Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
H omecoming weekend brought football, apples, and a cold snap that put frost on the leaves and made Della long for the coat she had stashed in her sister’s closet. No matter. Lucy had a boyfriend to snuggle with, and Della intended to take full advantage.
She was having the hometown girl experience she’d never had but always wanted, dammit, and she was going to soak up every second of it.
It might never happen again.
After a week of Ward’s silent distance, she was relieved that they were spending this quality time together. And since they were in public with his family, he’d be forced to actually talk to her.
“I adore this.” Della snuggled up against Ward underneath a cozy fleece blanket supplied by Elyse. “I adore absolutely everything about this. Does the apple festival always start with a football game?”
“Not always.” Ward leaned close to her ear. “What are you doing?”
“Acting like your girlfriend.” She wiggled closer. “And conserving body heat.”
“Lucy,” he growled.
She knew it was irritation, but she felt like there were undertones of something else. Something that made her tingle with anticipation.
“Homecoming is usually a few weeks before the festival.” Elyse spread another blanket over her and Samantha’s laps. She’d brought a rolling cart full of them, which she handed out to anyone who forgot to come prepared. “It all depends on the weather, really. This year’s harvest is a little earlier than normal. It’s nice. It brings a lot more people to the game.”
The stands were packed. It was a chilly night, but so many people gathered to take part in something fun made it feel cozy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been just a face in the crowd, watching someone else perform. There was no pressure. No worry. Just fun.
It was perfect.
Well, almost perfect.
Ward still wasn’t doing a whole lot of talking, and he was so stiff that parts of him might break off in the cold.
She nudged him with her shoulder and pointed at the cheerleaders. “Why can’t they have pants like the guys? They must be freezing to death.”
“If you’re cold, I can get you a coat,” Ward said through his teeth.
“Why would I need that?” She turned her head to look him in the eye. Their lips were so close to touching that to casual observers, it probably looked like a kiss. Della blinked innocently at him and wondered what he’d do if she leaned just a tiny…bit…closer. “A good boyfriend would put his arm around his shivering girlfriend to help her stay warm on a night like this,”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re clearly not cold.”
“You can’t tell if I’m cold or not.”
“You’re not shivering.”
“I could be.” She faked a shiver. “Brrr.”
“Stop that.”
“Why?” Her pulse quickened. “Does it give you ideas?”
“No.” He looked away.
“Uh-huh. Sure it doesn’t.”
“I have rules,” he bit out in a low growl.
“Rules?” She frowned, confused. “What rules? For what?”
Ward abruptly stood. The blanket slid off him to the ground. “Let’s get some cider. Elyse, Sam? You want cider?”
“Yes, please,” Samantha said over her shoulder. She and the girl next to her had been huddled over her phone ever since they sat down. “Bring some for Jenna too please.”
Elyse smiled up at him. “Thanks, honey.”
Ward looked at Della. “With me.”
Ward made his exit so fast Della had trouble keeping up with him.
She sidestepped a trash can. “Is there a fire?”
“This way.” He took her hand and led her underneath the bleachers where a group of teenagers were drinking something out of a brown paper bag.
“Get lost,” Ward said in a voice that perfectly combined the authority of an ex-Marine and an ex-football captain.
The group scurried away with a few backward glances.
“Well, that was effective.” Della peered at him, confused but a little hopeful. “Are we going to make out under the bleachers?”
“We have to get something straight.” Ward stepped into her, so close she could feel the warmth of him through her too-thin sweater. “Until your situation is resolved, the only relationship we have is fiction. I have a job to do and rules to follow, Ms. …”
Della could see him swallowing the Bellamy that should have followed.
“Lucy,” he ground out like a curse.
“I know there are rules, Donovan . You told me all about them when we first got here.” She’d already broken one of the rules. But dammit, it was one tiny slip in the storeroom. It didn’t count, and it wasn’t her fault. Anybody would sing along to Shania Twain. Even Shania Twain.
“I have rules too. Professional rules.”
“You mean bodyguard rules? Like what?” She shifted so that her back was to the group of people who wandered by. “You should put your arms around me if you don’t want people asking if we’re okay. And you should put the frowny face away too, or they’ll think they need to come to my rescue.”
He kept his hands at his sides. “Rule five: Don’t be out of contact.”
“Unless you’re me, of course, then don’t contact anyone at all.”
“These rules aren’t for you , Lucy. They’re for me. Rule four: Don’t be intoxicated while on duty.”
He was reciting his rules in reverse order like it was some kind of countdown.
“I’ve seen you have a drink.”
“One. I had one drink, and only after?—”
“After I drove you to it?” she supplied in her most helpful tone.
“It was a prop.”
“Sure it was. You had two props at the birthday party. And three the other night when Rachel came in. Seems to me you blew right past rule four.”
“Rule three,” he ground out. “Always trust your instincts.”
“Really?” She tilted her head. She knew he was trying to make a point. She just wasn’t sure what, exactly, the point was. “Or do you mean trust them except when it comes to what might make you happy? Because I was there in that sunflower field with you. I know you were having a good time.”
“Rule two,” he continued like she hadn’t said anything. “Never let your guard down.”
“Please.” She snorted. “As if you ever would. And I’m still not seeing a rule that means we can’t have one tiny kiss. Maybe two.”
“Which brings me to rule one.” He sounded resolved, final. “Don’t get personally involved with a client.”
“You can’t be serious.” She hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. “What am I saying? Of course you’re serious."
“Always.”
“You know that’s insane, right?”
The muscles in his jaw were so tight they looked like they might pop. “It’s vital.”
She shook her head. “It’s setting yourself up for failure. The second two people meet they became personally involved, not to mention it’s impossible to avoid being involved with someone you’re with twenty-four seven.”
“Not impossible. Necessary.” His gazed fixed on hers, and the crowd noise fell away. “Whatever happened or didn’t happen in that field stays in that field. While I’m on the job, that’s all there is. That’s all there can be. I can’t afford to split my focus. I won’t. You…your safety…is my only priority.”
“My…safety.” Her thoughts whirled. It was both incredibly reassuring and absolutely heartbreaking.
“Yes.”
There was something cold and distant in his eyes. He was a closed door that refused to open.
He absolutely meant what he said, but what he said was not what she wanted to hear.
Except…
“Until,” she whispered. “You said until my situation is resolved.”
“Yes.” He nodded at someone passing by.
“What then?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “That’s irrelevant.”
“No. It’s not. Not to me.” Her heart felt numb. It was like he’d hit it so hard he left a blank spot where there should have been a heartbeat. “It’s the most relevant thing in the world. I…”
“Hey, you lovebirds, everything okay?” Ralph called out from near the bathrooms.
Ward gave his dad a wave. “We’ll be over in a second. We need four ciders.”
“Hard or soft?” Ralph asked.
“Two hard, two soft,” Ward said.
“Gotcha!” Roger walked back toward the booth.
Ward turned to Della. “What happens when this is over is a future problem. Today is all that matters. You need to stop playing this game where you turn fantasy into reality. Stop wiggling up against me like a teenager in heat. We aren’t a real couple. We’re faking it.”
“Teenager…in…heat?” She felt a spark of anger burn through the numbness.
He rubbed his hands over his face. “You know what I mean.”
“No…I don’t think I do. I don’t think you do either.” She put her cheek next to his, her hands resting softly on his chest. “If this is all so fake, why does my wiggling against you bother you so much?”
She kissed his cheek and strode off.
Exit, stage left.
He caught up with her by the time she reached the Sevens booth, and the two of them made polite noises as they carried trays of cider back for the entire row.
Faking it for the crowd.
She was good at that.
The game was about to start by the time they settled back into their seats. Della fluffed the blanket over their laps.
Ward didn’t protest, though he shot her a dirty look when she shifted closer to him.
“What? It’s not a big blanket.”
“Right.”
He stared at the field while she cradled the warm cup of cider in her hands and thought about his truly warped professional philosophy.
No personal connection.
Trust instincts…but not people?
Never let your guard down, which translated to never let anyone in.
How the hell did all that even go together? How could anybody live that way?
“Those rules don’t make any sense,” she blurted.
Ward winced.
“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Elyse waved that concern away. “We can explain the rules as we go along. All I really do is watch Mason anyway.”
Della stared at her, confused. “Oh. Um, okay.”
“Stop. Talking,” Ward muttered under his breath.
She glared at him. “Is that a rule? People—normal people— talk to each other, Warden. That’s how relationships…all relationships…work.”
Ward flicked the blanket off his lap, muttered something about popcorn, and left.
Ah, avoidance. The last resort of the emotionally constipated.
She watched him go, resisting the urge to follow and demand that he stop pretending he wasn’t attracted to her. She knew he was. She caught him looking at her all the time, and it wasn’t a checking-to-make-sure-you’re-safe look. It was an I’d-like-to-have-you-in-bed look.
Elyse pointed to the sidelines. “There’s Mason. Number seven.”
Della watched as Mason’s teammates circled around him for some kind of pregame chant. “Oh, so that’s why the bar is called Sevens? It’s his number?”
“Nah.” Samantha leaned forward to look at Della. “It’s Sevens because that was Donovan’s number. You know. Before he left.”
Elyse flashed her daughter a look of disapproval. “It’s both of their numbers, and yes, that’s why Ralph named it Sevens. To honor his sons. Both of them.”
“Yeah, but Dad opened it as Sevens before Mason made captain and picked his number.” Samantha fished a fry out of a basket of goo and slurped it into her mouth. “So it’s mostly for Donovan.”
Elyse’s heavy sigh spoke volumes. This was obviously a sore spot.
“It says a lot, though, doesn’t it?” Della asked. “That Mason picked the same number as Ward?”
Elyse flashed a soft smile. “Yes. It does. I’m really glad you’re both here. I can’t explain how much this has meant, and how much it has soothed old hurts.”
Della put her hand on Elyse’s. “I’m glad.”
“Yeah, that guitar didn’t hurt either,” Samantha said with a big grin. “He won’t shut up about it.”
Della laughed. “Well, I’m glad about that too.” She caught a glimpse of Ward’s dad near the players’ bench. “Why isn’t Ralph sitting with us?”
“Dad always watches from the sidelines,” Samantha said. “So he can keep an eye on the cider booth. Hey, Lucy, did you see this?”
Della turned to look at Sam’s phone and saw a paparazzi shot of herself crossing the street in front of the building where she used to live. The headline read, “Faking Della Bellamy.”
Shock shivered through her.
She’d been so focused on living Lucy’s life in Wires Crossing that she’d completely forgotten why Della Bellamy was there in the first place.
“Oh…no, I haven’t.” She clutched the cup of cider a little too hard, and liquid sloshed over the side. “Ow! Oops.”
She dabbed at her hand with a corner of the blanket while she looked at the image. At first glance, it could be her twin. Same height. Same build. Same fluffy blonde hair.
Samantha turned the phone back to scroll down. “It says that photo of Della that went viral on Tuesday is a deepfake. She wasn’t really in New York, and that condo she supposedly bought was spoofed.”
“Condo? What condo?” The reminder of her old life left her suddenly breathless. “A photo went viral?”
Samantha brightened. “You haven’t heard?” She scooted closer to her mother to lean toward Della. “There was a post Tuesday from some real estate guru or something that said she splashed out mega bucks on a new place in New York City. They said it was because she had another big fight with Piper and wanted to get as far away from her as she could. I don’t buy that, though, because they’ve been so happy. I mean, did you see the Reunion Tour? They weren’t faking that. Anyway, it’s all bull—” She glanced at her mother. “…loney, according to this guy. The photo especially is a deepfake.”
“Oh.” Della tried to act like this was all nothing while fear turned her insides cold. Who was saying that? Why? Was it her stalker? Someone else?
Had Piper seen this? There was no way she’d believe it, right?
What if she did? What if…
Della instinctively turned to check with Ward, but he wasn’t back yet. “That does seem…um…strange. Deep…what?”
“Deepfake,” Samantha said with an air of authority. “They used bits and pieces of real images to make this, but it’s not her. She was never there, according to this Druj guy. See? Looks real though. They did a great job.”
Samantha zoomed in on the blonde woman wearing the same coat that Della had left in storage in New York.
She recognized the pastry shop in the background. She loved their cupcakes.
“How do they know it’s not real?” Della couldn’t help but ask.
Elyse shifted back so Sam could lean across her lap. “He says there’s something funny about the angle of her earring. See?” Samantha pointed to a portion of the image that had been circled with angry red. “And there’s something wrong with the back of her neck but I can’t tell what. It’s probably in the article. Hang on. I’ll check.”
She returned to her seat and started to scroll.
Della’s hand shook. She quickly put the cup of cider down.
She knew what was wrong.
The woman didn’t have any ink near her hairline.
The wind had pushed her hair aside just enough that had it really been Della Bellamy, there would have been a hint of the infinity bells tattoo showing.
Della touched the back of her neck. She’d put on the makeup that morning, just like Annie had instructed. Hopefully it hadn’t worn off.
She felt off balance and exposed.
Even though she was mad at Ward and his stupid rules, she desperately wanted him to come back. He was her personal security, the jerk. He was supposed to be here. He’d said her safety was his only priority, so where the hell was he?
Della fingered the panic button. This wasn’t a real emergency. She knew that. She wasn’t in immediate danger. Still, the urge to push it was strong.
As if she’d summoned him, Ward appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
His sharp eyes studied her as he handed her a bundle of cotton candy. “What’s going on?”
How could she explain what had just gone wrong without giving herself away? “There’s a picture…”
Sam held out her phone. “That Della sighting was a fake. See?”
Ward peered at it over the top of Elyse’s head and grunted. “Looks real to me.”
“That’s because you don’t know Della.” Sam pulled the phone back. “This Druj guy has a whole list of reasons why this is fake. Sounds legit to me.”
Ward sat next to Della. “It’s just gossip.”
“She’s right,” Della said as quietly as she could. Sam seemed busy explaining to her mother how it would be possible to fake a photo of someone. She held the cotton candy up to cover her face. “There’s no tattoo. That has to be him , right? He’d know there should be one.”
She thought he swore under his breath, but when he spoke, he sounded bored. “What are you doing reading trash sites like that anyway, Sam?”
He pulled out his phone and tapped a quick message.
Elyse raised an eyebrow. “Trash site?”
Samantha clutched her phone to her chest. “It’s not trash. It’s The Post .”
Ward snorted, but she couldn’t tell if that was a reaction to his sister or to something Spencer had texted. “It’s gossip.”
“Sammy.” Elyse sounded like the exasperated mother of a teenage girl. “We talked about this.”
“It’s not one of those gossipy nonsense places, Mom. It’s a legitimate celebrity news site, like People . You read that one all the time.” Samantha jutted out her chin. “Besides, I only go there for news about people I’m really interested in. Did you know Della’s been missing for a month now? Her manager says she’s just taking a break between tours, but I don’t buy that. She’s never been off the grid this long before. She’s a social bunny. She never misses a party, and she’s missed two big premieres. Plus the Gala.”
Della inwardly cringed. Sam was absolutely right. Usually she’d have been at those events.
Funny. She hadn’t missed them.
Ward put a foot on the bench in front of him, the very picture of casual and uninterested. “I’d trust her manager over that gossip crap any day.”
“Maybe.” Sam flicked her finger down the screen. “None of the other Bellamys are acting like there’s been a big family fight. Piper’s not even in the country. So I don’t see how that could be true, but then again, some people, naming no names, like to fight from a distance, so…”
“Who would do something like that?” The question burst out of Della. “Why? Why would anyone screw with someone’s family like that? It’s not fair.”
“I know, right?” Sam said. “I can’t believe someone would be so mean. Seriously, what a jerk.”
Ward avoided her gaze.
She knew by the guilty look in his eyes exactly who had started the rumor. She pushed the blanket to the side. “Show me where the bathrooms are, honey?”
“Game’s about to start,” he said. He kept his attention on his phone, like that would stop the conversation they were about to have.
Oh hell no.
She grabbed his hand and dragged him to his feet. “This won’t take long. Honey.”
“Hurry back,” Elyse said. “Kickoff is in five minutes.”
Della dragged Ward out of the stands and back to their spot under the bleachers. She whirled to face him. Fury and fear made her heart pound in her throat. “Did you plant that story?”
“Yes.” He said like it was nothing. Like he wasn’t messing with the most important relationships in her life.
“You had no right. No. Right. Especially without checking with me. That’s my family you’re screwing with.”
“Keep your voice down.” Ward took her by the arm and dragged her farther away from the people mingling near the food trucks. “We planted the story as bait, and it worked. He reacted. It’s a good, solid lead.”
“You used me…and Piper…as bait?”
“No.” His grip on her upper arm was tight. “We used a story as bait.”
“Screw you,” she spat. “It’s the same thing, you asshole.”
“Shhh,” he hissed.
“Don’t you dare shush me.” She stepped into him so she could direct her venom straight at his face. “You should have told me. Sam asked me about it, and I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t prepared. I sounded like an idiot! And how dare you manufacture a fight with Piper of all people. Do you have any idea how hard I worked to repair my relationship with my sisters? Especially Piper.”
He stared at her like she and hard work didn’t belong in the same zip code.
She shoved him. “It took me years. Years. We just got back to a good place and you could have ruined it all! I was right here. Why didn’t you check with me?"
“What would you have said?”
She could tell by his tone that he didn’t think it would have made any difference at all. “I’d have said to use something else. I’d have given you gossip about an ex-lover. Everybody would have expected that, and the stalker would have been pissed. Or you could have said I had a fight with my manager. She wouldn’t have given a shit. Or you could have said any one of a million other things. Anything that didn’t involve my sisters would have worked.”
A tiny ripple of what might have been guilt flew across his face, then vanished. “It’s done. We can’t change it. There’s no point arguing about it.” He took her arm. “We have to get back. Game’s starting.”
She ripped her arm out of his grasp. “I want to talk to her. Now.”
“No.”
“Give me your phone.” She held out her hand. “I want her to know this wasn’t me.”
“Not. Now.” He glanced around. “This isn’t the time or the place.”
“Dammit.” She pushed at his chest. He didn’t move. “How would you feel if someone spread a rumor about you and Mason and you couldn’t tell him it was bullshit? How do you think he’d take it after the way you’ve treated him the last few years? He would be hurt and confused and pissed as hell, and he might never talk to you again. Would you even care? You…are such…a selfish…self-centered…jackass!”
She went to shove him again, but he caught her wrists and held on. “You’re right.”
“Who the hell do you think you are? You’re just…” She stopped struggling. “What?”
“You’re right.” He said it so quietly that she would have missed it if she hadn’t been laser focused on him.
“Oh.” She pulled her hands away. He let her go. “Damn right I’m right.”
“Yes.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Just to be clear, I’m right about what?”
“I should have told you. I shouldn’t have let you get caught off guard.”
His words took the bite out of her anger. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“A secret shared isn’t a secret.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I should have asked for your input on a story that affected you. It won’t happen again.”
“Good.” She crossed her arms, suddenly cold after the heat of the moment. “That doesn’t fix this. Piper’s out there fuming. I can feel it.”
“I’ll have Spencer get word to Piper. She’ll know it wasn’t your fault. I doubt she’s seen the story yet. It’s the middle of the night in Greece.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. My sister has alerts and notifications. She knows. Believe me.” Della rubbed her face. “So now what? He caught your lie, and he seemed pretty pissed off. What does that mean?”
“It means he’s getting sloppy. He’s already made one mistake. He’ll make more. Especially now that his back is up. We’re one step closer to catching him.”
The rest of her anger puddled in the pit of her stomach. A hollow kind of unhappiness flooded into the space it left behind. “So this will all be over soon?”
He took her hand, and they started walking back to the bleachers. “Can’t promise that.”
“No. I suppose not.” She heard an announcer saying something about a fundraiser. “So…we still get to watch the game?”
He glanced at her. “You’re in no danger here. Remember that. Remember who you are. That gossip story has nothing to do with Lucy.”
“Right.” She dragged her feet to make the walk back take a little longer. “Back to playing pretend.”
Funny how she’d been enjoying that game a few minutes ago. Now it just felt hollow.
They reached their seats just as a young girl started singing the national anthem on the field.
Della couldn’t focus on the song beyond an impression. The girl had a sweet voice. Not as strong as Mason’s. Not as clear as Mattie’s. But nice.
She didn’t even try to hum along.
The game started with a loud whistle and a chant from the cheerleaders. The crowd stood as the team lined up to kick the ball. “B-O-L-T-Z! Boooooooooooltz!”
Samantha jumped up and down, her phone seemingly forgotten. “Boltz, Boltz, Boltz!”
“Go, number seven!” Elyse shouted.
Several nearby started chanting, “Mace the Face! Mace the Face!”
Della watched Elyse, Sam, and Ward for clues on when to cheer and when to stand, but her mind wasn’t on the game.
Somewhere, Piper was reading about a fight they never had.
Somewhere, Lizzie was worried.
And somewhere, a man she didn’t know was angry that he’d been made to feel like a fool.
She shook her head to clear it all away. Ward was right. She couldn’t afford to focus on what her stalker was doing, or what Piper was reading, or anything else. She was Lucy. Lucy didn’t have a stalker, and she didn’t have sisters. Lucy would be enjoying the evening out with her boyfriend.
Della impulsively hugged Ward’s arm to put herself back into character.
He glanced down at her with a raised eyebrow.
“You played, right? You were a quarterback like Mason?”
Ward snorted. “Quarterback, yes. Like Mason, no. He’s all finesse and distance. I was more in-your-face.”
“Don’t let him fool you,” Elyse said. “Donovan was one of the best quarterbacks the Boltz have ever had. He could have gone pro.”
Her voice sounded a little soft by the end of that sentence.
Della realized the unsaid part: If his mother hadn ’ t been killed and he hadn’t beaten up the man who did it and then been forced to join the Marines .
She glanced up at him to see how he’d reacted to Elyse’s compliment, but his focus was on the game. “Hit it, Mace. Hit it.”
As if he’d heard, Mason released a long pass that landed sweetly in his teammate’s arms. The crowd erupted in screams to run, run, run!
“Yes!” Ward pumped a fist in the air and shouted, “That’s the way!”
Sam hopped up and down, cheering madly as the Boltz scored their second touchdown. She appeared to have forgotten all about the post she’d shared with them.
“See what I mean?” There was a proud light in Ward’s eyes that soothed away the rest of her anger. “Finesse. I never had that kind of accuracy long distance.”
He loved his family. He was proud of his brother. Those were good things. Very good things.
Elyse waved away his comment. “Like I tell Mason, it’s not a competition.”
Della watched Mason high-five his teammates before they all ran off together. He took his helmet off and searched the crowd until he found where his family was sitting, then lifted his helmet in salute.
“It is for Mason,” Della said.
Ward gave his brother a thumbs-up. “What makes you say that?”
Della saw how that one tiny gesture puffed up Mason’s chest. He stood a little straighter, and he slapped a teammate on the back in celebration. “He competes with the idea of you every day, doesn’t he. Like Pi…like all siblings.”
They all sat down again.
How could she get her point across without giving herself away? Family was messy and complicated. “It’s not easy when someone else always has the spotlight. He has to live up to your reputation, right? Especially in a small town. That gets frustrating. It eats at you. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.”
She could hear Piper’s bitter voice in the back of her mind. You always steal the microphone. You never share the spotlight. Did you think about us at all?
She hadn’t. She could admit that now. She’d almost lost her family because she hadn’t paid attention to what Piper had tried to tell her for years. She’d been a selfish little shit.
Once she’d opened her eyes to that simple truth, she was able to mend fences and hearts.
She kept her voice low, so Elyse wouldn’t hear. “You cast a long shadow here. You don’t mean to, but you do. It would go a long way with your brother if you tell him you know that.”
He stared at the field like he hadn’t heard, but his jaw twitched, so maybe he had.
The after-game atmosphere at Sevens rivaled some of the biggest parties Della had ever been to. People high-fived and laughed so loud it that was impossible to worry about stalkers or rule-obsessed bodyguards.
Della, Cherry, and Ken worked their asses off to keep up with drink orders, along with several other part-time helpers.
Mason strutted in a couple of hours later looking like king of the world as he shouted for a free round for the house.
“Hell yeah!” someone shouted in the middle of cheers.
“Not unless you donate your month’s paycheck.” Ralph ruffled his son’s hair. “Fantastic game, Mason.”
Ward emerged from the crowd and slapped his little brother on the back. “Way to go, Mace. That long pass was perfect. Better than any I ever delivered, that’s for damn sure.”
“It was, wasn’t it.” Mason preened invisible fluff off his shoulder. “NFL, here I come.”
“Your options are wide open, kid. Whatever you end up doing, you’ll be great.” Ward gave his brother a bro-hug. “I’m proud of you.”
Della pushed Ward out of the way and held her arms out wide. “Thanks for such a good time, Mason.”
“Um…you’re welcome?” Mason looked startled.
Della giggled as she pulled him in for a hug. “Seriously, you looked great out there. I’m glad you were my first game.”
“Me too,” Mason said in her ear. “Hey, can you sneak away later? The show’s tomorrow and I wanted you to hear the final version.”
“Absolutely.” Della kissed his cheek. Then, so nobody would wonder what he’d said to her, she added louder, “Of course I’d totally throw over Donovan for you, Mason.”
Everyone laughed except for Ward.
He scowled at his little brother and pulled Della tight against him. “Hey, get your own.”
“I plan on it,” Mason said with a laugh.
Several of his teammates came in to a resounding round of applause.
Just before closing, things had died down enough that Della was able to slip away to the storeroom.
Mason joined her a few seconds later. “Can’t stay long. I just wanted to run through one time, see what you think.”
He grabbed the case from the corner where he’d stashed it and pulled out his guitar.
“It was ready two days ago,” she said, her heart warm with affection. He looked so much like Ward, if her warden were younger and less emotionally scarred. “You got this, you know. You’re good. Really good. And she’s going to love it.”
“Yeah, if the strings don’t break or my voice doesn’t crack or?—”
“Mason…just sing.” Della gave him an encouraging nod. “And if you screw up…just keep singing. Nobody will know if you don’t stop.”
He shrugged and propped his foot on a nearby box.
The first notes were soft and sweet and hesitant. Then he found his confidence.
She swayed back and forth, lost in his spell. If that girl didn’t snatch him up after this, Della had a feeling a dozen others would happily take her place.
When he reached the end, she couldn’t stop the happy sigh. “You have a real gift, Mason. It’s a great song. Really. Great.”
He dipped his chin. “Thanks. I feel like the end’s a little flat, somehow, but I’m not sure what to do about it.”
She considered that, running through the notes in her head. “Try bumping that final verse up a half step through the first part, then up another at the end. It’ll give it momentum.”
He flashed her a doubtful look. “That’ll take it minor. Wouldn’t that be more ominous?”
She smiled. “Only if you want it to be. Try it. Start at the bridge.”
Mason did as she asked. When he got to the final verse, she joined in with harmony to show him exactly what she meant.
They finished on a high note that put a smile on both their faces.
“Hey, you’re right. That’s what it was missing.” He got a crafty look. “Why don’t you sing it with me tomorrow?”
She patted his arm and shook her head. “Oh no. This one’s all you. Besides, you don’t need me. You just focus on Emily and ignore everything else.”
A scuffling sound caught her attention. She turned her head, thinking someone was coming to get supplies. The door was slightly open, but nobody was there. “Did someone try to come in earlier?”
Mason packed his guitar away. “I didn’t notice.”
She could have sworn she’d closed that door. She got up to check the hallway, unease making her tummy flutter. She caught sight of Ken turning the corner at the end of the hall.
He’d probably just come from the bathroom.
Maybe he’d heard the music and took a peek. She would have.
Had he heard her singing?
Maybe he hadn’t noticed. His focus was on his phone, and it was pretty noisy back here with the radio blasting in the kitchen and the TVs shouting highlights in the dining room.
She reassured herself that even if he had heard them, he certainly didn’t think it was someone famous in there.
Still. She should tell Ward. She knew she should. If anyone recognized her, anyone at all, she was screwed. She knew exactly how Ward would react.
He’d relocate her immediately. No goodbyes. No festival. No more Lucy Carmichael.
Her heart ached at giving all this up. At not hearing Mason sing to his girl. Of going back to the way things had been at the beginning with Ward. So cold. So distant.
Surely, this wasn’t that big of a deal. It was just a few seconds. All Ken would have heard was Mason and Lucy playing around with a song. And Lucy had kept her voice soft and low. She’d been background, and nobody paid attention to the background. Piper had certainly told her that often enough.
There was no need to tell Ward. Nothing had happened. Not really.
She ignored the uneasy twitch in her belly and the distant warning bell going off in her head. She was just being paranoid.
She softly patted the panic button pendant and went back to work.