Chapter 28 There’s No Music
There's No Music
Hayvin
Each morning brings a new token from Alek.
Sometimes it’s a gift on my porch. Other times, a handwritten letter or a text confessing another reason he’s fallen for me, always paired with a song to soundtrack my day.
I often step outside to a world subtly changed.
Grass trimmed, flower beds blooming, the fence mended and shining.
Quietly, he restores the pieces of my life I’ve let slip away.
There’s been only brief conversations between us outside of the daily texts or the times I carry a cold beer out to him when he’s working.
That suits me, since his words have carried little weight for me lately.
Alek is taking care of me in the only way he knows I’ll feel it right now. When he speaks to me through text, it’s in a way he’s sure I’ll understand.
Through music.
Lyrics have the power to heal you if you allow their melody to soothe your broken soul.
I let the music mend me, word by word, note by note, slowly stitching my heart back together.
He’s careful to choose songs that will help explain his feelings to me more clearly than any words he’d given me ever could. Eventually, I’ll want to hear them from his mouth, but for now, I’m content with these.
Today, his song choice pulls me into a time machine, my lips curving as Alek whisks me back to the late nineties with Savage Garden’s I Knew I Loved You.
As much as I adore the melody, a bittersweet ache lingers. The lyrics claim he loved me from the very first moment, and that stirs up sadness I can’t quite shake.
Then why? Why did he always act like he didn’t?
Will his words and actions be enough to convince me he truly does?
Earlier, I sat in my writing den, waiting for lyrics to pour out as they always do. Instead, my mind was a silent void, the melodies gone. I wandered outside, hoping the breeze might coax the music back.
It’s a special kind of fear when the one thing you’ve always relied on simply vanishes.
I can’t remember the last time my creativity was this blocked. Not even when Alek broke my heart and I left. Then, the pain became an award-winning song, but now all I feel is numb uncertainty from the silence.
Whenever I reach for my guitar, the chords fall flat and lifeless. There’s no rhythm, no melody. Where my words used to be, I now find only silence.
I nudge the porch swing into motion with my toes, my gaze lingering on the sweaty, shirtless man mowing my lawn, brooding thoughts swirling as I watch him.
Does he really have to flaunt every inch of inked skin? He’s teasing me, and he knows exactly how much those tattoos unravel my resolve.
My tongue darts over my lips as my eyes trace every line and curve of him.
Suddenly aware of my reaction, I scowl and spring to my feet, irritation prickling beneath my skin as frustration battles with my attraction to him.
He must see me marching down the steps because he lets go of the handle, letting the motor die. He pulls his folded shirt from his back pocket, his glistening muscles bunching and rolling, as if they’re taunting me to take a bite.
But I’m not doing it.
I’m not.
Even if my body is being a traitorous little slut for it.
“Vin, is everything okay?” he asks, wiping the sweat from his face with the shirt.
I don’t stop moving until my bare toes are resting against the toes of his shoes.
“You,” I growl, shoving my finger into his chest. “Give them back.”
He wraps his fingers around my wrist, holding me to him. “Give what back?”
“My lyrics. My melody. My damn music.” My voice cracks on the last word, the plea raw in my throat. “Give it back.”
“Vin,” he says gruffly, cupping his hand along the back of my neck.
I pause, feeling the weight in my chest, then surrender to a fleeting moment and rest my head against his chest. As Alek’s thumb draws gentle circles on my neck, I let my eyes fall shut, relief and confusion mingling inside me.
When he presses a kiss to my hair, I step back, exhaling and trying to process the softness I still feel for him.
“You can’t write?” he asks tentatively.
“No. There’s a block and I can’t seem to work through it,” I admit, a little unsure.
This isn’t something we’ve talked much about, so I’m a bit wary about doing it now.
“What can I do to help?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. It’ll come when it’s ready.”
Pausing, I search his face. Quiet patience and warmth shine back at me.
Letting out a shaky breath, I allow myself to be vulnerable. “It’s terrifying, you know? Music is woven into who I am. When it disappears, it feels like a part of me vanishes until the harmony returns.” I press my hand to my heart, hoping he understands.
He lifts his hand towards my face, but drops it before it makes contact. “I’m sorry, baby girl. Fucking hate that such a large part of you is missing right now. Hate even more that I can’t do anything about it.”
My heart does that infuriating thing where it softens, no matter how hard I try to resist.
“Let me get you a beer,” I say abruptly, pulling away to turn and hurry inside.
What are you doing, Hayvin?
I bring the beer out, planning to hand it off and retreat, but his voice, low and pleading, tugs me back before I can escape.
“Will you meet me somewhere tonight?” he asks.
Will I?
“I don’t know.”
Alek nods, accepting my answer. “If you do, I’ll be at Songbird’s tonight at seven.”
Songbird’s? Why in the world would he be at a music bar?
Before I can ask, he fires the mower back up, putting an end to our conversation.
Not that I had anything else to say.
Do I want to go?
Do I not want to go?
Will I regret it if I don’t?
Yes. Yes to all the questions.
All day, I teeter between going and staying home, but in the end, curiosity tips the scales.
By six-thirty, I’m dressed and restless, and by seven, I’m stepping into the dim glow of Songbird’s. My eyes adjust, and familiar faces slowly come into focus.
Charlie and Keaton.
Everleigh.
Charlie’s best friend, Amelia.
The others around them, I don’t really know, but Alek must from the way he chats with them.
What the hell is going on?
Alek’s head snaps up, and his eyes lock on mine as I weave through the crowd.
“Hey,” he says, his tone full of relief as he climbs to his feet. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“I wasn’t sure I would either.” I peer around his tables. “What’s going on?”
“You’ll see,” Alek says, turning me so I face the people sitting at the tables.
“Hayvin, I’d like you to meet a few people.
” Then he goes around the table with introductions.
“Zeb, Perry, this is Hayvin. The love of my life. They’re old co-workers.
Then you have some of the new friends I’ve made recently.
Roman and his girlfriend, Brenna. Chip and his wife, Taylor. Aaron and his partner, Rigley.”
Just as he’s about to introduce the last couple, the beautiful brunette smiles widely at me, her honey-colored eyes twinkling. She wiggles in her seat. “Hi,” she chirps. “I’m Fiona, but you can call me Fi. I’m a huge fan!”
My cheeks heat, still unused to that shit, and I smile back. “Nice to meet you.”
“This big lug is my husband, Colton.”
He just nods with a friendly smile, so I do the same.
“Music lovers, trouble makers, and all of you here drinking your feelings. We have fresh meat here tonight,” the emcee crows.
Alek’s face pales, and Charlie laughs.
“What am I missing?” I ask them.
Before Charlie can answer, Alek grabs my chin between his fingers and gently turns my face towards him. “I can’t give you your words back, Hayvin, but I can give you mine.”
“What are you doing, Alek?”
He places his hand over my racing heart. “I’m going to give you my words, my melody, my music.”
I suck in a quiet breath.
Alek turns away and makes his way to the stage.
“We need to be gentle, folks. It’s his first time,” the emcee quips, causing the bar crowd to laugh.
Alek takes the mic from the emcee. He blows out a breath and brings it to his mouth.
“I don’t really know what I’m doing. This is all new to me—opening up and letting everyone see inside.
Maybe a story will help. It’ll explain why I’m here, why I’m about to play an instrument I don’t know and sing something I wrote that may not make sense to anyone else. ”
Don’t soften. Don’t soften.
His eyes find mine in the crowd. “Then again, not much made sense in my life until my little songbird came into it.”
“I’m going to need a drink now,” I mutter, dropping into the vacant seat next to Everleigh.
“Got you, babe,” she says, sliding a Jack and Coke my way.
I empty the glass just as Alek opens his heart to a bar full of mostly strangers.
How do you get a songbird to listen to you?
You speak their language.
It seems Alek is finally seeing me.