Micah
You ruined me too.
The fact that thought she could be around Fletcher and not completely lose her mind was a joke. They’d barely done anything together that day and she was already wondering if he still kissed the same way, if the calluses on his hand would still scratch against her naked skin seductively. When they talked about the song, she wanted to ask who he dedicated it to. For so long, she’d forgotten about the mermaid tattoo on her back, so when Fletcher had pointed it out, she’d been startled. Jealousy had sparked through her at the thought that someone else had inspired him to write a song about being drawn into the deepest depths of the ocean to lose himself. Was it silly to wish that the song was about her? Probably. But anybody listening to the song would wish that he’d written it with them in mind.
She still remembered the first time she heard the song—six months pregnant and standing in line at the grocery store. They were playing a local radio station and the host was talking about how a new song by The Rescuers was holding the top spot on the charts. hadn’t listened to their music since her night with Fletcher, so she’d been caught off guard. What really stumped her was that when the song started, it was slower than their usual stuff and had a more acoustic sound to it. Then instead of Jack’s smooth and silky vocals, a deep and scratchy sound came through the speakers. The memory of Fletcher singing softly in her ear that night, his wants and desires whispered as they fucked filled her mind. And it only got worse when she heard the lyrics.
Luring me away from the shore
She’s got me moving my oars
Bringing me in closer with every smile
I’d row for miles just to have her again
Those hands in my hair,
A mouth that stole my air.
She’s got me moving my oars,
Luring me away from the shore
She’s got me hook, line and sinker
Dragging me into her depths
The brightest star, a siren
My mermaid.
Everywhere she went for a year after that—bringing Emery home from the hospital, visiting her doctor for a standard check-up, doing another grocery run—Fletcher’s voice followed her. When Emery was a year old, made the decision to get the tattoo. Because of Geoffrey, she decided to get it on her back where he wouldn’t see it. After all, it was a tattoo she got in honor of a man that blew her mind and nobody else needed to know anything about it.
Picking at the cheese board, she stared at Fletcher’s empty chair while he visited the restroom. She couldn’t quite believe that of all the towns in the world, hers was where Fletcher Kelley ended up. Besides, she wasn’t the first person to fall for a rockstar and definitely not the first to have the best sex of her life with one either. The difference was that she had a second chance and she wanted to make the most of it.
Movement in her periphery drew her attention to Fletcher’s tall form. Dressed in dark jeans and T-shirt with a black and white plaid shirt over it, he fit right in with the rest of the people. His shoulder-length hair and salt and pepper beard was what made him stand out. A small smile tugged at her lips as she tried to connect the rockstar from the past with the silver fox walking towards her. He’d grown up really well. His eyes met hers and he arched an eyebrow, clearly confused by her smile and shook her head.
If she let herself enjoy this, she was going to fall head over heels for Fletcher all over again.
“You okay?” he asked as he pulled out his chair and sat down.
“Thinking about how good it is to be here with you.”
The wrinkles on his forehead smoothened out and his lips spread into a smile, making her heart trip over itself. Nobody would call Fletcher ‘classically handsome’, but he was the kind of attractive that would make you look twice.
Harriet returned with fresh glasses and a bottle of the fancy Blanc, poured some out for the two of them and made herself scarce. The chatter around them had been pretty steady since they arrived and she hadn’t even paid attention to the other guests. But as she sipped on the wine, watching Fletcher do the same, every sound and color came into focus.
“So,” he started, setting his glass down to lean forward. “You know all about me taking over for Hank at the store. What about you, why speech therapy?”
She swirled her wine, crossing one leg over the other as she relaxed in her chair. There wasn’t anyone new in her life that wanted to know why she picked the career she did, because everyone already knew enough about her. So talking about it felt weird.
“I grew up with a stutter that only got the attention of a teacher once I was in high school. Do you know how many kids are told that they’ll ‘outgrow’ their stutters?” she asked, throwing finger quotes around ‘outgrow’, because it was what her parents did. “You don’t really outgrow it, you become really conscious and scared and nervous around people who speak without any problems.
“I was bullied a lot for not being able to express myself confidently. Kids are really mean when they want to be and I wanted to help others like myself as much as possible. Not all speech therapists have had impediments or difficulties, so they might not really know what it’s like. But my therapist did and she helped me so much. I wanted to do the same thing.”
He nodded, his eyes fixed on her face. “Do you remember stuttering the night we met? You tripped over a few words and you looked so mad about it.”
“I remember.” She’d been embarrassed to be stuttering in front of him then, but ignored it. They’d fucked a few times by then, mouths having explored each other already. And then she had trouble with the simplest words. “I’m surprised you remember.”
“I remember a lot more than you realize, Mick.”
She bit down on her bottom lip, heart racing as she stared at Fletcher. It wasn’t only the words he used, it was the way he said it. His tone was firm, focus unwavering and he put emphasis on the nickname she gave him years ago instead of her full name. She had so many questions, so much she needed to know and understand. wondered if they remembered the same things, if he sometimes dreamed about that night the way she did. Instead, she released her lip with a soft sigh, drawing his gaze to her mouth.
“Did you ever really imagine that you would retire from music and do… this ?” asked, needing to quickly step away from the intense way his attention and words made her feel.
He hesitated, eyes narrowing briefly before he shook his head. “I honestly didn’t think I’d retire. Truly believed I’d be playing music until the day I died. But I understood why the band needed time off, why they needed to take the break. Did I ever imagine moving to a small town to run my uncle’s music store? No. But I’m really glad that I made the move.”
“Me too,” she told him honestly, not even bothering to hide her blush or smile. “Emery is glad too. She’s in her rock phase of life and The Rescuers are her favorite band.”
“Kid’s got good taste. Speaking of phases, the first time I saw her she was decked out like Avril Lavigne, now she’s rocking this punk rock Barbie vibe.”
She laughed, surprised that he had caught onto what her daughter was doing. “I don’t even know where she comes up with these things, but since she was eight, Emery has tried everything. There was a time she thought she was a Tolkien elf and learned the whole language.”
“Fluently?”
She nodded, recalling the first time Emery had an entire conversation in Elvish. “I assume so. Once she commits to something, she goes all out.”
“That’s pretty impressive.” He sipped on his wine and then added, “Gotta admit though, seeing that Avril Lavigne outfit was a flashback I didn’t know I needed.”
“Right? I was so surprised when she showed up dressed that way one morning. I’m not even sure what prompted her to listen to that music, but she claims they’re all bangers .”
He laughed, wrinkles forming at the corner of his eyes and hid her smile with her glass. Talking about her daughter was safe, because it took her away from those intense feelings she was trying to stuff down. Their conversation drifted into comfortable banter, discussing what it was like being a single mother and why she’d stayed in Sirena Beach when she could go anywhere else—“I lived in big cities and they’re too much for my quiet soul.” Most of her dates wanted answers to superficial questions like favorite movie or book, celebrity they most looked like, restaurant that was overrated. Fletcher had always found a way to get her to talk about the things that she thought to herself about regularly, never cared to voice them before.
The sound of someone tapping against a microphone drew their attention to the stage where four men in brightly colored shirts were setting up with their instruments. She had noticed the stage, but didn’t realize that she would be treated to a live show as well.
“Hello Sirena Beach, we’re The Beach Quays. Hope you’ve drunk enough wine to get on the dance floor. We’ve got some originals, tons of covers and maybe even room for some special requests if you’re lucky. Now, empty those glasses and get ready to boogie!”
She grinned as the band launched into a cover of “Dance, Dance, Dance” by The Beach Boys. Fletcher was watching her as she shimmied in her seat and when she got to her feet, he shook his head. She held both hands out to him, swaying and wiggling in place, all while she smiled at him. A few people had already made their way onto the dance floor and she knew that if she could get this man on his feet, they’d have the best time ever.
“Dance with me, Fletch,” she pleaded, still grinning at him. And after what felt like forever, he put his hands in hers and she tugged him to his feet.
Joining the rest of the people on the makeshift dance floor, he wrapped one arm around her waist and held their other hands against his chest as they moved to the music. The band went through different genres, tempos and ranges and through it all, he held her as they danced. He twirled her out and back in, his hands always landing on her hips every time she was right against him. She wound her arms around his neck, head tipped back to stare into his eyes as the band performed “Songbird” by Fleetwood Mac. She mouthed the lyrics along with them, smiling when she realized Fletcher was doing the same thing. When the song ended, his forehead dropped to hers with a heavy sigh and before either of them could make a move, the lead singer was speaking again.
“I don’t know how many of you know this,” he started and looked up in time to find the whole band staring at them. “The reason I became a musician is because of a band called The Rescuers and I’m losing my shit because standing right in front of me is one of the greatest drummers to ever exist in the world.”
Fletcher blushed, but saw the smile tugging at his lips. She knew that he was the most private member of the band and that being called out like this was not exactly the most exciting thing for him.
“I apologize for putting you on the spot, Mr. Kelley, but it would be my absolute honor if you could perform one song with us today?”
“He would love to,” said, drawing Fletcher’s unimpressed glare. “Come on, Fletch, just one song. Do it for me.”
He sighed heavily, like it was such a task to get up on that stage and sing with a band that admired him. Pressing a kiss to the side of her head, Fletcher squeezed her hip and to loud cheering, he climbed onto the stage as an acoustic guitar was handed to him.
“For the record,” he said, speaking directly into the microphone, eyes drifting to hers. “I haven’t performed in years and I’m only doing this because my date won’t let us go home otherwise.”
The crowd laughed and she shrugged, arms crossed over her chest. His entire career with The Rescuers, Fletcher had sat behind the drums and while she knew that he could play every instrument known to man, she’d never seen him do it. Over the years, had made it a point not to look up videos or any other kind of content in regards to him. Because she knew that once she laid eyes on him, she would completely lose herself and she didn’t ever want to go down that road.
Fletcher cleared his throat as he strummed the guitar and then spoke again. “When I wrote this song sixteen years ago, I never imagined it would become so popular.” His eyes found hers again and she pressed her lips together as the opening chords of “Mermaid” filtered through the speakers. “This was always for you, Mick.”
’s eyes widened and her heart clenched as he started singing. In that moment, with her brain short-circuiting, she realized that he hadn’t simply dedicated the song to her, the whole thing was about her. Tears pricked the back of her eyes and she pressed one hand to her chest, her heart beating so fast she was sure she was going to pass out any minute.
One night will never be enough
Her curves so soft, her heart so tough
With eyes that glitter in the dark
Every inch of my skin sparked
As she lures me away from the shore
She’s got me moving oars, faster.
I’d row for miles, just to take her harder
Those hands in my hair,
A mouth that stole my air.
She’s got me moving my oars,
Luring me away from the shore
She’s got me hook, line and sinker
Dragging me into her depths
A siren, an angel, the brightest star
My mermaid.
When the rest of the band joined in on the second verse, taking Fletcher’s attention off her, stumbled backwards and away from the crowd. She blinked back tears and hurried to the restroom, Fletcher’s gruff voice following her until she closed the door and leaned against it. Her heart threatened to beat its way out of her chest and her knees were not going to hold her steady if she didn’t find somewhere to sit. Locking the door to one of the stalls, she covered the toilet and sat down, burying her face in her hands. She should have been happy to know that “Mermaid” was about her, but it was also startling to know that this man had felt so much for her then that he wrote an incredible song about her.
Once she’d gotten her breathing steady, she stepped out of the stall to look at herself in the mirror. The dull sounds of the song filtered into the restroom, but she focused on herself. The woman staring back at her in the mirror wasn’t the same one Fletcher wrote the song about, she wasn’t even the same woman that married Geoffrey. She’d changed so much since that night sixteen years ago, but at the same time that young girl still existed somewhere inside her. Wetting a paper towel, she dabbed it against her neck and chest, cooling down her warm skin.
Being with Fletcher already made her feel a certain way, but knowing how he felt was a whole other thing—discombobulating, exciting, and fun. He’d been so enamored with her sixteen years ago and had been obsessed with him then. To be called backstage by a musician you admired and had a crush on was a really big deal. She’d put on this act of being a confident woman, sexually experienced and dominating in bed; truth was she had been none of those things. In Fletcher’s presence, she’d put on her armor and she’d worn it recklessly.
was that woman now. Geoffrey had never been interested in the kinkier parts of sex, not that was experimenting that much. He was a missionary position, two pump chump. Some days, she wondered how she got knocked up when the sex was pretty average. Especially when she’d experienced mind-blowing sex with Fletcher, and then with other random partners in the years since. Though, it had been a long time since she’d indulged in a fun sex fueled night with someone. Between work, Emery, and trying to keep her head on straight, barely had time for her best friends. So a one night stand that would disappoint? Not interested.
All right, that’s enough lamenting. Get back out there and into the arms of that rockstar.
“ Former rockstar,” she muttered to herself. After one more quick look in the mirror, she opened the door to the restroom as a gaggle of young girls stumbled in. Stepping around them, she smoothed down her dress and headed back to the table.
Fletcher was standing there, frown marring his forehead and hands clenched at his sides, until he saw her. Then all of him relaxed. Her heart threatened to explode, tears pricking the back of her eyes.
“I was starting to get worried. Are you okay?” he asked, meeting her halfway. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, but she also knew that a conversation was way more important.
“You know, having a chat with myself.”
“I’m sorry,” Fletcher said to her, eyes dropping to his feet. “I should have told you that in one night not only did you inspire a song, you also changed my life.”
“Fletch…” she whispered, unsure if she wanted him to stop or keep going.
“I still haven’t met a woman that could render me speechless and full of words at the same time. You ruined me and I am so fucking grateful for it.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks and she pressed her lips together as she closed her eyes, processing everything he’d admitted. Her heart hadn’t expected to feel so much all at once and she wanted to scream to rid herself of all these emotions.
“Fuck, , I’m sorry.” His voice was closer than before and she shook her head as she wiped at her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to… shit .”
Opening her eyes, she found herself staring into his distraught face. Lifting a hand, she cupped his cheek, feeling the roughness of his beard against her palm. His eyes flickered to hers and she saw distress in the brown pools.
“You ruined me too,” she whispered and he blew out a breath, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers.