Matched, p.21
Matched, page 21
“I was so wrong, Will.”
“I hid away for a few weeks, writing songs.” His words were getting softer, sadder. “Aunt Jessie made me eat. Mari Belle called from school four times a day, even if I didn’t talk to her. Sacha kept telling me she was having visions that I’d have a good life, that I’d get what I needed, that I was perfect the way I was. Mikey tried to help me write some songs, but I was crazy. Knew what I wanted to say, didn’t want anybody else to help.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. It was woefully inadequate, but it was what she had.
He ducked his head. “That first week after, I knew what my momma was feeling, being so crazy wrapped up in someone. Won’t lie—I had some moments of feeling like my life was over. But the more I wrote, the better I felt. Still couldn’t stop writing though. Needed to write. Needed to play. Needed to believe in myself the way I thought you did for those few days.”
She didn’t know if her shivers were coming from hurting him or from the cold, but she couldn’t stop. And she didn’t want to go inside. She didn’t want to be warm.
She wanted to be right again. Whole. Not sorry anymore.
“Wasn’t all you,” he said. “I let ’em think it was, some days because I missed you, some days because I hated you, but some of it was me looking for where I fit. Killing the doubts. Aunt Jessie, Mari Belle, they didn’t want me to go after my dreams. They didn’t want me disappointed when I didn’t make it.”
“You were all alone.”
“I wasn’t, but I was. They loved me. But they didn’t know how to make me feel invincible. Not like you did. Sacha told me to go for it, but even when she had her visions, I didn’t believe her the way I believed you. She didn’t say anything about my dreams until after you did.”
“Will, we had less than a week—”
“Lightning strikes in a millisecond, changes the world forever.”
No. People didn’t change other people like that. They couldn’t. “How long did you write?”
He rubbed a hand through his hair, then down his whiskers. “A month. Maybe longer. One day, I ran out of songs to write. Guess I used up everything I had bottled up all my life. So I went back out in the world, found songs in more places, about more things. Kept building that catalog like you told me to. Told Mikey I was going to Nashville. They all thought I’d lost my mind. They didn’t see me like you saw me. Back home, in school, I was always Mari Belle’s dumb kid brother, not a guy who could be somebody. I kinda thought I’d lost my mind too, but you—you saw me different. You showed me that I could see me different. I held on to that. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I always hoped you still believed in me too.”
“I used to wonder if you were selling tires or still sweeping floors.”
“My two backup plans,” he said.
It should’ve been funny, but it wasn’t. “I didn’t know you made it until you walked into Nat’s wedding. I felt like such a fool. And now, Mari Belle, Mikey, your aunt—they’re right, Will. You should walk away.”
His steady gaze didn’t waver. “Why?”
“Because you built this. This big life, the dreams, the superstardom. You did. This is yours, and you need to keep it. I always thought you’d still be in Pickleberry Springs, raising a bunch of kids with a sweet woman who liked to listen to you play with your band at the local hole-in-the-wall.”
“Wouldn’t have been a bad life.”
“But you are Billy Brenton. You can say you’re a simple country boy with a guitar, but that’s what makes you a superstar. You. All of you. You’re a gift to the world, and I can’t be a part of that world.”
He tugged at his shirt, a familiar gesture she’d come to understand meant he was reaching for his guitar. “Why?”
“Because I’m a mess. Because you make me a mess. And you have too many people who need you for me to make you a mess again.” She pointed between them. “We’re toxic, Will. We screw with each other’s heads, we—”
“I wrote Hitched about you. Not just ‘Snow Angel Smiles.’ The whole album. It went platinum in a month. Set all kinds of records. Won some big awards. It’s been out a year, and I still get over a hundred emails a week from people who say one song or another on it touched their life. That ain’t toxic, Lindsey. That’s goodness out in the world.”
That wasn’t her. It wasn’t them. “It’s been years—”
“And you stuck.” He tapped his heart. “You stuck here. For years.”
“That was you. Your songs. Not my influence. It’s all you.”
“It was you.” He pulled out his wallet and shuffled through it, then held out a folded paper. “You know why I went to Nashville?”
She eyed his offering then took and gingerly opened it. The creases were so worn, the paper so soft, the ink so faded, the words inside were barely legible.
“Step one,” he said. “Write a bunch of great songs.”
Her breath caught.
“Step two,” he continued. “Take them to Nashville. Clean toilets until someone recognizes your genius.”
“You kept this?” she whispered.
“Step three.” His hands settled at her waist. “Show them you can play and sing too.”
“Step four, take over the world.” She dropped her head to his shoulder, still clutching the paper.
“You drove me to Nashville,” he said into her hair. “Without you, Billy Brenton wouldn’t exist. You did that. You were my inspiration. Still are. After Hitched, I couldn’t write. Here, I can’t stop.”
“It’s not me.”
“It’s you. It’s always been you.” His scruffy cheek brushed hers. “Come inside,” he murmured, his breath hot on her ear. “Let me show you.”
She clutched him and buried her nose in his neck. I love you. She always had. Stay. Forever.
Here.
With her.
“Will, I can not give you more than another thirteen days. I shouldn’t even give you thirteen more minutes.”
“Deal’s a deal, lawyer lady. And since you’re dumping me again, I have to get a lifetime’s worth of songs out of the next thirteen days.”
“Will—”
“Aunt Jessie, Mari Belle, Mikey, they’re all wrong. You didn’t break me. You showed me who I am. Who I could be.” He brushed a thumb over her cheek. Snowflakes settled in his lashes and his whiskers. “About time I return that favor.”
And like that, she surrendered. “Okay,” she whispered.
He pulled her inside, then shut and locked the door. He lowered the lights, then lowered her to the sunroom couch, then lowered his mouth to hers, and he loved her.
He loved her like he couldn’t live without her. He loved her like he knew her better than she knew herself. He loved her like they truly could have their forever.
And for one night, she let herself indulge in the fantasy too.
WILL HAD TWELVE days to break through Lindsey’s barriers, and he didn’t plan to waste a single minute.
He knew he’d most likely fail—she had given Wrigley an extra-long hug on her way out the door to work this morning—but he also knew the lady saw something when she looked at him. The same kind of something she saw when she’d looked at Mikey and Dahlia.
He even had a good grip on her objections to him. To them. She didn’t like crowded spaces, and his life as Billy was one crowd after another. She liked her privacy, and he lived life in public. She knew his family didn’t like her, and she’d had enough of not being liked for one lifetime.
He could solve all of her problems one way or another. Tonight, he was starting on that last one. Suckers wasn’t too crowded on a Tuesday night. Sure, there were a few fans asking for autographs and pictures, but not like there had been at first. The town had gotten used to him, and they were pretty darn good at giving him space.
Mikey and Dahlia were with them. His buddy had made up right good with his girl this morning, right there in Lindsey’s house while Will had to listen. And he’d heard things he didn’t want to in the process, so Will made Mikey promise to come out and give Lindsey a real shot.
And because Dahlia was as good for Mikey as her ice cream was sweet and perfect, when she agreed with Will, big ol’ tough Mikey had agreed with a goofy grin on his face.
He was even behaving himself tonight, making a real effort and everything, including Lindsey when he told stories. “Hey, Billy, you remember that time Saffron switched all the toothpaste in the band bus with diaper cream?”
“Oh, gross,” Dahlia said.
Lindsey grimaced over her wine.
“Remember all y’all hollering about it.” Will remembered discovering the prank the hard way on his own bus too.
“I don’t understand that,” Dahlia said. “Don’t you look at the toothpaste tube before you put it on your toothbrush?”
“You do when you’re at my house,” CJ said from behind the bar.
“Your wife know that?” Mikey asked.
He grinned. “Nah, I’ll let her figure that out on her own when the time’s right.”
Lindsey’s gaze was stuck on something across the room. Will followed it, and discovered she was watching a preppy guy and a bookish-looking girl. The dude was trying hard to get the lady’s attention. And by the soft smile on Lindsey’s face, and by the shivers on Will’s neck, he was betting the dude had a good chance. “Playing matchmaker?” he murmured to her.
She started. “Just watching.”
“Good match?”
She frowned briefly, then turned to him with mixed messages shooting out her pores. “They’re not bad.” She shrugged, but it wasn’t a casual shrug. It was a stepping-out-of-the-comfort-zone shrug.
Will watched the lady shake her head at the guy, then slide off her stool and gather her coat.
Lindsey didn’t move.
Will nudged her. “You should say something.”
She slid a glance at him. “I don’t know them.”
“But they’re a good match.”
“No, they’re not bad. There’s a difference.”
Mikey and Dahlia were sitting there, happy as lovebugs in spring. And Lindsey was the only one who saw that coming. Will nodded toward them. “Pretty sure you’re better at this good match stuff than you give yourself credit for.”
“Nice try. I don’t know them, but I’m well-known around here. They’ll think I’m trolling for clients.”
“Or she might think twice about leaving.”
“If it’s meant to be, they’ll find each other again.” She turned her attention to her wine.
“Hey, Billy, tell Dahlia she needs to come see the show at Gellings,” Mikey said.
Will absently nodded at Dahlia, even though he was tracking the other girl’s path toward the door. “You should come. Be a good time.”
“We still got VIP tickets?” Mikey asked.
“Think so. Call Cassidy.”
Will could stop the girl. But she hadn’t made any sign she recognized him, which put him in a worse spot than it put Lindsey. Because a guy setting up another guy—especially one he didn’t know—was about the same as a divorce lawyer playing matchmaker. Awkward, unexpected, and more than a little uncomfortable.
He could see Lindsey’s problem here.
“I can’t take time away from The Milked Duck,” Dahlia said.
“Sweet pea, time off’s necessary for your creativity,” Mikey declared. “Can’t keep making perfect ice cream without new inspirations. Ain’t that right, Billy?”
Will spun on his stool. He was fixin’ to stop the girl walking out, because somebody had to.
His reputation could take the hit. If it helped show Lindsey that she needed confidence in the good as well as the bad of what she saw, then it was what he’d do.
But the door swung open, and a mess of chaos walked in the door.
Kimmie balanced two boxes in her mittened hands. Her gait was clipped and dread dragged her lips into a frown that set Will’s shoulders to hunching.
“Sorry we’re late,” she said. “Mom had to mash someone’s potatoes, and then the cupcakes fell over in the car.”
The girl Lindsey had been watching slipped out the door. Kimmie slid the boxes between Will and Mikey, and she popped the lid open on the top one. “Sorry about your face,” she said to Mikey.
Dahlia squealed and clapped her hands. Mikey’s jaw came unhinged. And Lindsey laughed the sweetest peal of laughter Will had ever heard.
A dozen cupcakes were in the box, all decorated with a remarkable likeness of Mikey and his bald head. Except for the smushed-up part on some of them.
“Darlin’, those are perfect.” Will pulled out his phone to snap a picture. He let go of his own plans of matchmaking, saying a prayer Lindsey was right and her good match would make it work for themselves. “Mikey’s momma’s gonna be right proud.”
“I had a dream you had a psychic mongoose who could control the weather, but then it started raining turtle shells, and the ninjas knew if they could get the mongoose to eat bacon, it would snow fairy dust instead.”
“Kimmie.” Lindsey smiled. “Will’s a friend.”
She emphasized the Will and the friend part, and he had a moment of thinking she was still doing him the bigger favors in their relationship. Wasn’t often he got to be him out in public.
Kimmie swiped at a curly blonde flyaway and shoved it behind her ear. “He’s still smokin’ hot, and I’m not convinced my mother hasn’t made a voodoo Lindsey cake to destroy your chances so she can set me up instead.”
Lindsey squeezed Will’s thigh with her free hand, which he took to mean don’t treat her like a weirdo. “He is hot,” Lindsey agreed, “and he’s also a friend, and we’ll take care of your mother.”
Kimmie glanced around the room, her gaze lingering on a table of men who played baseball for the Bliss Bachelors, the local minor league team. “Actually,” she started.
“Aw, shit,” CJ said.
Kimmie winced so hard Will thought even her hot pink shirt got in on the wincing.
Marilyn marched through the door, Lindsey’s dad on her heels.
“Yeah,” Kimmie said quickly. “Sorry. I tried to text you, but she had her cell-signal blocker on.”
“She has one of those?” CJ said.
“She channels it naturally when she’s displeased.”
Kimmie shot another look at the table of men.
“They’re all terrible matches for you,” Lindsey said.
Kimmie blew out a breath and flashed a pained smile. “Thanks.”
Marilyn descended on them. “Billy. So lovely to see you again.” She did a fancy-lady air-kiss to his cheeks, then grimaced at Mikey. “And…you too. Lindsey, Dahlia. You’re entertaining our guests?”
“Best hospitality I ever had,” Mikey said.
“That’s because you’re getting laid again,” Dahlia said. “But I’m warning you, it better not get all same-old, same-old, now that you’re serious about me.”
Marilyn made a strangled noise. Will choked on his own spit. Lindsey’s shoulders shook with soft laughter. “I like her.” She raised her glass to Mikey. “Well done.”
Mikey stood and grabbed Dahlia by the hand. “I’ll show you same old, woman.”
“Not in my bathroom,” CJ said. “Take it out back.”
“Screw out back. I’m renting us an airplane. You’re about to join the Mile High Club, sweet pea.”
“I don’t know if you should aim so high to start,” Dahlia said. “You can only go down from there.” But she still finger-waved to the group. “Kimmie, I’ll call you later. Lindsey, I’ll make him say five nice things about you before I put out.” She grabbed the top box. “Can we take these cupcakes? Thanks so much!” And the two of them danced out the door.
“This is why I never enter this establishment,” Marilyn said.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s the only reason,” Lindsey replied.
Her dad slid a behave look in her direction, but Will grinned.
That was his girl. Cheeky and spunky and bright.
“Whiskey, Arthur?” CJ said.
The older man shuddered like he’d never met a whiskey he liked. “A coke. And I’m getting Noah a drum set for his birthday.”
“Go great with the three sets my sisters already sent him.”
“Pretty sure we’re trumped for life, Dad.” Lindsey patted the stool on her other side. “Might want to rethink that whiskey.”
“No whiskey,” Arthur reiterated.
“You sure?” CJ said. “Marilyn’s buying.”
“She’s not allowed inside unless she buys a round,” Lindsey murmured to Will. “I made her sign a contract.”
Will got the feeling there was more to that story, but he didn’t ask. Instead, he smooched her cheek, right in front of her father and the crazy cake lady and everyone in the bar. “A woman of many talents. I like it.”
“Cupcakes, Billy?” Marilyn said. “Lindsey tells us you like peach cobbler, so Kimberly created these for you.”
“I had a dream that coconut dinosaurs could play harmonicas made of fire icicles,” Kimmie said.
Will looked between mother and daughter.
“No, she’s not adopted,” Lindsey said.
“You get used to it, man,” CJ said to Will. “Life in Bliss.” He turned and rang a bell. “Round on the QG,” he called.
A halfhearted cheer went up in the joint, most of it from a guy deep in his cups at the far end of the bar. Three tables cleared out, their occupants dropping cash on their tables and darting for the door. CJ muttered something and left to take care of the baseball players and the few others who stayed.
If Marilyn noticed, she didn’t give any indication. She simply smiled brighter—and scarier—at Will. “Did Lindsey mention she’ll be judging the Battle of the Boyfriends alongside you?”
“Marilyn…” Arthur said.
“Think she mentioned she’s washing her hair that night,” Will said.
Lindsey squeezed Will’s leg again. And he was near about certain that one was a thank you. “How’s the cabin this week?” she asked her dad.
“Peaceful. Quiet.” Arthur eyed Will. “Should come on out this spring if you’re still around. Have a man weekend. CJ, you’ll bring Noah?”
