Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Movement wakes me the following morning. My neck feels like it’s in a trash compactor from two nights on this couch, but I’ve slept on way worse for a lot longer. Those early years of touring put us in some questionable sleep situations, not to mention the hard decade before that.
I struggle to a sitting position and squint toward the presence hovering over me.
“Morning sunshine,” Callie greets, way too chipper for this time of day.
She motions for me to move so she can join me on the couch.
But instead of settling in, she slides her open laptop onto my chest.
Confused, I remain still as she drops a quick kiss on my forehead and says she’s going to shower.
I blink after her, wondering what the hell just happened.
Once she’s gone, I glance at the screen a few inches from my face and inhale a sharp breath. No way.
I shoot a stunned look in the direction she just left, but it appears she really did just drop this bombshell and run .
My gaze settles back on the screen, and I adjust to a better position to read the poem.
Then read it again.
And again.
It’s clearly meant for me, and each pass lands deeper, igniting vague melodies in my head. For not being a songwriter, she naturally writes in lyrics.
“How was I supposed to know your smile was only a distraction?
How am I supposed to feel, stuck in veiled conversation?
Because you never let me in, now I have to watch you drowning.
Quiet suffering, speak!
I’ll stay here, don’t look down.
There’s nothing waiting for you on the ground.
You’re stronger than you’re feeling now.
I’ll stay here.
I’ll stay.”
I pick up the guitar to play with some of the melodies tickling my brain. A few stick, but my mind keeps going back to the mirror song Callie and I were working on yesterday. That one is going to be something special. I feel it.
I’m so engrossed in the music, I don’t even notice Luke until he’s practically in front of me.
Dampening the strings, I watch his gaze cut to the kitchen, the hall, and back to me, like he can’t decide what to do next.
I know the choice he would have made the first time I visited a couple weeks ago, and it’s a testament to how much things have changed that I honestly don’t know what he’ll do now .
When he moves forward and drops beside me, I keep my shock and inner middle-school squeal locked down.
“Is that the song you’ve been working on with Callie?” he asks.
“Nah. Something else. She, uh, wrote me something last night.”
He snaps a look at me, and I shrug.
“That it?” He nods toward the coffee table.
“Yeah. It’s got a natural chorus. I’ve been playing around with some progressions.”
I return to absent strumming as he leans forward to scan the screen. After a few seconds, he sinks into the couch and tips his head back to stare at the ceiling.
“Did you know Elena asked me out first?”
My fingers stall on the strings. I glance at him, but he’s still focused on the ceiling.
“I thought you asked her ,” I say. “Wasn’t your first date that weird lawn party at your aunt’s house?”
To my amazement, a smile cracks his severe expression.
“Aunt Gina was trying for a Kentucky Derby vibe.”
“Yeah, well, without horses, it was just Uncle Nestor in a green tux that never should have been invented and whatever the hell your aunt was wearing on her head.”
He snorts a laugh. “I’m convinced that entire thing was just to give her an excuse to wear the hat she found at the estate sale.”
“I guess social events have been conceived around less. So that wasn’t your first date?”
“It was.”
I squint over at him, and he rotates his head to give me a quick smile before returning to his staring match with the ceiling.
“But we all watched you ask her. In the most obnoxious, melodramatic display of all time, if I recall. ”
“I did ask her.”
“Dude. You lost me.”
Another smile skims his lips at a memory. “It started the day we were rehearsing for that open mic night at the farmer’s market. Remember that?”
“Six people, lots of baked goods, and way too many questionable wood carvings. Go on.”
“Yeah, well, during our break, when I went to the kitchen to grab a drink, Elena pretty much tackled me in the hallway and dragged me into the laundry room. I thought I was in trouble or something, but instead she told me I was going to invite her to my aunt’s party.
Oh, and I’d be doing it at the family barbeque that night. ”
“What?!”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Yep. She specifically said I had to be the one to ask, because she was afraid your dad wouldn’t accept the reverse. For good measure, she wanted it done as publicly as possible.”
I straighten on the couch. “Hang on. So that’s what all the flowers and bended knee bullshit was about?”
“Yep.” He chuckles and rubs at his knees. “She said she knew I was into her but was too ‘chicken shit’ to act on it. Her words, and she was right.”
He goes quiet, lost in a memory, and I return to plucking on the guitar. My mind drifts back to that time ten years ago. Back when two teenagers had already lived through hell, but still had dreams of something better.
Realizing there is nothing better is what nearly breaks you.
Shuffling behind us ends the spell, and Callie comes into view.
I can’t guess where Luke’s head is after that random confession, so I’m surprised when he tosses a smile in her direction.
“Wow, Callie, I’m a little jealous that he gets a poem and I don’t,” he jokes .
She hesitates, then comes to a decision about something.
With deliberate movements, she stalks toward us and swipes the laptop off the table.
“Hey! I wasn’t done with that!” I whine, and she returns a mock glare.
“I’ll give it back in a second.” She pivots to Luke. “I did one for you as well, but you weren’t awake.”
Luke seems startled, and maybe I am too.
“Really? You wrote two last night?” he asks.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she says as she searches for something on her computer. She must find it and tries to hand the laptop to Luke.
He shakes his head.
“No, you read it.”
She shrinks back. “What?”
“I want you to read it. I want to hear it how you intend it to be heard.”
So do I. I’m already jealous at the thought that Luke will get her words in her voice, while I had to read mine on a heartless screen.
She takes a deep breath, debating. “I…”
“Read it,” I say before she goes down the self-doubt spiral. “I want to hear it, too.”
She passes a look between us and finally gives in.
Damn, she seems nervous, and as she starts to read, I feel bad for pressuring her. She’s clearly uncomfortable with this, and it’s my fault for pushing her. There’s a fine line between encouragement and bullying, and I’m afraid I’ve crossed it.
She stops suddenly.
“No. That’s not it. I’m starting over.”
Standing a little straighter, she transforms into a different woman right before our eyes. This is the woman brave enough to approach a complete stranger in a diner to save his life.
She glances at me, and I offer the most supportive look I can. After a quick evaluation of Luke as well, she launches into the poem again.
This time with the confidence and grace of someone who believes in their art.
“I could have told you everything would be alright.
I could have told you it gets easier the harder you try.
But I couldn’t lie to you, even though I’d die for you.
And I could have told you instead of just holding you.
But what could I say that my eyes haven’t already said?
And what words could heal the wounds that bleed like this?
How many tears will it take to drown away the pain?
I don’t know, but I can hold you.
And I could have taken you far away from here.
But where would that leave you? It’d be the same even there.
I won’t hide you, even though I’d like to.
And I could have spoken instead of just loving you.
But what could I say that my eyes haven’t already said?
And what words can heal the wounds that break us?
How many tears will it take to drown away the pain ?
I don’t know, but I can hold you. I can love you.
I can hold you.”
Fuck.
A loud silence replaces her voice. The haunting words echo around us. Callie looks terrified as she watches Luke. He looks like he’s been punched in the stomach.
This must be related to what happened in the office yesterday, and whatever it is has cut fast and deep.
“Can I see that?” Luke asks quietly, surprising all of us.
Callie hands him the computer with trembling hands. I want to pull her into my lap to comfort her, protect her, but this is between them. When her gaze creeps toward me, I sense the wonder and empathy bubbling up inside me pour out to her.
“That was beautiful, Callie,” I say softly.
She returns a weak smile.
“Thanks, Callie,” Luke echoes faintly.
He hands the laptop back to her, then pushes to his feet.
Without a word, he disappears into the hall, probably stopping at the office based on the sound of the door closing. That damn office again.
Callie looks stunned as she stares after him.
“He loved it, but it was a lot for him,” I say to reassure her.
“I know.” She gives up on the empty corridor and joins me on the couch. “He’s with The Chair.”
Um…
“The chair?”
She nods like that’s a thing people do all the time. “He stole it from the café. I think it has something to do with Elena.”
Stunned, all I can do is blink at her for a long second. “I’m sorry, what?”
She returns a casual shrug. “The Chair is how we met. I was sitting at my table one day at Jemma’s, and he came in and asked me to move.
Apparently, I was in his chair, that chair.
He’d go into the café every day and stare at the same one for several minutes.
Freaked out the servers and café regulars, but no one asked questions or stopped him. ”
She takes a breath, but I can’t. What the hell is she talking about?