Chapter 31
CHAPTER 31
EMERSON
Making our way back through the bar and out to the open mic night, I can feel my cheeks flame as heads turn to watch us.
Thankfully, Lawson is just finishing his rendition of “Mr. Brightside” as we pass, and the majority of patrons are crowded around the stage or tearing up the dance floor. When we slip back into our seats, Sully shoots Ford a pointed look and receives a shoulder punch in reply, making him laugh out loud.
No one else mentions the glaringly obvious sex-flushed cheeks or our wet, disheveled hair until Law reappears and shoots me a wink. “Looking good, Em?—”
Ford cuts him off with a slap across the back of the head. “Quit it, asshat.”
Law looks entirely affronted, scrunching up his face in distaste. “I resent that. I am not an asshat. An ass , maybe, at times, but?—”
He grinds to a halt when the host begins speaking once more. “And following our very own Wilde man, we have Felicity Holloway.”
She glances dubiously in our direction, and I barely dare to draw a breath as all eyes turn to Lissie, but the hesitance from earlier has evaporated. That energy from before we left the ranch is rippling off her in waves when she stands tall, tossing her long hair over one shoulder.
As she pivots on her heel, the audience applauds, and her walk to the stage is almost in slow motion. She mounts the steps at the side, accepting the offered acoustic guitar with a gentle smile.
She converses with the band members for a beat before they all exit the stage, and I shoot Ford a concerned look, finding his own brow furrowed as we watch with bated breath.
Lissie settles herself on the stool, propping the guitar on her lap with the confidence of use before she leans close to the mic. “Good evening, y’all.” Her voice is low, barely audible, and a tremor of nerves flow through me, wanting so badly for this to go well for her.
“Following Mr. Wilde’s exuberant performance, I just wanted to slow it down for a hot minute with my version of my brother’s favorite song of all time.”
When they find Ford’s, her eyes twinkle, and she winks before her mouth draws up like a bow. “This one’s for you, Fordy. Hope you like it.”
As she strums the opening chords of “Iris,” my mouth drops open as Ford grasps my hand in his. Our eyes meet for a beat, understanding passing silently between us as he brushes the pad of his thumb over and back across my knuckles.
We look back to Lissie just before she begins to sing, and when she does, a hush falls over the crowd, and even the handful of couples slow-dancing on the dance floor stop in their tracks to watch.
Her eyes are closed as the familiarly heartfelt words tumble from her mouth with an ease that belies her age or her experience. It’s as though the music has transformed the uneasy, awkward girl of moments before into a goddess of the stage.
As I sit in awe, I can’t help but think that the quality of her voice and the ease with which she hits each perfect note are testaments to her God-given talent.
I allow my gaze to drift across the rapt gathering, finally landing on the men at our table, noting Sully’s cell in his hand, recording the scene with a smile. Sutton is wholly entranced, scarcely daring to draw a breath, and Jesse’s face is similar, though his eyes are closed, forehead creased as he absorbs the clear, utterly magical vocals.
Lawson is paused, beer held in mid-air and his jaw is very nearly on the floor, clearly as shocked as I am at this turn of events.
But Ford’s face is the very picture of pride as he watches with smiling eyes, shifting them about to me as though sensing my attention. He rises to stand, extending a hand, palm facing up, as he murmurs, “Dance with me, Tink.”
I accept with a smile, allowing him to tug me to the stillness of the dance floor, where he gathers me close enough to press our brows together. We sway gently, Lissie’s dulcet tones surrounding us, and Ford joins in at the end, whispering for my ears only, “I just want you to know who I am.”
As Lissie finishes, the whole bar erupts, and we twist about to look at her just as her eyes open. She blinks owlishly several times until, with a shake of her head, her cheeks pinken as she realizes where she is. It’s almost as though the music had taken her to some far-off place, and she’s only just coming back to the here and now.
The entire group of ranch hands from Whispering Willows ascends the stage, Sully leading the charge to lift Lissie above their heads. They cheer her loudly, chanting her name over and over as the host returns to the stage.
“I’m goin’ out on a limb here, but I reckon we just witnessed somethin’ real special tonight, folks.”
Sutton appears at our side, shaking his head with a wry grin.
“And there I was, thinking I was doing you a favor coming here tonight. Second signing for North Star Records is in the bag.”
He snorts a laugh before sauntering past us in the direction of the indoor bar. My jaw unhinges before my mouth lifts in a broad smile. Ford’s delighted eyes find mine, and we let out a simultaneous whoop of joy. When he scoops me up into his arms, happiness fills me from head to toe as he spins me around before setting me back on the ground to smile into my eyes.
“You knew if you got them here, he’d sign her, didn’t you?” His smile broadens, and I throw my head back in a fit of laughter. “That’s why you pushed so hard to get him here. That’s why you looked so smug when she started singing!”
“That’s part of it, yeah…” His smile dims ever so slightly as he shrugs a shoulder. “I dunno. I’ve missed so much of them growin’ up. I just wanted to…give her somethin’—”
“Now…to round out our truly spectacular evenin’, we have a special treat in store.”
Everyone present falls silent at the host’s words, and she raises a smug eyebrow as a smile lifts her lips. “Jesse North, y’all.”
FORD
As Jesse reaches the stage, he shucks his boots and socks, depositing them at the side, and I can’t help snorting. I had witnessed his father do the same thing before every gig I attended during my year heading up his security team.
He slips a guitar over his head, padding barefoot to the mic as he strums the opening chords of an original piece that is entirely too reminiscent of his father’s talent.
When his rasping voice fills the air, the entire bar falls under his spell. I hold Emmy closer, palming her cheeks to brush my lips over hers, and she hugs me around my waist, happiness emanating off her lithe body in waves.
I rest my cheek atop Emmy’s head as we sway to the music; it picks up the tempo, and Jesse hits some seriously epic high notes. The crowd dances along with it, some singing back his words as they become more familiar with the tune. The atmosphere has been electric all evening, and right now, it’s palpable.
A hand on my shoulder makes me lift my head from Emmy’s, and I twist about, realizing belatedly that something doesn’t feel quite right. Shock, followed by fury, steamrolls through me when I’m met with a fist to my jaw that sends me careening backward, and I instantly loosen my hold on Emmy so as not to take her down with me.
I land on my ass with a thud, a throbbing pain shooting through my lower jaw, while wondering what the fuck just happened.
“ East !”
Emmy’s scream sees more than a handful of heads turning, and I blink several times to dispel the haze in my vision to find my old friend looming over me with a curled lip. He spits violently at my feet, moving to grab Emmy’s arm to pull her away, but as I push myself upright, she tears her limb from his grip.
“What are you doing, Easton?”
She moves back toward me, but he stops her, both hands descending on her slender shoulders, and the sight of it—of him manhandling my girl—ignites a fire in my belly.
Drawing myself up to my full height, I square my shoulders, holding myself together by a thread.
“I’ll ask you kindly to take your hands off my Tink.”
My words are a low growl, only audible because Jesse has stopped playing and lowered his guitar to the floor of the stage.
Tension builds all around us as ranch hands from Broken Hart join the stand-off at Easton’s back, and I feel more than see Sully and our crew form a line behind me.
Emmy struggles against her brother’s hold, an incensed frown marring her beautiful features. “Let me go , Easton. Stop this right now.”
But he completely ignores her, his once friendly eyes glaring into mine with a hatred I don’t feel I’ve earned, and I stare him down, refusing to give an inch to this man.
“I told you more than once that you needed to disappear , Holloway. My sister doesn’t need the likes of you and your piece of shit family?—”
Sully steps forward, his shoulder aligning with mine as he hisses viciously, “I fuckin’ dare you to continue that sentence, Hart. I’m just itchin’ for any excuse to mark up that pretty boy face.”
Easton simply glares at my family's ranch manager, looking Sully up and down, arching a distasteful eyebrow as though he finds him lacking before his gaze shifts back to mine.
But before he can say another word, Emmy places a hand atop her brother’s, where he’s gripping her shoulder. “You told him to disappear?”
Her voice breaks, and she inhales a shuddery breath, shaking her head as tears fill her eyes. “You knew .”
She wretches out of his hold, brushing away her tears in frustration before she meets his gaze with accusation. “You told me he didn’t care. That he used me and left me when it suited him. You let me think he never loved me.”
Easton opens his mouth to defend his actions, but Emmy cuts him off with a snarl that’s so inherently unlike her that he physically steps back.
“ You were the reason he left without a word, and even afterward, when you came to see me as I lay broken and sobbing in that bed, you kept us apart. Even when you knew about the baby.”
Fury surges through my veins, and I take a step forward, fists clenched at my sides, but Sully’s hand on my shoulder holds me firm.
Easton raises a pleading hand to his sister, and she smacks it away, her eyes filled with determination as she grits through clenched teeth, “I hate you, Easton. I’ll never forgive this. Never .”
She gives him her back, marching toward me and the guys from Whispering Willows, but stops when Easton speaks. His voice is low but filled with malice as his eyes hold mine over Emmy’s head.
“His father’s the reason our mother’s not here, Em.” The entire place is so quiet you could hear a pin drop when he raises his voice, anguish dripping from every word. “He’s the reason she’s dead . Did you know that?”