Chapter 15 Amber
amber
The silence was a bomb.
It cratered the entire day, sucking the joy I’d felt all day and siphoned it out like a hole in my soul.
A bit dramatic, but I was feeling pretty fucking melodramatic at that moment. I knew my label wanted me to do this. They’d been pushing for it for ages, but I made sure I was busy enough not to have to deal with it. They knew how to play me.
I owed it to them for all they did to get me where I was. No matter what I did for them, it was never enough. Oh, they tried to spin it with what a money maker it would be, but there was only so much money a body could spend.
Not to mention, I’d never been driven by a big bag of cash. I wanted my music out there. And okay, I couldn’t help but want the musical achievement awards, but in the end there was one serious fear that always ate at me.
Was I more than just a Christmas song?
“Hey.”
I blinked out of my thoughts.
“Sorry. I’m just thinking about working again so soon.”
“You don’t need to do anything you don’t want to do.” His big hand covered mine.
“Yeah, easier said than done.”
“You just finished a huge sold-out tour. You don’t need to give them shit.”
Impulsively, I leaned over and laid a kiss on his cheek. “Can I send you to deal with them?”
“Yes.”
I laughed and a little of the annoyance and guilt faded. “Don’t make that offer.”
He rolled up to my parents’ farmhouse and I unbuckled my seatbelt. “I had a really good day.”
“Most of the day.”
I shook my head. “The whole day. I’m sorry my real life intruded.”
“It didn’t.”
He was a sweet guy, but I knew the truth. My crazy life always intruded and it was just a fact. I was about to open the door when he grabbed my hand. I turned and he caught the back of my neck with his big, warm hand.
He hauled me over the console, his lips like a fever.
I dragged in a quick breath through my nose and let him draw me into his tempest. The passion that rose between us so effortlessly allowed me to empty my brain and be Amber. I didn’t want to lose that.
I cupped his hair roughened cheek. The softness of his beard and lips as it brushed my skin reminded me of last night.
“Don’t let them take this away,” he said against my mouth.
His cedar scent. The spice that reminded me of Christmas and warmth. A reminder of the things I did actually love about the season. I sunk into that, giving myself another minute.
Lucy’s excited bark followed by Charlie’s barrage of yips dented the cocoon of passion.
I turned my face enough to break the kiss and we both breathed heavily. “God, I don’t know where that comes from.”
His dark laugh made my own bubble up out of the self-inflicted mood killer.
“I think my mom is staring out the window.”
“I hope it’s your mom and not your dad,” he mumbled.
“I’ll see ya.” I slipped away this time.
I could see he wanted to say something more, but I needed a little break from whatever this was between us. I needed to breathe. The incessant reminder of how different our lives were had done its damage.
He hopped out and helped me with the bags and took out one of the six packs in the case of cider as he helped me to the door. Lucy and Charlie danced around his legs. The minute we got to the porch, the door opened, both my parents looking on with far too much interest.
“Hello, Mr. Dalton.”
“Nice to see you, Tate. We were beginning to think you only knew our daughter these days.”
I winced.
“Sorry, I’ve been monopolizing her time, sir.”
“Well, c’mon in.” He opened the door wider.
I was about to take the bags off his hands, but he walked right in, dammit.
“Amber did some damage at the orchard.” He set down the bags on the kitchen island. “I’ll be right back, we have more in the truck.”
“Oh, I forgot about the food.” I smiled at my mom. “I got you some apples. I figured we could do some baking.”
“That sounds nice.”
Tate took off back outside. The distant sound of him wrestling with the dogs made me want to go join him. Anything but face the questions I knew they had for what was going on between us.
My mother crossed her arms and cocked her hip making my heart do a little skip. I hadn’t seen that look in a long time. Before the inquisition, I rushed back to the door to help him with the stack of baked goods and huge bag of apples we’d picked out.
“Tate, would you like some coffee?”
He smiled over my head at my mother. “That sounds great.”
I tamped down a growl and followed him to the kitchen island.
“How’s the village coming along?”
“Slowly.” Tate laughed. “But we’re getting there. I was hoping to get the artists set up the first week in November, but I think it’ll be closer to the middle of the month.”
“That’s perfect for most shopping. I’m looking forward to seeing who you have lined up.”
My mom and Tate talked about the local artisans. Being in Manhattan and Los Angeles, I was out of the loop. I unpacked the bags of food and put the cider in the fridge.
My dad was back in his chair in front of the television, the sound on low.
Unsure what to do with myself, I dug into the gift shop bags and started organizing the gifts I’d purchased. Some for my dancers, my manager, publicist, and the endless list of people who helped my career keep on turning.
I had a handful of people I called friends, and it felt like it was dwindling by the year. I’d lost touch with the musicians I came up with and I’d been too engrossed in my music to have tight friends from high school.
Tate’s hand landed on my shoulder. “I’m going to go.”
I turned and glanced at him. “Sorry. I was—”
He rubbed my arms in that way he did that made my whole system even out. “It’s been a long day. I get it.”
I could tell he wanted to kiss me, but that was a can of worms even he wouldn’t want to open up in front of my parents.
“Thanks, Tate.”
He nodded, seeming to understand. “I’ll see you.”
I smiled up at him. Something had shifted between us. Frustrated that I was the one who’d done it, I didn’t know how to unravel it. To let the moments from earlier curl back around us like that old cardigan he wore that made me crazy.
The smile back wasn’t the same as the one I saw this morning. Nor the one from the bookstore.
It was the safe one.
He dropped his touch and waved to my parents, then left.
I bowed my head. The prickle in my eyes didn’t make sense. It was just a bit of fun. All it should have been. All I’d done in the past, if I was honest. Julian had been one of the rare long term men I’d ever had in my life.
Most were a moment.
Just like what Tate and I were.
It was better that way.
I sat down at the kitchen island and pulled out the cards Laverne had supplied. My phone buzzed. I usually left it on silent, but I had a buzz notification when I got something from my manager.
Stevie:
It would just be an hour special. Then you’re off the hook. If you give them this, they’ll leave you alone longer.
An hour special wasn’t just an hour.
It was an entire production. It was rehearsals, it was choreography, it was invasion.
Bringing it to my hometown would bring so many people into the one place I could usually hide away in.
I flipped the phone over on the counter.
“What’s going on, honey?”
“It’s nothing.” I gave her a bright smile, then grabbed one of the jute baskets that held a bunch of blankets, dumped them on the couch, and loaded all the white boxes into it. “I’m just going to put these in the music room.”
I left the room before my mother could ask any more questions.
I closed the door on my music room. I’d soundproofed it a long time ago. I left the basket beside my piano and sat down on the bench.
When I was unsettled, the piano always helped.
I rested my fingers on the keys, the familiar worn marks eased the ache in my chest. It wasn’t a sweet or sad song inside of me.
It was a storm. The crash of chords of an old song that I rarely played flowed into something different.
Sometimes it was that way for me. A song flowed out of me and never returned.
The melody discordant and twisted as the emotions trapped in my chest.
When it was over, my chest was heaving and my fingers ached with it.
I dropped my head back and let out the breath that had been tamped down by the responsibilities always sitting on me like a boulder. To the record label. To the fans who would probably love a new Christmas special.
To the machine that never quite wanted to let me go, no matter how much rest I needed.
I closed the top of the keys and left behind the gifts. Instead of going in to talk to my parents, I ran upstairs to my room. Still too restless, I took a shower and tried to de-stress with a long skincare routine, but my mind kept spinning.
To the concert.
To the orchard.
To Tate.
I slammed the face roller into the pile of tools in my makeup bag.
I crawled into bed even though it was barely dinnertime. The shorter days made it easy to sink into the dark. To escape into sleep where there were no dreams.
Where there was no one expecting something from me.
Hunger dragged me out of sleep in the middle of the night. I snuck downstairs like when I’d been a teen. When the music had been so loud I couldn’t sleep through the night. The temptation to slip into my music room was heavy on my shoulders, but I followed my grumbling belly to the kitchen.
My mother, the angel she was, left a plate under foil. I picked at the cold pasta and checked my phone.
It was a little after two in the morning in New York, but Cindy was home in the Pacific Northwest. I tried a Facetime call to see if she’d pick up.
Her sweet, freckled face popped on my screen a second later.
Her kinky red hair was scraped into two space buns, and she was wearing one of her footie pajama onesies. This one was Eeyore with a hood.
“Hey. You’re alive.”
I climbed onto one of the kitchen stools and stabbed a ricotta and sauce laden ziti noodle. “Kind of.”
“You look a helluva lot better than the last time I saw you.”
I huffed out a laugh. “That bar was seriously low.”