Chapter 29
Willow stood in the wings, guitar slung over her shoulder, and waited as the rest of the band finished their tuning and sound check. She closed her eyes and centered herself in the moment, reminding herself that while it wasn’t the promised duet, her label liked the rough version of the new song she’d sent them and promised she’d get to a studio to record it in the next couple of weeks after the festival. Her career hadn’t ended, and despite the mixed press she’d received after the leak, her agent told her that morning that her set at the festival was completely sold out.
She should be happy, right? She was happy, wasn’t she?
Oz, her drummer, started in on the beat to “This Time,” a crowd favorite, and the fans began to cheer. She waited a few measures, sucked in a deep breath, and then headed out onstage.
For the entirety of the song, Willow never sang alone. Every word, every chorus, and even the bridge…the fans were with her each step of the way. And right there in the front row was everyone she loved.
Colt and Jenna, Boone and Casey, Eli and Beth. Even the Hammonds, her parents, drove up to catch the set.
Everyone she loved. Except one.
This time I’ll pick myself up when I fall;
This time I’ll block your number before you call.
This time I’ll hold the needle and thread;
Jagged stitches ’cross my heart…cold sheets on your side of the bed.
Her throat felt raw as she sang the final refrain.
Jagged stitches ’cross my heart…
Jagged stitches ’cross my heart…
Jagged stitches ’cross my heart…cold sheets on your side of the bed.
She strummed the last chord with a little too much vigor and snapped a string.
“Whoops!” she cried into the mic once the applause died down. Then she laughed, lifted the strap over her shoulder, and handed the guitar to a crew member who ran onstage. “While my girl Mel restrings this for me, or finds me another guitar, I’m going to just…” Willow strolled over to the stool where three bottles of water waited for her and opened one up. She downed half of it in one breath before carrying it back to the mic. “I’m not sure if y’all heard…but I got myself tangled in a tiny little scandal a couple weeks ago. Again. ” She wasn’t sure what the hell she was doing or why she’d just said what she said, but she needed to fill the dead air, and something propelled the words out of her mouth.
“We love you, Willow!” someone in the crowd called out.
“I love you too!” she replied with a laugh. Then she felt an odd pang in her gut. “You know what?” She grabbed the water stool and dragged it over to the mic stand, set the unopened bottles on the stage floor, and then parked herself on the stool. “It’s so easy to say ‘I love you’ to y’all when we’ve never officially met, so how come it’s so damned scary to say it to the one person I’ve loved for years? Who knows what I’m talking about?”
There were cheers and a few murmurs from the crowd, but for the most part, they’d gone silent as they stared up at her, waiting for what came next.
“Here’s the thing,” she continued, because why not go for broke now that she’d made it this far. “I loved someone once, a few years ago, but I never told him. I get a second chance…and I chicken out. Anybody else here a chicken like me?” Chicken.
Lucy might be able to spot the real deal, but she can’t do your part of the job…
Clucking and hooting and hollering from the crowd. She was baring her heart more than they knew, and they were still entertained. God, she loved her fans. Willow let out an incredulous laugh and then glanced down at her brother and Jenna. “A wise woman and her hen once told me that I have to believe I deserve the fairy tale just as much as the rest of you do.”
“Woo-hoo!” Jenna cried. “That’s my girl!”
Willow blew her a kiss and then stared back out into the crowd.
“Hey, Wills…” A voice sounded through the speakers.
“Y’all heard that, right?” she asked.
Again, Jenna shouted, “That’s my girl!”
“It’s just you and me, Wills,” the voice said again, and Willow realized it was coming from her ear monitor, not the speakers.
“I know you blocked me, and I don’t blame you. But I need to explain, so I’m hoping you’ll read this. ‘The Annabeth thing isn’t what you think. I fucked up, but I never lied about loving you. Please call me. Let me make this right.—Ash’”
Willow’s gaze darted from side to side, but there was no one else onstage other than her and her band. She held up a finger as fans started giving her quizzical looks.
“Um… Just a second,” she said into the mic. “My…uh…stage manager is giving me an update on my guitar.”
“‘I’m gonna email every day until you respond,’” Ash’s voice continued. “‘You can hatr me, buy at leash you’ll know the trth.’” He paused. “Sorry… I was drunk when I wrote this one, but I wanted you to get the full effect.”
She let loose something between a laugh and sob while he kept going.
“‘It’s been a week, Wills. I’m a mess, which is a shitty thing to say because I’m sure it pales in comparison to what you’re going through. Just one phone call. That’s it. Please. I love you.—Ash’”
The audience started to cheer, and for a moment Willow wondered if they were actually applauding her having what looked like a very emotional reaction to news about her guitar. But then there he was.
Willow stood as she held her breath…and hoped.
She saw her guitar first, newly strung and slung across his chest. Then the setting sun shone on her favorite straw hat as Ash Murphy strode across the stage amid the crowd’s thunderous roar.
He lifted her guitar over his shoulders and set it on the stand next to the mic. His own guitar hung across his back.
“How? What?” she asked, voice shaking. And even though she was facing him, the sound carried out from the speakers.
“It’s a long story,” he replied. “The short version is I’m here, and I fired my manager and record label.” Murmurs and gasps arose from the audience. “That costs a pretty penny, let me tell you. Don’t try this at home.” That earned him some laughs. “The long story…” he continued. “Let’s just say your inbox is full of four years’ worth of a brokenhearted man begging for forgiveness. But for now we should probably just sing these folks a song.”
He skimmed his fingers across her forehead and tucked her hair behind her ear before resting his palm against her cheek. Willow felt her heart rise into her throat. “I just want to tell you one thing, Willow Morgan, in front of all these witnesses. I have always loved you, even when you didn’t love me back.”
Willow strummed her guitar, cleared her throat, and said into the mic, “Didn’t love you back?” She glanced out at the sea of people who, despite everything that had happened, were there for her. “What do you think, folks? Is it possible to have stopped loving this man?”
The crowd began to roar.
Her throat tightened as she spoke softly, as if only he could hear. “I always have, Ash, every day.”
Ash dipped his head toward hers, then turned directly toward the mic, pulling it free from the stand, and sang in his deepest baritone, “Always…have… what , Willow Morgan? Just in case there’s any confusion.”
He handed her the mic, and Willow didn’t hesitate for a single second, singing softly in a breathy voice as the crowd began to go wild.
“I loved you once, Ash Murphy. I love you still. And every damned day between then and now… All the days to come, this is my vow. I’ll love you. I’ll love you. I’ll love you. I will.”
She leaned up on her toes and kissed him. Ash’s face lit up with the broad, beautiful Ash Murphy smile she knew was meant only for her but decided she could share it with her fans for tonight.
“That sounds an awful lot like a song I know,” he said.
She covered the mic and leaned up to whisper in his ear. “When I say it for the first time for real, it’ll be for you and you alone.” Then she leaned back, biting her lip as she grinned. “I don’t suppose you’d want to sing it with me. I feel like these folks were maybe hoping for a duet tonight.”
Willow’s long-lost guitar-stringing crew member, Mel, strode out onstage carrying a second mic on a stand. Willow narrowed her eyes at the conspirator as she set the mic in front of him, and Mel simply smiled and shrugged.
Willow snapped her mic in the stand and strummed her guitar again. “What do you think, folks? Should we let him sing?”
The crowd went wild, clapping and cheering. Even her brother, which made her think that Ash had more than one coconspirator that night.
“I’m glad you agree,” Willow continued. “Because after that sob fest, I’m gonna need a little help until my voice returns to normal.” She grabbed her half-full bottle of water from the floor, finished it up, and then nodded toward Ash who mouthed, One, two, three . And then they both launched into the song. Together.
***
It was well past two in the morning when they finally collapsed onto Willow’s tour bus bed, her exhausted, elated, naked body curled up against his.
“What are you going to do now that you’re a free agent?” she asked as he combed his fingers softly through her hair.
He kissed her cheek, her nose, and then her lips, and Willow hummed a soft sigh.
“I don’t know,” he finally replied. “I think I want to set up a new base camp in Meadow Valley…help my brothers with the ranch. There’s room on the property to add on to the guesthouse. Was thinking of building a small studio, make the music I want to make when I want to make it.” She hooked her knee over his, and he pulled her closer. “But mostly,” he continued. “I’m just waiting for this great new album to drop and hoping I can be a roadie for the band when they go on tour to promote it.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “And after this promotional tour, if the band’s singer wants to regroup but doesn’t really have a home base of her own, are you open to sharing yours?”
Ash leaned his forehead against hers. “Will I have to sleep on the couch?”
Willow laughed, but then her expression softened. “I love you,” she told him, and it suddenly felt like the most natural thing to say. No more hiding behind fear or lyrics or anything that might keep him from knowing how very real those words were.
“I love you too,” he told her. “But you and everyone else in the world pretty much knows that by now.”
She brushed her lips against his. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”
His lips parted in a smile against hers. “Then I guess you’re going to have to make up for lost time.”
“Oh?” Willow asked. “I should probably get started, then, shouldn’t I?” She kissed his forehead. “I love you, Ashton Elias.” She kissed his cheek. “I love you, Ash.” She kissed his other cheek. “I love you, Murphy.” She kissed his nose. “I love you, cowboy.” She kissed his mouth.
“That one’s my favorite,” Ash told her.
“Which one?” she asked.
“All of them.” He grinned. “And you, Willow Morgan Hammond. You’re my favorite.”
She crawled over him, throwing the blanket over their heads as they lost themselves in each other, finally drifting off to sleep as the sun peeked above the clouds and somewhere, not too far away, a wise old chicken squawked to greet the day.
As it turned out, Willow was wrong. Loving Ash Murphy wasn’t exhausting at all. In fact, it was the easiest thing she’d ever do.