Finding the Dream (For the Love of Music #1.5) (11 page)

“Yeah. Thanks,” he said dryly.

“And told you that part of me was going on the offense, because you don’t have the best track record with girls.”

He shrugged. He didn’t
use
anyone, but he’d never managed to stay in a relationship for very long either. Was it him? Them? Or did he just know when it wasn’t
it
?”

She laughed a little. “But if I had come to you, we would have worked through it together. And the only consolation I get for us being apart now is knowing that we didn’t do that, and someday I’ll find someone I’m ready to be honest with. And… I’m slowly learning that if you want something real, you have to be honest. In everything.”

He shoved his palms into his eyes in frustration. “Maybe.”

“No maybes,” she sang as she left him alone again.

Honesty.

That was going to take him some time. And he had to figure out what he could even say that would be his truth. Maybe it’s that he still didn’t know what his truth was.

The ache in Sierra’s gut was so tight, it was hard to breathe.

One short text from Van saying:
I have a lot to explain to you. See you at dinnerish time. But late dinnerish time.

She had no idea what “dinnerish” time meant to Van, much less “late” dinnerish time
.

Part of her wanted to make another big meal, but the thought of cramming something into her muffin-stuffed stomach wasn’t appealing. Also, Donovan didn’t really deserve any kind of big meal after that morning.

She absently flipped through Pinterest and the room slowly grew darker with the lessening light. She second-guessed her decision to be in her comfortable clothes instead of another dress. Got angry with herself for worrying about when Van would come.

She wanted to jump out of her own skin.

She flipped through the recipes in her iPad again as she blew the hair off her face.
And then flipped over to her messages, wondering if he’d sent her anything new.

Hovering over the message button, she almost sent Donovan a text, but stopped. She didn’t want to seem too eager, or needy or…young...
And the
last
thing she needed was to be rejected. Again.

Screw this. She stood up and grabbed another chocolate muffin, warming it in the microwave and adding some caramel sauce to the top. It went against everything she’d learned about how to take care of her body, but when a girl finally gets to sleep with the guy she’s always wanted to have sex with, and he tells her he needs space, there’s some wiggle room in the diet plan.

She pinched off a small piece of muffin and placed it in her mouth.

“Mmmmm,” she moaned, letting her eyes fall closed just as the door clicked open.

“You don’t even need me,” Van teased, and then froze, his face tight. “Maybe that was totally… That was totally not the right thing to say in this situation.”

Sierra snorted, relief tingling through her. “No. It was perfect.” That one comment, turned them back into the old Donovan and Sierra—or at least got them closer.

He rubbed his forehead. “Let’s sit.”

She didn’t want to sit. She didn’t want to talk. She wanted another night with him like the one they had in his drunken stupor. Only without him being drunk.
She set down her muffin.

Donovan looked more sad and confused than she’d ever seen him. She for sure didn’t want to know what he was going to say.

Sierra followed, and the mood changed. Less… Maybe less the old Sierra and Donovan and something new. Different. Adult. Only she had no idea if it would end up with them together, or her feeling totally humiliated and working as hard to avoid him as he’d worked avoiding her.

Donovan sat sideways and leaned his head against the back of the couch, facing her.

Sierra sat and did the same, holding her breath.

“Don’t for one second think I don’t like you.”

Tears pressed against the back of her eyes. This was it. The let down. Why couldn’t she just go back and change last night? She could have stopped it with a kiss. She would have kept that kiss, and this wouldn't be happening because a kiss is just a kiss, but naked and… That was just a lot more to be turned down for, or from, or because of...

His thumb gently pressed against the corner of her eye.

“Your brother has been my best friend since I was ten.”

Sierra released a breath, much more ready to hear about Donovan and Hanson than whatever Van had to say about her.

“There’s an understanding between guys about their sisters. You know that?”

“Man code or something?” she asked.

Donovan shrugged. “It’s not just that. Your family… Your family saved me, Sierra.
Saved
me.”

“You were always around anyway. When your parents died, it just felt… It didn’t even feel that different.” She couldn’t understand what he was trying to say.

Donovan sat stunned with her words. Didn’t feel that different? It had changed his life forever. Made him the guy he was instead of the guy his dad was—at
least most of the time.

“Do you know why I lived with you?” he asked.

Her eyes shifted enough that he knew she wasn’t certain. “Your parents died, and you didn’t want to change schools.”

He swallowed. She’d gotten the child’s version of the story because she was a child when he moved in.

“My dad burned down the house with them in it
on purpose
. He’d left us. Years ago. Came back and tried to take over. Mom was so happy he’d come home that she put up with him. With the mood swings. The yelling. What turned into more than yelling… He put me in the hospital once. Broke my arm.”

Sierra was blinking again. Fighting to hold back tears. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Van took her hand. “It was humiliating to have an aunt and two uncles, all of whom said it wasn’t good timing for me to live with them. Especially after covering for my dad again and again and again because he didn’t love us enough to even be
nice
. He was so selfish that when he wanted to die, he took my mom with him. And then your parents just… I was at your house for dinner and they said I should crash with them.”

“I remember that.” Sierra let out a small breath. One he’d seen her do so many times before. During movies. While talking with her parents. Anytime she was in deep concentration.

In that second he could see it. He could see past her feeling sometimes like his little sister, and to the woman she was, but… Too many barriers. Boundaries. Things to sort out in his head.

“Your dad picked me up from school the next day and said he’d love it if I stayed with your family. Not just… I can take you in, but I’d
love it if you’d stay.
”

Donovan felt his façade cracking with the deeper his admission felt. “And… And there’s something about that… I’m just… Right now I feel like we…what we did…last night…” He
paused.
“It still feels like your dad walked in on us. At least to me. That’s my problem. Not yours…” He let out a breath. “Dammit. This is hard. I’m trying to be honest.”

“I took advantage of you.”

Donovan sat back. “What? No. You did not—”

“You were drunk. I pushed.”

He let out another slow breath. “I got myself drunk thinking about
you
. And I came home wanting you, and I pushed.”

“Then I guess we’re both at fault?” she asked as she wrung her hands.

Were they? “No.” He waved his hands between them. “No. No one’s at
fault
. It wasn’t a bad thing. It was
such
a good thing.” He winced. “I maybe shouldn’t say that either. I just…”

“What
are
you trying to say?”

“I’m trying to tell you why I feel this loyalty to your parents and to your brother. You understand that a little better, yeah?” he asked.

Sierra nodded.

“I guess it’s that if you and I were to start something…
more
… It shouldn’t happen the way it did. For me, it seems like I should ask your dad permission to take you out to dinner as something more than a friend, you know?”

A corner of her mouth twitched in an uncertain smile. “So, are you for us? Against?”

He didn’t know. He pushed his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. That’s why I said I needed some space. I don’t
know
. And then Alyson said I really needed to be honest, so here I am…being honest and making an idiot out of myself in the process.”

“You’re not an idiot.” She paused but didn’t move. “I’ve been afraid for a long time that you’d always see me as the little sister.”

He slid his finger down her cheek, following the line of her jawbone toward her ear and down her neck.

She shivered under his touch, and he knew that he’d never look at her as a little sister again. And he was definitely
for
them… He just… He just had to wrap his head around the idea. Around the idea that it might be okay to like her. That he wouldn’t be betraying people he cared about for someone else he cared about.
That it wouldn't be one more thing on a list of reasons he might be like his dad.

“No.” He shook his head. “I just want to be slow. Careful. And more than anything, I want you to be out here having a college experience for
you.
Go out. Have fun. Do things that are solely for you and have nothing to do with me. I don’t want to ever feel like they way either of us feels for the other is going to hold you back. Okay?”

“I’m being treated like a kid again.”

He shook his head. “No. I hope not. You’re amazing, Sierra. Really. Truly. Amazing.”

She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his cheek. “I’m really sorry about your parents.” Her voice wobbled a little, but there was a strength to it as well. The same strength that reflected in so many things she did. “You know mine. I can’t really understand, but thank you for sharing and know that I’m trying to and that I want to, and that I think you’re amazing and even more awesome after knowing where you came from.”

Did she know what she was talking about?

“It’s taken me a long time to come terms with them. That situation. When the big “everything” happens for me, I’m going to do it right.”

It was as if they had both laid themselves out for the other to see and were now testing the waters.

“You were beautiful before, you know,” he said. “Before you tamed the hair and lost the weight. It’s your soul that makes you beautiful, Sierra. Never think you have to
try
to be beautiful because you are and you always will be.”

She blinked back tears again as she rested against the counter and nodded. He watched her swallow and realized that he knew exactly how she felt. Not just because he recognized the signs, but because he
knew
her. And that wasn’t something he was going to let go. He just had a lot to sort out first.

Thirteen

Donovan left Sierra a note on the kitchen table. More personal than a text, but gave him the space he needed. Not space, really.
Time
. In that moment, he wanted to do whatever it took to move forward, but was that a ‘now’ thing and nothing more? He didn’t know what else to tell Sierra until he had his own head sorted. She wasn’t someone he could
say
he wanted to move forward with and then back out when he realized it wasn’t a good idea—too much history, and he cared about her too much.

Pushing out the door, he only knew the place, not the why.

Deciding at the last minute to leave the bike behind and take the camper van, Donovan hit the highway. This way he could camp in his van if he felt like it, giving him a little more freedom on his break. Alyson was in charge at the shop, and the two newer employees seemed to be working out well—always at the beginning of the school year when they still had energy. By the time spring finals came around, they’d be useless.

He set his phone on the passenger’s seat with the ringer turned up in case he was needed and drove. He wasn’t used to feeling so…
full.
It was like his chest had filled with thick liquid, hot and heavy.

After driving in silence for over an hour, he flicked on the radio instead of his iPod and took the exit to take him to the coast.

“…new one from Christian Meyer’s solo album. The first single to be released…”

Right. The guy with lickable abs according to Sierra. And that one connection to her brought up image after image of her. The apartment that looked more like a home than an apartment every day. That smelled like real food was cooked there because it was.

Maybe some of his hesitation was that he could see how fast he could fall for her. No. It was her dad. How could Donovan sit in the same room with that man after having sex with his daughter? They’d all gotten a million sex lectures with Sierra’s dad’s job. How would her father look at him if he knew?

He turned up the radio. “…
make the best of me, come set me free...”
A long enough pause that Donovan had to take a breath. “…
only a woman…only you… my sa-aving…grace…”

Huh. Christian Meyer had softened way up, but it was cool. Sort of a blues kind of acoustic.

Words and rhythm and chord changes began to form in Donovan’s mind and he flicked the music back off before something tainted what he felt. Heard in his head. Thirty more minutes and he’d be there. Could pull over and play and sort out the chord progressions and lyrics on paper.

The second he put his van in park in a camping space near the coast, he leapt in the back and pulled the little camp guitar out from underneath the bed. His fingers moved over the strings and he adjusted until he was tuned. Drop D tuning for this one. And for the first time in longer than he could remember, he connected with every note.

That’s the moment he knew he’d put every spare minute into getting his set ready for the gig at Solomon’s.

Sierra stared at her screen. Almost a thousand more followers
overnight
. So many people had blogs like hers! What made her different? Someone must have featured her somewhere.

Her heart thrummed as she skimmed over new profiles of new faces, and her email inbox held a few more offers of free products for her to try and a few new ads that would bring in a bit more cash from her blog. At some point she’d need to Google herself to see what new thing had brought people to her blog.

Donovan’s video was nearing
six figures
of likes and shares. A random song of his he’d played at a random pub near a small university in Oregon. The Internet was amazing. And apparently had brilliant taste. She beamed despite the odd weight in her chest. That horrid uncertainty about Donovan and what he was thinking.

Nope.

She could not go down that road. She was fine. She was going to be fine no matter what happened between them.

It would just really, really suck if she didn’t get him the way she wanted.

“Okay, Sierra. Find a project. Now. Go.” She stood up looking through her cabinet and found a perfect natural linen.

“Okay, again…” She tapped her foot. “With some bright thread…”

And it hit her in a rush—
How to turn boring fabric into something fun!
(curtains)

The project was all she needed. Did she wish that her and Donovan were snuggled together on the couch? Yep. But the room was in desperate need of curtains, and she was in desperate need of distraction. Perfect.

Pulling out of the campground the next day, Donovan was still alone, and still felt mixed.

Donovan had played half the night in his van, feeling the music like he hadn’t since… Maybe since opening the store. Since realizing that if he wanted to be able to have a family and settle in that he needed to grow up. He loved the store. He owed Hanson his life. He loved him like a brother. Donovan’s life had fallen into place, but he’d lost something in the shuffle of the last two years that he was desperate to get back.

Driving to the small house he grew up in probably wasn’t the best way to help him feel settled, but the last time he’d felt this way, it was connected to that house.
Maybe the charcoaled walls would all be down now. It had been years. Close to ten. Maybe someone else had braved that long driveway and built their own house.

He missed Sierra.

She was a stupid thing to miss since he felt more every minute that she was the reason for him feeling this way. At the same time, part of him imagined telling her everything. Her resting against him and him finally talking about being scared to go home after school. How some days the driveway was torturously long because he knew his dad was home. Some days it was long because he knew the small home would be empty for hours until his mom got off work.

Maybe Sierra would walk that driveway with him at some point.

Maybe she’d understand how torn he felt between the store and the music that he loved. Maybe they’d share those things. Because he wanted to learn more about why she wrote a book. What it was about. What she really wanted from her life.

Goose bumps broke out across his skin as he thought about what that meant. How had she come into his life again such a short time ago and turned everything upside down?

He didn’t stop for gas. Didn’t stop for food. Just drove over three hours of green Oregon countryside. His heart thundered in his ears as he took the exit for Riverside, knowing his old driveway was so incredibly close.

The narrow driveway was overgrown with weeds and came up far too fast. He pulled his van into the thick trees and stopped. The seat next to him felt empty. It had never felt empty before.

No way was he going to wait until he could come with Sierra. It might never happen. He had to go. Shoving open the door, Donovan stepped into the rain and was eleven years old again.

He followed one of the old wheel ruts, the weeds nearly reaching his knees. When he was eleven, his dad had just come back. The elation he’d felt was something he’d never been able to describe, and the disappointment had stung even further.

The driveway wasn’t long enough.

The tree that used to hold swing still stood, but there was no sign of the swing. Everything was smaller but more filled in and green than it had ever looked when he lived there.

Donovan’s foot ran into a board and ice moved up his leg. He was standing on the edge of where his house used to be. Where his dad killed his mom. Where his dad died. Where both of them probably had ashes that had blended into the ground.

Experiences like this never really left a person. And the truth was that he’d never fully shared his experience—even with the therapist that Hanson’s parents had gotten him.

Would he ever?

He tapped the phone in his pocket, but left it in place. Donovan walked into where the house used to be, his boots crunching on the burnt timbers. His heart pounded, and the thick, burning liquid that had taken residence in his chest felt as if it were hardening.

Donovan gasped for air as tears burned on the rim of his eyes and started for the car. This had been a very stupid idea.

He wanted to write Sierra a note. Anything. Just to tell her he was thinking about her, but he couldn’t risk her reading too much into anything until he had a chance to talk to her parents.

And that was the next step. One he was sure he’d manage to screw up in a big way after the stupid decision to come to this horrible place.

Sierra stared at her inbox, mouth agape.

An agent hadn’t said no.

Dear Ms. Sierra Blades,

While I find your book fun and refreshing, I’m not sure there’s enough to make KISSING LACEY stand out in a market so flooded with contemporary love stories. However, your writing voice is unique so I spent some time looking you up online, and you can imagine my surprise when I realized you run the blog that my nieces talk about incessantly as they’re both early twenties—one in college, one just graduated.

I wondered if you’d ever given any thought to writing non-fiction in that quirky voice of yours? If you’re interested, I’d love to see a few ideas with outlines, I’ll attach an example to this email, and I look forward to hearing from you,

Helen Boswell

Helen Boswell! She’d been one of Sierra’s top picks from the beginning!

But non-fiction? That’s what Sierra did on her blog. Would people actually pay money for something they could basically get for free online?

She spit out an email back to her that was hopefully coherent and said something about working on it…

Sierra jumped up from her favorite chair to tell Donovan, and paused when she remembered he was still gone.

He wasn’t there, but Lindsey should be her first choice anyway. Sierra sent her friend a text, unsure if Lindsey would be in classes.

The second you have a moment, call me.

She had other emails to answer. And Facebook statuses saved up to post. And blog posts to edit and publish. Instead she sat down at her computer and pulled up the example Ms. Bosworth had sent to her and hoped her brain would jump into the process so she could get some ideas sketched out.

Her life had just taken a crazy, unexpected turn in a good direction, and she wanted to breathe in and soak up every moment.