3. Lake
three
Three Days Later
I haven’t gotten out of bed for two days.
Her perfume still permeates my pillows. The room smells like our sex because I haven’t washed the sheets.
Jesus Christ. I can’t get out of my own head.
What the fuck kind of spell did this chick put on me? I don’t do relationships. There’s no point in letting someone in when I know I won’t be what they need, eventually. Still, I’ve never been ghosted.
It’s not like I haven’t done the same thing, but it’s never happened to me. Fucking karma. I need to snap out of this shit. Grow a set of balls.
My phone buzzes on the mattress. It’s Linus.
“You sleeping?” His loud voice booms through the earpiece.
I wince. “Nah.”
“Liar.” It sounds as if he’s moving through an airport or a parking garage, somewhere with echo. “I’m headed to Ty and Zoey’s this afternoon. The whole circus is gonna be there. Avonna, Liam, the wee ones. Zoey’s ready to pop any minute and Ty wants to talk to you before she has the baby. Come by.”
“I don’t want to crash a family thing.” The words are automatic, even if it sounds like a nice break from isolating myself in here.
“You’re not crashin’ anything, brother. Ty told me to ask you,” he assures. “Come. Eat. Hang out for a bit.”
I sit on the edge of my bed for a long time staring at the torn scrap of paper with Neeley’s name scrolled on it.
Part of me wants to stay here and play through my feelings instead of trying to interact with people I respect.
At the same time, I’ve been working my ass off for these kinds of opportunities so I shower, find a clean shirt, and drive across the bridge to West Seattle.
Ty and his wife Zoey’s house sits up above the water on a street thick with old maples turning gold. It’s a warm, low-key place with a wide porch, big windows with a sweeping view of downtown.
Liam McGloughlin, Linus’s husband and the man behind Fireball answers before I knock. He’s got a little girl on his hip with dark curls and a fierce scowl on her face.
“Lake Lyon, welcome to the family.” He steps back to let me in and smooths his daughter’s hair. “Quinn, this is Lake. He plays guitar like the devil owes him money.”
Quinn considers me and points. “Deh-vul?”
“Aye, baby, the devil has nothing on Lake.” Liam shifts her higher and waves me through the door. “Come in. Ty’s in the kitchen pretendin’ he knows how to make a fancy coffee.”
The house smells expensive, fresh and clean. Inside, it’s loud in a good way. A second little girl sits on the rug stacking blocks with a dark-haired woman I knew from her solo music before I ever met her in person.
Avonna looks up and her whole face opens. “Lake.” She says it like we’re friends, which undoes me a little, because I’ve only met her twice. “Sit anywhere. Sloane, can you say hi?”
Quinn’s twin waves a block at me. “Hi.”
“Hey.” I crouch down to her level. “Nice tower.”
She knocks it over and beams.
Zoey, who’s also the CEO of the Rainier Foundation, reclines on a long couch under the window, one hand resting on top of her belly, the other holding a mug. She’s tiny everywhere except the bump.
“There he is. The man of the hour.” She pats the cushion next to her. “Sit. You look terrible.”
I shuffle over. “Uh, thanks.”
“I’m exhausted and pregnant, it’s like truth serum.” She takes a sip of tea. “Ty. Lake’s here.”
Ty emerges from the kitchen with a dish towel over his shoulder and two mugs. He hands one to me without asking what I want. It’s coffee, really strong coffee, and I realize I’ve never needed caffeine so badly.
Even though he’s been my mentor through the foundation for years, this is only the second time I’ve been to his house.
Years in the spotlight have made him protective of his personal life and recent events haven’t helped matters.
He left before I could say hi the other night, but I respect the hell out of him for coming to see me, considering all he’s been through this year.
Like me, he came from nothing. Today, his long hair is tied back, his chin is scraggly with a few days of beard, and there’s a carefulness in his demeanor I haven’t seen before.
“Brother.” He leans down and pulls me into a hug. When he lets go he holds my shoulder and looks at me. “You played your ass off. Glasshouse wrecked me. I had to duck out so nobody’d see my face.”
“That means a lot. Coming from you.” I try to hold eye contact, as uncomfortable as it makes me.
“It’s not a line. You know I don’t do lines.” He kisses Zoey’s head. “Glad you could make it. Pizza’s coming. Sloane negotiated for pineapple on one of them.”
“Pineapple,” Sloane confirms from the rug.
“A travesty.” Liam lowers Quinn to the floor, where she runs straight at my knees, grabs hold and looks up at me like she’s deciding something.
“Up,” she demands.
I stare down at her, uncertain what to do.
“Wow. She doesn’t ever go to people,” Avonna’s eyebrows raise.
I pick Quinn up. She fits in the crook of my arm, shoves her thumb in her mouth and studies my face from three inches away. Something in my chest settles in a way I have no concept of. I’ve held a guitar ten thousand times.
I’ve never once held a kid. It’s kinda nice.
“Awww.” Zoey watches us over her mug. “She likes you.”
Linus is in the armchair across the way, sleeves shoved up, phone face-down on his knee, watching all of it with the smile of a man who likes seeing his closest people in one room.
Liam folds down onto the rug next to Avonna and gathers Sloane into his lap, leaning back against his husband like it’s the most natural place in the world.
For a minute there’s nothing but the soothing energy of the people in this room. Rain patters against the glass and it’s the warmest and coziest home I’ve ever been in.
I can’t appreciate any of it because my heart is in my throat.
Zoey sets her mug down on the side table.
“Okay.” She turns toward me as much as the belly allows. “Who is she?”
I focus on the curls on top of Quinn’s head. “Who’s who?”
“Honey.” Zoey arches a brow. “You had the best night of your professional life and you look like somebody died. There’s a girl in this somewhere, I’d bet my unborn son’s life on it.”
Liam looks at the rug, hiding a smile. Avonna’s the opposite, watching me with steady, unwavering eyes. Ty and Linus glance between all of us.
“Nah, it’s stupid,” I sputter.
“Tell us the stupid thing.” Ty sits on the hearth.
I give them a truncated version. The beautiful woman in a red dress at the bar after the set.
How she noticed something about my music nobody could’ve known unless they’d lived inside it with me.
A night of pure connection and how she disappeared, leaving a piece of my own notebook torn off and folded on the milk crate with her name and nothing else. No number. No way to find her.
“See what I mean?” I shrug. “I can’t think straight because of a woman whom I’ll never see again. I’m an idiot.”
Nobody laughs.
In fact, Quinn pats my chest twice with a small, flat hand, like she’s checking to see if I’m still working.
Linus shifts forward. “Yer not an idiot. Yer a songwriter with an open heart. We’ve all been there, brother. It’s not a character flaw to want connection beyond…erm, the physical.”
“Hmmm. Could be a wound with a record in it.” Avonna tucks Sloane’s hair behind a tiny ear. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but trust me, put all of your disappointment into your music. It’s the one place she can’t disappear on you.”
Ty hasn’t said a word. His eyes are fixed on Zoey, and Zoey’s are on him. A whole conversation passes between them with me outside of it.
Finally, he glances at me, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “You know my band’s album Z. Right?”
“Yeah. Of course.” I nod. “Everybody on earth does.”
“Z is Zoey.” His eyes flick to her and soften.
“Right before the band went on our first tour, she left me. Note on a nightstand, no goodbye, blocked my number, gone. I thought I’d die without her and couldn’t find her or fix it.
” He reaches over and lays his big hand on Zoey’s belly, and she covers it with hers.
“Now, here we are. Happily married. Our first baby coming any day. It took us years to find our way back. The heartbreak didn’t kill me, but I had to be man enough to use it instead of drowning in it. ”
As if on cue, the rain comes down harder. Sloane has fallen asleep against Liam’s chest. Quinn’s eyelids are getting heavy against my shoulder.
“Look, I’m not sure about your situation and I’m not telling you she comes back.
” Ty leans over on his elbows. “Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t.
I’m telling you what you’re holding right now is fuel.
Don’t waste it being ashamed of how bad it hurts.
Make it into something nobody can take from you. ”
“I’m so sick of not being chosen.” It comes out before I can censor myself.
Thankfully, I don’t blurt out the rest. I learned a long time ago how to keep quiet, shrink into myself and try to be useful so a house would keep me.
Even if Ty might understand what a torn piece of paper left on a nightstand does to a person who’s been rejected his whole life, I don’t have the confidence to say any of it.
“Dude. You know I’ve got a studio here.” He clasps his hands in front of him, deep-blue eyes searing my soul. “We’ll be in Seattle for a while, come by. I’d be happy to help you record a few tracks.”
Have I found my place amongst these people?
I’m sitting in a warm room with a sleeping kid on my chest and the most supportive group of adults I’ve ever known, outside of Diego. Nobody asks me for anything. They include me. Appreciate me.
Before I can go down any rabbit holes in my feelings, the pizza comes.
Ty pays the kid at the door while Liam lifts a sleeping Sloane off his chest and lays her on the couch by Zoey, who helps settle Quinn next to her twin.
The rest of us grab slices and stand around the kitchen island stuffing our faces.
By the time I leave, it’s almost dark and the rain hasn’t let up. Ty walks me to my beat-up truck.
“I meant it.” He grips the back of my neck the same firm way he did when I came in. “Let’s record some songs.”
“Yeah, okay.” I toe the ground.
“And, brother.” He waits until I look at him. “She wasn’t nothing. Don’t let a bad experience dim what you want. If you felt a connection, believe in it. Let it be as big as it was.”
He goes back inside.
I sit in the truck a minute, watching the others through the lit windows. I take the folded slip out of my pocket and read the name one more time.
Neeley.
Then I drive home and pick up my guitar.