesitant at first, but when his tongue sweeps across the seam of my lips, I open for him. It’s like a switch flips, and he deepens the kiss, causing a curl in my stomach and an ache to form between my legs. The kiss is rough and desperate, like a man starved for oxygen, like he’s been trudging through the desert and finally found an oasis. I gasp into his mouth as he walks us backward until my hips hit the edge of my kitchen counter.
Austin leans back to look at me, his eyes heated and more pupil than blue. Using the pad of his thumb, he traces my lower lip; then his mouth is back on mine. This time it's softer, like maybe we’re taking the time to explore something new between us. In the hazy recesses of my mind, I’m vaguely aware that this moment will be the demarcation line that separates the before and whatever comes next.