Chapter 20
20
Nate’s fingers ease over the strings and lightly pluck as he tunes his guitar.
God. That guitar. It’s the same one.
It’s the guitar I painted, a long time ago. I might have been nine or ten. Pink with white flowers.
I don’t know why I did that. Some creative urge and it was there. My brothers were mad about it, that I would desecrate a guitar like that—with pink, no less.
It was a good guitar, Vaughn had lectured me. It’s got a pure tone. And now we can’t use it.
But Nate would still play it. He said the tone got even better after that.
He kept it. Because it reminded him of me.
Nate strums again. And he looks out over the crowd. Finding me .
His stage presence is insane. Before he even plays a single note, the entire crowd goes silent, just watching him. He’s got that brooding, sexy depth to him that, on stage, is somehow amplified. Your gaze just wants to drink him in. You’re waiting with breathless anticipation for him to do something.
He plays a few chords, his fingers deft and skillful. I go instantly wet —oh my god. Because I know how good it feels to be played by those strong, rough, skilled hands.
And then he starts to sing.
Holy This Can’t Be Happening Right Now, Batman.
He was already perfect.
His voice is as smooth as whiskey, somehow matching his soulful golden eyes with their rims of dark lashes. He’s got a deep, smoky, musical, rasped tone that’s perfectly in tune.
Wow.
Nate Boone can fucking sing .
He’s got a crazy star power I don’t know if I’ve ever seen before in an undiscovered artist.
My brothers are showy on stage. The wildness of them—and all three of them combined—appeals to their fans on every level, with their good looks, their heartfelt lyrics and their country soul.
Nate’s got something deep and slow-burning. Just serious pure, raw talent that gains momentum as you watch him and takes on layers that awe.
Why why why has he been hiding this?
When we were kids, all the boys were gifted musicians, with the exception of Tobias who would rather be screeching Britney tracks along with Dakota and me than learning the guitar.
But it was always my brothers who burned for it, who had the gall and the energy to make a career out of it or die trying.
Nate was already burdened with mountains of responsibility. I guess back then it was easy to mistake that for someone who didn’t want it badly enough.
This is a talent he's kept under wraps, beneath his ever-reliable persona, the one his family needed from him—and still does. It breaks my heart that he’s never had the chance to indulge his talent when he should have been showing it off all along.
With each note he sings, I can see more of the real, unfiltered Nate Boone break through. Because this is who he is. It couldn’t be more obvious that this is what he was born to do.
It’s the same Nate I saw when we were alone together, tangled in sheets, hot and sweaty. The thread of vulnerability. The heartfelt sincerity. The fiery passion. All entwined.
Nate Boone is a musician in the true sense of the word.
And I can do something about making sure he realizes how freaking good he is.
When he sings the final note of the song, the crowd erupts into a standing ovation so loud Daisy and her friends, who are sitting around hay bales near the front, clap their hands over their ears .
Nate performs three more songs. Each one of them digs itself more deeply into my soul.
I didn’t think it was possible to fall even more in love with him. But he just figured out a way to get me to do exactly that. I’m slayed. I’m scared but at the same time I feel braver than I ever have.
I might be pregnant with his baby.
And right now, there’s nothing on this entire Earth that I’ve wanted more than for that to be true.