16. Willa
After pushing open the door and doing a quick scan, I tugged Nate inside the performance center, down the sloped walkway and past the rows of gray fold-up chairs to the stage.
Using my cell phone as a flashlight, I lit up the control panel, wishing I’d paid more attention during my faculty tour.
Nate reached over me and flicked a few switches, bathing the stage in light.
“I would’ve figured it out eventually,” I said.
Nate circled an arm around my waist, tugging my back to his chest, and kissed my temple. “Sure, but I’m too hungry to wait that long.”
I turned to smack him, but the instant my chest met his, the only smacking I wanted to do was with our mouths. I tipped onto my toes, wound my arms around his neck, and kissed him with nearly a week’s worth of buildup.
“Evidently, I’m not the only hungry one,” Nate murmured against my mouth. My tote bag hit the stage with a thunk, and he slid his hand from the small of my back to the curve of my ass. He splayed his fingers and gripped as much of me as he could in his big hand as he pressed me tighter to his body and rolled his tongue over mine.
The world around us spun and I held on tight, giving in to the Merry-Go-Round sensation for a handful of seconds. If I didn’t pull away, I’d be tempted to strip him of his clothes right here and now, and I’d rather not lose my job over indecent exposure. A naked Nathan might be worth it, if it wouldn’t mean I’d have to leave Boston and miss out on future no-strings sexiness.
I released hold of his neck, breaking the kiss and striding toward the stage. Our footsteps echoed across the emptiness, a tribute to the engineering. I stomped. “Do you hear that? The acoustics are seriously amazing.” Once we reached center stage, I added, “I auditioned right here, with the spotlight on me so blazingly bright I thought I’d end up with a sunburn.”
If I closed my eyes, I could see the sea of faces and feel the residual wave of nausea. “As a single mother of two, my mom had worked as hard as I had to get me to that audition. In middle school, she took on a second job so I could take voice lessons and go to summer camps at places like the University of Vermont and the Burlington Youth Orchestra—that’s how much she believed in me. My sophomore year, I earned a spot in the five-week summer program at Berklee College of Music, and I fell head over heels for the college, as well as Boston.”
“Ah, so you’re from Vermont.”
“Originally, yes.” Expanding meant explaining why I’d ended up in Maine, and that hit too close to shit I didn’t want to think about right now. Suffice it to say, the bond with my ex that started with bonding over experiencing harsher winters than even Bostonians could imagine had lost its novelty. “Long story short, the stakes were high. I was the last one to perform that day, and since several of the students stuck around after their turn, the place was packed. I’d never wanted anything so badly in my life…”
“And, no surprise, you blew them away with your amazing voice.”
I cast Nate a smile. “One minute, I was sure I was going to lose my lunch and blow it; the next, the words of the song I’d composed—and practiced to the point that my younger brother offered to pay me to shut up—burst from me. Like my muscle memory had decided we weren’t going back to Vermont, no matter what.
“Then I somehow ended up in small-town Maine, which felt like a step down. Not that it wasn’t a beautiful place with lovely people. But from the time I was a little girl, anytime we were headed out of the city, I’d stare at all the twinkling lights we were putting in the rearview, and whisper, ‘One day, I’m going to live in a city.’ Then Eric and I met and got married, and he had”—I made air quotes—“‘the more logical dream.’” I pulled a face. I’d rambled my way right to where I’d sworn not to go. “Sorry. I don’t mean to mention him. It’s just…”
“He was a big part of your life.”
“Unfortunately,” I blurted before wincing at the harsh bitterness that came through the word. “I don’t mean that. Well, I sorta do. It’s complicated.” Damn it. A perfectly good Friday night, standing on center stage with a ridiculously handsome man who did amazing things with his hands, and I was ruining it. “I’m just so mad at myself for putting what I wanted aside for his dreams.”
Nate laced his fingers through mine and squeezed my hand, sending warmth and comfort through me. For all the intimate things we’d done, holding hands, our fingers knitted together and his eyes so steady on mine, seemed more intense somehow. As though he’d reached out and touched the most innermost part of my soul. “That’s just hindsight talking. Looking back and seeing the right path is easy, like those mazes they had us do in elementary school. I’d always start at the end and finish before the other kids and feel all self-important.”
I let loose an exaggerated gasp. “You never told me you were a bad boy.”
A tiny groove punctuated his half-grin, and those butterflies from earlier drifted up again, intoxicated by Nate’s charm and drunkenly crashing into one another. “Well, I’m certainly not a good one.”
His words were a delicious combination of a dare and a threat, and the best part was, I’d win regardless of which side I teetered toward.
He brought up our joined hands and rested my knuckles against his mouth, his lips intermittently brushing them as he spoke. “What I’ve learned during my trickier cases is that I have to present the best case and argument I can with the information and knowledge I have. I charge until I hit a wall, and that’s how I know I need to backtrack and find a new path. That’s all any of us can do. That, and to learn from the past and act now, which is exactly what you’re doing.”
Something deep within me unraveled, a knot of shame and remorse, that allowed me to breathe more fully. I hadn’t even realized how tightly I’d been holding on to that, letting it hinder my progress.
“Although, I still want to kick your ex-husband’s ass for not taking better care of your dreams.” Nate lowered his arm, and mine went along for the ride as he sandwiched my hand in both of his. “Part of caring about someone is helping them achieve their goals and aspirations, not stifling them.”
My mom and Leah had told me similar. Hell, I’d even attempted to convince myself. But tonight, I actually heard it. More, I believed it. Maybe it was the guy, or maybe it was the setting and having come full circle. Probably all of the above.
“So now we do a compare and contrast. What was your dream for your future when you stood on this stage that first time? Has it changed? If so, how, and from there, we draw up a plan to make it happen.”
“Originally, I just wanted to make music. Didn’t much care how. I toyed with the idea of becoming a recording artist for a while. People constantly told me my weight would be my biggest hurdle, and that was when I was younger and…” I placed my free hand over my stomach, fighting my insecurities. Already my stamina was improving from biking, and my clothes felt good instead of too snug, but I’d never be stick thin. “Yeah.”
“That’s a crock of shit, and I’ve always hated that about the entertainment industry. Why do they get to define beauty in such narrow—and downright wrong—standards? Hear me when I say this…” The steely veracity in his expression dismissed my urge to hide. “You’re fucking gorgeous, exactly as you are. Anyone who doesn’t see that is an idiot. On top of being beautiful, inside and out, I’ve heard plenty of live performances in my day, and I’ve never been so blown away by a set of pipes.”
“I appreciate that, I do,” I said, and Nate arched an eyebrow, warning me not to contradict him. It melted away the last of my insecurities and spread sunshine through my soul.
“Sooner or later, you’re going to realize that it’s easier to just agree and go along than argue, since I’ll win in the end anyway.”
“No thank you. I choose the hard way.” I wound his tie around my fist and gave it a light tug. “Now, if you’ll let me finish, what I was going to say was that the process of recording, touring, and everything else that goes into that path overwhelms me. While I wish I could say my insecurities wouldn’t get to me, I dealt with constant scrutiny during my marriage, and it was unhealthy enough that I refuse to put myself in that situation ever again. I want more than life in a small town, but when it comes down to it, I’m not searching for fame. Not that type, anyway.
“But studying music, ripping it apart and putting it back together in a new fresh way, and creating melodies from scratch is something I’ve always loved. I get to do that in my music theory classes, and I’ve been writing songs here and there.”
“Let’s hear one,” Nate said, and I shook my head, earning that arched eyebrow again.
“When it’s ready, you’ll be the first person I show. I promise.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that. Just like I’m going to later punish you for that ‘if you’ll let me finish’ remark.” Before I could respond to the latter, he glanced out at our empty audience. “You can’t keep this crowd waiting that long, though. People came here tonight to be entertained, and we shouldn’t let this stage go to waste.”
I laughed, loving the way he embraced the impromptu journey I’d taken us on, an odd amalgamation of past and present.
Nate walked toward the darker part of the stage, where a few odd instruments were strewn about. No piano, and I didn’t see a keyboard either. He picked up a guitar, secured the strap around himself, and strummed his fingers across the strings. “So? What song are we performing for them tonight?”
“You play the guitar too?”
Nate placed his hand over the neck of the instrument, stopping the chord in its tracks. “Not well. That’s why you’d better sing extra loud. I’d hate for our audience to boo you because of your guitar player.”
“I have a feeling you’re just being humble.”
A gleam lit his eyes as he walked to the other side of me, swiping a hand across my lower back and perking up every cell in my body. “Babe, I don’t do humble. Surprised you haven’t noticed.”
A laugh spilled out of me, ricocheting through the chairs that made up our audience. Other singers used to talk about the energy they received from the crowd, whereas I’d always taken mine from the music, the onlookers often adding more anxiety than energy. “Earlier today, I was reminiscing on my days singing at the local bar, and there was one song that always ‘raised the roof,’ as they say. Country isn’t my specialty, but having friends in low places, on the other hand…” I slung an arm over my bandmate’s shoulder. “I’ve got a few of those.”
“Wait. What bar?”
“You probably wouldn’t know it. I didn’t hang at the hoity toity fancy places that you’d frequent.”
Nate pinched my side, and I dodged, seconds too late.
“Laney’s Last Call, near Fenway Park. I owe my last few years of tuition to the tips I made from”—I slipped into my best Boston accent—“Sawx fans after the games.”
His eyes narrowed. “Seriously? A buddy of mine and I went there after a game, after some other fans told us about the amazing singer who performed there, and she sang that very song. Since he knew I liked music, he dragged me along, and I remember thinking an angel must’ve taken the stage. Only, by that point, I was too drunk, and the place was too crowded to make out more than she had a long blond ponytail and an incredible voice.”
“Oh, then it was for sure me. See?” I bumped my shoulder to his. “You’re not the only one with an ego.”
I thought he’d laugh at what I’d meant to be a joke, but he studied me like a person he’d met before but couldn’t quite place. “It would’ve been six—no, seven—years ago.”
A strange sense of serendipity tingled through me, and all I could do was nod to indicate the timing lined up.
“It had to have been you. I can’t believe I didn’t stumble my way to the stage and meet you. Of course, I would’ve given you some awful line you’d be smart enough to see through, and that would’ve been that.”
“And you said you didn’t do humility.”
“I do the truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God. I was a cocky prick back then, and I went through women like…” He trailed off, seemingly realizing he’d said too much after he’d said it. “What I mean to say is that I would’ve definitely blown my shot by being an immature jackass, and then you and I’d never be here, like this, right now. I don’t like the idea of that, so let’s get this show started and pretend I never said anything.”
I nodded, telling myself to ignore the phrase “went through women like.” With his good looks and superb skills in the sack, it wasn’t like I assumed Nate had been a monk all his life. Still, the idea of him with other women, especially modelesque ones burned more than I expected or liked.
The only thing that countered it was reminding myself that mere minutes ago, he’d called me gorgeous. Still, it took the first few notes of the guitar to successfully shush my spinning thoughts, and then music reminded me why it’d always be my first love.
God, it felt so good to sing one of my old comfort songs at the top of my lungs. I sang about roots, boots, and whiskey, and being okay. And as the song came to an end, the last note hanging in the air, I turned to my guitarist to see if he’d felt the high too.
Only to find him staring back at me with an expression so predatory that a shiver of awareness traveled down my core. “What?” I squeaked, and Nate slowly set aside the guitar and stalked toward me.
“You were right,” he said, and I instinctually took a step backward. “The acoustics are amazing.”
Why did I want to turn and flee?
Stupid question. It was so that he’d catch me.
There were two versions of Nate: the gentleman who offered car rides, showed up with flowers, and carried my bag for me; and the boorish dude who bossed me around and fucked me into oblivion.
With each step backward I took, more of the gruff, domineering version of Nate rose to the surface. Two stern creases formed between his eyebrows, his Adam’s apple protruded more than usual, and the line of his jaw turned rigid.
Ever-so-casual, he removed his coat and draped it across a nearby music stand. Then he resumed the advance of his sure, steady strides.
The veins in his hands stood out as he uncuffed his sleeves, naked desire showing in his features as he released the leash on his feral side. He rolled up the thin, pale blue fabric, revealing that tantalizing line of his forearm, and a gasp escaped as my back hit the wall, leaving me nowhere to run.
Nate’s grin turned wolfish, and he pinned me in place with nothing more than the intensity in his gaze. He went the extra mile keeping me there, though, placing his palm a foot or so over my shoulder and draping his body over mine.
“That’s why,” he said, his voice so deadly low and husky my whimper couldn’t be helped. He skimmed his fingers over my knee, up my thigh, higher and higher as he bunched my skirt in his fist. “I’m not going to be satisfied until I experience the way your voice carries when you come and cry out my name.”