Chapter 27 Breakup Album
Breakup Album
SADIE
Istare at Walker, trying to keep my jaw shut so it doesn’t hang open.
I’m getting a private concert, a never-before-heard cover, of one of my favorite songs, from my all-time favorite artist.
This is beyond my wildest dreams.
Walker’s velvety, raspy voice. The expert way his fingers move over the guitar strings.
Lord, have mercy.
When the last note rings out, he gives me an expectant look.
“So?” he says. “Me or Kurt?”
Oh my God. Is that what this was about? His competitive instincts got fired up and he couldn’t have another artist reign supreme in his household?
I can’t even fault him too much, because that cover might in fact be better than the original.
I press a finger into his solid, muscular chest. “You are such a dork.”
His eyebrow shoot up. “What?”
“You just had to prove yourself the king around here, huh?” But I’m smiling as I say it, so much I can’t even restrain it.
He tilts his head, studying my face, that vulnerability flickering across his features. “Does that mean you liked it?”
Liked it? I just had the full megawatt power of Walker Rhodes turned on to me. For me. If I’d thought he’d had superpowers when he persuaded me to sit down at Jane’s office, it’s got nothing on being on the receiving end of his musical performance.
The man is a superstar for a reason.
“It was amazing,” I tell him. And then I kiss him.
When I pull back, he looks so adorably pleased that my heart swells.
Then, softer, I say, “Walker. You picked up your guitar.”
He looks down on it in his arms like he forgot it was there. “Hot damn.” And then he grins. Dazzling white. “Holy shit, Sadie.”
Suddenly the guitar is on the table and I’m being lifted by my waist and spun in the air.
I give a little shriek of laughter as he whirls me around. He's laughing too. Actually laughing, un-self-conscious and bright.
And then he’s putting me back down on the floor, and I’m sliding down the length of his body, and he’s looking deep into my eyes.
“Look at you. Shattering every dry spell I’ve ever had.” His elated look turns disgruntled. “I just wish it weren’t another man’s song that broke this particular one.”
So territorial. I bite back a smile.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say. “Hardest part is over. You picked up the guitar. Spite is a great motivator, huh?”
His hands tighten where they still rest on my waist. “That wasn’t spite motivating me, darlin.’”
“What then?”
“Same thing that’s been man’s number one motivator since the dawn of time.” His eyes glint. “Trying to impress a woman.”
He bends his head to murmur in my ear, “Worked, didn’t it?”
I laugh. “Your ego is out of control.” I shake my head, pretending like I’m not finding that arrogance way more charming than I ought to.
Then, more seriously, I say, “Walker. You should record that. That’s one of the best cover songs I’ve ever heard.”
“I don’t know. Feels weird to come out of seclusion with a cover song. If I put something out there at this point, I want it to be a song of my own. A new one.”
“So write it.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Just get something on the page. Then you can play it for me, and I’ll tell you if it passes the mayonnaise and chartreuse test.”
He grins, warm and a little crooked. “You know, I’d rather hear you tear my bullshit to pieces than listen to anybody else’s words of praise.”
I bring my hands up to his cheeks and kiss him again. Now that we’ve started kissing, I never want to stop. “You want to impress me? Write a song, cowboy.”
He catches my hand before I can pull away and drags me to him for yet another kiss. We both let the brakes off ourselves and now we can’t stop touching each other.
It feels so easy to fall into each other like this. So natural.
As we make out, I'm reaching around to grab his butt when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He doesn’t appear to notice, so I break the kiss and murmur, “You’re vibrating.”
His lips trail along my collarbone. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Perv. No, really.” I reach into his pocket to fish out his phone and hand it to him.
He glances at the screen, still kissing his way down my neck. “Dad's dropping Jonah off in an hour.”
I put both hands flat on his chest to create a small amount of space between us. “How do you want to handle this? Us. When it comes to Jonah.”
He looks away.
“He's already so attached to you.” His eyes come back to me, and he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “More than he's been to anyone since… well, since his mom. Maybe even more. You’re the one who’s here every day, you’re the one who spends time with him.
He’s bonded to you hard. And he feels that love you give him back.
He’s just soaking it up like a little sponge. ”
“I know.” My chest aches saying it. “And I love him too. Which is exactly why leaving is already going to be so hard. And…”
I take a deep breath. It’s all crystallizing now.
“That means we should be discreet,” I say. “For his sake. Don’t you think?”
“You're probably right,” he says slowly. “I don't want him getting confused. Getting his hopes up. Thinking things are…” He almost flinches. “Thinking things are one way and having it turn out different.”
“So we carry on like we have been. No kissing in front of him. Business as usual during the day. Whatever this is, we keep it separate.”
“Whatever this is,” he repeats. A little pointed. He’s clearly not stoked on this approach. “So what, you sneak into and out of my bed? I can’t pull you into my arms or hold you close when he’s around?”
My heart contracts painfully. “You know it’s for the best. It’s too confusing otherwise.”
“Yeah.” He holds my gaze. “Yeah. For everyone.”
I hear what he doesn't say. That it will be too confusing for us too, acting like this is a real relationship when the expiration date is already built-in.
Before I can reply, he’s wrapping both arms around me, his chin dropping to the top of my head.
“I know you're right.” A long exhale against my hair.
“I'm just feeling selfish. I've only got you for a little while and I want to have you all the way. Not in pieces. Not hidden, like some dirty little secret. That’s not what this is.”
I give him a wobbly smile. “Well, mission accomplished on the ‘having me all the way’ part.”
“You know what I mean, baby. I want to put my arm around your waist when we're walking down the street.
I want to hold your hand in front of people.
I don't want to act like you're just the nanny when you're…” A rueful smile crosses his face, complicated and warm all at once.
“When you're the queen around these parts.”
I press my face into his chest.
“So what are we doing here, Walker?” It’s easier to ask the question when I’m not looking directly at him. “Is this a summer fling? No strings attached?”
“Is that how you want to think of it?”
I don’t know. I thought those were supposed to feel light and easy and flirty. Sweet as cotton candy and just as fast to melt away.
This feels so much bigger than that. So much deeper.
But who am I kidding? I’ve never had a boyfriend. Maybe it always feels like this. Like the other person is your whole world and you can’t imagine life without them.
That’s what all the love songs are about.
And then comes the breakup album.
“I feel totally out of my depth here,” I admit. “You know I’ve never done this before. Never had something that was no-strings-attached or had a serious relationship or any of it.”
He tips my chin up with two fingers until I meet his eyes.
“Let me tell you something,” he says. “No strings attached is when you have a good time, you walk away, neither one of you loses sleep over it. I've been losing sleep over you since the first night I met you. This is all strings for me, Sadie. Hopelessly tangled up in them since day one.”
“I've been losing sleep too,” I say. “But Walker… I leave in less than two months.”
“I know. Trust me, baby, I think about that fact all the time.”
He looks pained by it. My heart hurts for him. For both of us.
I try to explain myself better.
“My whole life, the only person I could count on was me,” I admit.
“When my daddy left, I learned I couldn't count on him.
When Momma fell apart, I learned I couldn't count on her.
Every time I've needed something the answer has been the same. Figure it out yourself, stand on your own two feet, don't need anyone because they won’t be there for you anyway.”
He's listening. Still and present, his eyes on my face.
“That job is the proof,” I say. “That I did it. That I kept my promise to myself to build something that no one else can take away from me. I can't give that up. Not even for…”
Not even for this.
He looks at me for a long moment.
Then he brings his hand up and cups my face with both palms, his thumbs moving slow along my cheekbones.
“I would never ask you to,” he says. “Not in a million years. That dream you built? You go claim it. You strut down those city streets like the fucking badass you are, and know that you accomplished everything you said you were going to do.”
He brushes a strand of hair away from my eyes.
“I've been where you are. Young and hungry and wanting to prove something.
I did it. It was worth doing. And I don't want to be the reason you don't get to do it too.” He holds my gaze.
“Go to New York. Build your life. That vow you made to yourself, you keep it.”
“Then where does that leave us?” I whisper.
“That leaves us,” he says, “with the best thing that's happened to me in years. And I'd like to keep it for as long as I can. If you'll let me.”
I lean my cheek into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palm against my face.
“This is the best thing that's happened to me in years too,” I tell him. Possibly ever. I give him a shaky smile. “So let's not waste a single day of it.”
A half-smile in return, warm and a little sad.
“That means it’s my job to give you a summer worth missing.
And when you’re in New York, and the dazzle of the city lights ever feels a little too bright, you can close your eyes and come back here.
To the mountains. The big sky. To the cowboy who loved every minute of being your first.”
My throat tightens.
“Deal?” he says.
I look at him for a long moment.
“Deal,” I say.
A flash of melancholy across his expression, and then infinite tenderness.
“All right then,” he says. “Let's do it. Watch every sunset from this porch and every sunrise from my bed.”
I feel the corners of my mouth pull up. “Drive on dirt roads with the windows down and music playing loud.”
“More midnight swims.”
“Take Jonah to the farmer's market. Let him pick anything he wants.”
His eyes soften even further at his son’s name, like always. “Then he and I will show you all our favorite trail rides. And I'll ask you to dance with me in the kitchen after he goes to bed.”
“Let’s sleep under the stars, at least once.”
“At least once. But I can’t guarantee how much actual sleeping will be going on when I’ve got you in my arms,” he adds, teasing.
I laugh, but it fades as he just looks at me, eyes gone warm and dark.
He kisses me again, deep and impassioned. His fingers curl against the back of my neck, pulling me in until there's nothing between us.
When we come back for breath, I look at this man I’m falling for.
Who picked up his guitar this morning for the first time in two years because I teased him.
Who burned the pancakes he was making for me because he was too caught up kissing me against the kitchen counter.
Who is standing on his back porch on this little piece of paradise telling me he wants to hold my hand in public and wants me to chase my dreams at the expense of his own happiness.
“There's one more thing I want from you before the summer ends,” I say.
“Name it and it's yours,” he says instantly. “Shower you in diamonds? Done. New car? Let’s get it right now. I’ve been dying to buy you a new one anyway.”
“No, you crazy cowboy,” I laugh. “I don’t want diamonds and fancy cars.”
“What do you want, baby? I just wanna give you the world.”
“I don’t want the world. I just want you.”
Once more, I can tell I’ve taken him off-guard.
“Not too many people wanting ‘just me’ for a long time now,” he says. “Maybe ever.”
He says it simply, without any self-pity, and my chest tightens.
Fifteen years of being one of the most recognized faces in country music. Wanted by everyone, known by no one.
Everyone loving Walker Rhodes, the star. But no one loving the man who comes home weary after a long day on the ranch and fusses over his kid's sunscreen and swims laps alone beneath the moonlight.
He came back here because it was the only place where he was just a man and a father. The owner of a guitar he couldn't bring himself to play.
He came back home, and he found me, swimming by myself in that lake. Both of us nothing alike and yet the same. Both so deeply rooted here in our hometown, and yet both of us so lonely.
Until we found each other.
“I don’t care about Walker Rhodes, the myth and legend,” I tell him. “I just care about the man underneath it. About my…”
My what? My boyfriend? My first love?
“My man,” I settle on.
I can tell by his expression he likes that.
“So,” I continue, “I want you to promise me to do one specific thing that will be good for your soul.”
“What’s that?”
“I want you to promise me you’ll write a song. Not for me. For you.”
Surprise moves through his face. Whatever he was expecting me to ask for clearly wasn't this.
Then he smiles.
He used to be all storm-cloud eyes, but this is a full-beam-of-sunlight kind of smile.
They used to be so rare, those smiles. This is the third one I’ve seen this morning.
“Darlin’,” he says. “Don’t you know? Any song I ever write again will be for you.”
I look at him, at the green eyes and the smile and the hands warm on my face, and I feel my own smile spread, helpless and wide, the kind I can't manage or contain.
I know that leaving is going to tear me apart.
But for now, it’s still summer. The meadowlark is still singing, and the sun is still shining, and the coffee is still hot.
Autumn is a world away.
So Walker and I sit back down and he pulls me into his lap and starts to teach me some chords on the guitar, and then his hand starts wandering up my shirt and his lips are on my neck and he puts the guitar away and plays me instead.