Nashville 3 - What We Feel (8 page)

“I’m good,” I say, the question prodding me to slide out of the truck. I grab my guitar case from its spot between us. Thomas walks around, and I follow him to the door. He rings the bell.

The door swings open, and Beck says, “Y’all get in out of the rain.”

“Hey, man,” Thomas says, walking inside.

I walk in behind him and stick a hand out to Beck. “Hey. Good to see you again.”

“You too,” Beck says with what looks like a genuine smile. “Glad it worked out that you can hook up with us on the tour. Dad was psyched about it.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I really appreciate the chance to be here.” I want to be suspicious of his friendliness. I mean, why would he want me back here? If I were him, I wouldn’t let me within fifty miles of CeCe. But then, maybe he’s that confident of what they have going.

We follow him through the long hallway that I remember as leading to his dad’s studio. CeCe is already there, warming up when we walk in. I haven’t heard her sing since leaving here – correction – haven’t let myself hear her sing since leaving here. Her voice has taken on new dimension and power. She sounds amazing.

She smiles at Beck and Thomas but stops short of meeting eyes with me. “Y’all ready to do this thing?”

“Let’s jump on it,” Thomas says. “Should we go through a playlist first?”

“Sure,” Beck says.

“CeCe and I can highlight the songs we’ve been doing. Holden, you got any good new stuff?”

“I’ve got new stuff. Not sure if it’s any good or not.”

“Check the modesty,” Thomas says. “Ladies and gents, you’re looking at Hart Holcomb’s prediction for one of this town’s up and coming hit songwriters.”

Both Beck and CeCe glance at me with a look of surprise. It’s CeCe who speaks first.

“So it went well?”

“Yeah,” I say. “He’s an incredible singer.”

“Congratulations,” Beck says. “That’s big stuff. Sounds like you’ve impressed him. I’ve heard my dad say that’s not an easy thing to do.”

“I think I got a lucky break,” I say. “Right song. Right place.”

We all pull up a chair at the round table in one corner of the room. From there, we start talking about songs, compiling a list of the best we have and then working out the playlist.

Beck knows all of the songs CeCe and Thomas have been singing from having been at so many of their shows. They ask me to play some of my new stuff. I put my thoughts on the individual songs and try not to think about the fact that Beck has entwined his fingers with CeCe’s as if she’s just been taken under by an unexpected current and it is up to him to save her.

And I wonder if he’s that sure of her, after all.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CeCe

We spend the next five hours practicing song after song, perfecting some Thomas and I already know well and then working on several new ones Holden says he wrote over the past year.

The songs are really good, and I’m relieved to see that he has continued to write. Our upbeat songs outnumber the ballads six to one, and we all agree that as the opening act, we want to get the audience up and ready to have a good time.

At first, I’m so nervous that I forget lines to songs I know by heart. I actually feel every single time Holden glances at me, but I manage not to look back. I know it’s crazy. After all, how can I expect to get through an entire tour without looking at him? Whatever it is holding in place all of my determination to make this work feels about as fragile as baby grass under an April frost.

It’s almost ten when we call it a wrap. I’m as tired from the effort of smiling and trying to act normal as I am from the rehearsing.

Once we’ve packed up all our things, Beck says he’ll take me home.

“We’re headed back to the apartment, CeCe, if you want to ride with us,” Thomas offers.

I don’t want to but it would be a little silly for Beck to drive all the way into town just to drop me off. And since I’m too tired to do anything other than go to bed, going out isn’t an option. “Okay,” I say. “That will save you a trip, Beck.”

“I’m happy to take you.”

I hear the edge in his voice and know we will end up talking about things I don’t want to talk about right now. I take the coward’s way out. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me in the morning?”

“Sure.” He walks over to kiss me full on the mouth. He takes his time in a statement to Holden. I start to pull away, but force myself not to. Can I blame him for feeling insecure? Wouldn’t I, if the circumstances were reversed?

I wait for him to end the kiss and press my palm to his cheek. “Please tell your dad thank you for letting us rehearse here.”

“I will,” he says. “Goodnight.”

“’Night,” I say and follow Thomas and Holden from the room.

In the truck, I sit to the left of the middle so that my shoulder is touching Thomas’s, putting two inches of space between Holden and me.

“I thought it went great,” Thomas says as he pulls out of the long driveway onto the main road headed back to the city. “What did you two think?”

Neither of us answers for a few moments, both obviously waiting the other out. I give first.

“We’ve got some polishing to do, but I like where we’re going.”

“I agree,” Holden says, his gaze set outside the window.

“CeCe, I really like what you did with the bridge on that last song. That’s gonna get you a lot of fans, girl.”

“Thanks, Thomas,” I say, feeling a familiar tenderness toward him. If anyone in this world has my back now, it’s Thomas.

We talk about different issues we need to address with certain parts of the songs. It makes the drive go quickly and keeps me from focusing on how close I am to touching Holden.

At the apartment, I take Hank Junior for a walk and deliberately stay out long enough that I hope to avoid seeing Holden again tonight. Hank sniffs every tree we pass and protests my turning back toward home by locking his legs and giving me a visual declaration of his displeasure.

“Come on,” I say. “You’d stay out here all night if I let you.”

To make up for not letting him have his way, I give him a cookie when we get back inside. He wags his tail in forgiveness and licks my hand.

“I see he still knows how to work the system.”

I jump at the sound of Holden’s voice and turn to look at him with what I hope comes across as mild interest. “I try not to let him get too big a head.”

“Kind of a benevolent dictator, isn’t he?”

It pretty much nails Hank’s role in life, and I can’t stop myself from smiling. “Sadly, I don’t mind.”

“He has that effect, doesn’t he?”

I nod, making a pretense of wiping crumbs off the kitchen counter and putting the treat jar back in place. “Thomas already in bed?”

“Yeah. I think we wore him out.”

“Well,” I say, “I’m tired too. Goodnight, Holden.”

I start past him, Hank Junior at my heels. Holden reaches out and stops me with a hand on my arm. “CeCe?”

I stop, as if instantly frozen in place. I try to say something but my voice is locked in my throat.

“Can we talk for a minute?” he asks.

“About what?” I finally manage. “There isn’t anything-”

“Actually, there is.”

“Holden-”

“Please.”

I force myself to turn and face him then, saying nothing, waiting for him to go on.

“I want to say I’m sorry for everything that happened.”

His eyes are fully sincere and something in me gives a little. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” I say.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” And I really do. “We never should have…we were wrong to-”

“
I
was wrong to,” he finishes for me. “I wasn’t free to let myself have feelings for you.”

With those words, the urge to cry hits me so hard and so insistently that the tears are spilling from my eyes before I even try to hold them back. “Holden, don’t,” I say. “This is not a place either of us can afford to go.”

“I still need to say it.”

“Is that what’s most important then?” I ask on a flurry of anger. “What you need?”

He blinks once but not fast enough to hide the flash of hurt. “That’s not what I meant,” he says.

“Maybe not,” I say quickly. “What I need is to forget that we ever felt anything more than friendship for each other. That is the only way I can be on a stage with you every night for six weeks.”

I turn abruptly then and start out of the kitchen for my room. Holden reaches out and reels me back to him. I stop only after hitting the wall of his chest.

I look up at him just as outrage surges through me. “Don’t. Touch. Me. Holden.”

But he doesn’t remove his hand from my arm. With his gaze locked on mine, he gently pulls me forward until I am fully encircled in his embrace. I hold myself as if I have been cast in ice.

We stand that way for countless seconds. The refrigerator hums. The air conditioning kicks on. A cat meows somewhere outside and Hank Junior pads over to the window to investigate.

And then, slowly, slowly, Holden eases me in, folding me into the circle of his arms until I just melt against him.

Everything inside of me goes liquid and warm. I close my eyes and yield to the irresistible need to breathe him in, to let myself remember how I feel magnetized next to him. Completely unable to resist the pull between us.

I want to protest. My brain is telling me to protest. But my body isn’t listening.

Instead, I let my arms wrap him up and I press my face to his chest. His warm, hard chest. Time falls away. I don’t let myself think of anything except what is here, what is now.

He puts his cheek against my hair, and I feel him sigh, a release of breath, as if he, too, has been holding it since the last time we were in each other’s arms like this.

We stay this way for a very long while. I can feel the pain and hurt of these past eighteen months absorb into the air around us and fade to acceptance.

“What was it like?” I ask, my voice little more than a whisper.

“What?” he answers, the question rough at the edges.

“Seeing her go through all of that.”

“Terrifying.” He’s quiet for several moments and then, “I never imagined so many people having their lives destroyed by that awful disease. Going with her to the treatments, seeing others who were even sicker than she was… some days, I didn’t think I could go back.”

“It must have been hard,” I say softly.

“Seeing the hope and courage of those people, and how fragile it all is, I swear, sometimes I wanted to change places with them just so their hopes weren’t for nothing.”

Tears fill my eyes. I bite my lower lip before saying, “I’m sorry.”

“I saw things that made me realize what I take for granted in my life. Little kids who’d lost all their hair, who couldn’t eat. And their parents, trying to act if everything would be all right.”

He stops there, and I can feel his grief like a wall that is crumbling inside him. I tighten my arms around his waist and hold onto him as if I am the only thing that will keep him from collapsing under its weight.

I’m not sure how much time passes with the two of us standing here, holding each other. I wish that we never had to move, that we could stay like this forever.

But I know we can’t; there are people in our lives who have not asked to be hurt by us. I ease away from him, looking up into his eyes. “Sarah. She’s going to be okay?”

“I think so,” Holden says. “The doctors have said she’s clear, and she works at the nutrition end of it. Really at doing anything she can to stay healthy.”

“I’m glad,” I say, and with this picture of her, I step back, loosen my hold on him. “Will she… is she planning to move here?”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments and I start to wonder if I’ve asked more than I should have.

“No,” he says then. “Sarah and I, we’re not going to be together.”

The admission takes me by such surprise that I am sure I must have misheard him. “Oh. I thought…what?”

“We’re not.”

“But why?”

He looks away and then back at me. “Maybe she saw us through new eyes and didn’t like what was there.”

I don’t know what to say so I don’t say anything.

“There was something else,” he adds. “She met someone who might have made her realize what she did want.”

“Holden. I…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m pretty sure she’s going to be happy. That’s what matters.”

I take in the words with a feeling of disbelief. And all of a sudden, I feel the dissolving of a barrier between us. With it comes an awkwardness I have no idea what to do with. “I don’t know what to say, Holden.”

“You don’t have to say anything, CeCe. You’ve moved on. I get it. I understand. And I’m not here to mess up things with you and Beck.”

I know I should feel relieved. Because he’s right. I have moved on. It took a long time but I’ve moved on. And now someone else’s heart is involved.
Beck’s
heart is involved.
My
heart is involved.

There’s no unraveling all of that. Even if I wanted to.

“I’m sorry, Holden. For everything you’ve been through. For-”

He places a fingertip against my lips and says, “Shh. It’s okay. We’ll be okay. All of us.”