Page 48 of August Lane

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

L uke stayed late to help Silas close Delta Blue after open mic night, so he was surprised to see August’s car when he returned to Birdie’s house.

It was nearly two in the morning. The lights were on and music greeted him when he walked inside.

She sat on the couch, reading the album sleeve for Color Me Country .

Linda Martell’s cover of “I Almost Called Your Name” flowed from the speakers.

“I blame her,” August said. She moved to the record player and stopped the music. “Linda was the reason Jojo became a country singer, even though everyone kept telling her not to.” She glanced at Luke. “Have you ever heard of her?”

“Of course.” Luke picked up the album and flipped it over to study the track list. “Is this an original copy?”

“Silas gave it to me.” She looked at an open box of albums near the record player. “These are mine. I put them away because it hurt to look at them.”

“I’m sorry. I got bored and started rifling through closets.”

“It’s okay.” She stared at the album sleeve. “Linda performed at the Opry twelve times. Twelve. Then everyone forgot about her. Like she was never there.”

“Like we were never there,” Luke added. Like most country fans, he’d grown up listening to superstars like Dolly Parton and Willie Nelson, white singers he heard on the radio.

Although he enjoyed their music, hearing it had never inspired him to follow in their footsteps.

Listening to Jojo’s albums did that. Silas’s Black history lessons made him question every assumption he’d made about what country was supposed to sound like.

Working with August made him want to write his own.

“That’s one of the reasons I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” August said. “After that night at the fair. I couldn’t get over it being you gushing about ‘Island’s in the Stream.’ It made me feel…”

“Seen? Me too.”

She removed the Linda Martell record and flipped through her albums, slowly walking her fingers over each one. Luke watched her with a growing uneasiness. August wasn’t a patient person. When she did anything this slowly, it was to avoid what came next.

Eventually she settled on Ray Charles and used the tonearm to find “I Love You So Much It Hurts.”

Goddamn. Was it that bad? “Is something wrong?”

She let the intro play, waiting until Ray finished crooning about his blues before she answered. “David offered me your spot. Same duet and everything.”

Luke kept his face stoic but shoved his hands into his pockets. They were his worst tell. His fingers were already twitching, eager to grab hold of something. Like he could stop her from slipping away.

“Same publicity, too,” he said, with a light chuckle that felt more like ripping himself open and pretending it tickled. “Same shot at a record deal.”

“Same, same,” she singsonged, but it sounded bitter. “It’s what I always wanted.”

“I know.”

“But I have to stay away from you.”

He swallowed a surge of hurt. “Figured.”

Earlier that day, Luke had received a voicemail from his old record label that forbade him from speaking to August directly.

Shut your mouth while we handle this was the gist, which meant they planned to use strong-arm tactics to discourage her from suing.

Luke had deleted it and ordered David to get her an attorney and publicist. It made sense that whatever team David put together considered him the enemy.

“You knew this would happen, didn’t you? When you sent that recording.”

Luke looked out the window at the sky. It was sprinkled with stars. He’d missed that, living in the city. Once she left, he’d have to focus on the little things to keep going. Cold comfort was still comfort. He may have lost her, but he still had the stars.

“David knows talent when he hears it. Glad he was smart enough to listen.”

August paced a little, her brow wrinkled like she was thinking hard about something.

Luke was done with all that. He was in sensory mode now, focused only on what he could see, smell, and hear.

Like the mysterious creamy scent beneath her floral perfume.

Or how that yellow dress gave her skin a subtle glow.

He didn’t want to miss any of it worrying about things he couldn’t control.

“I said I never wanted to see you again once this was over. But I didn’t mean it.”

He could tell she was rewinding that first day, reliving all the anger flowing between them.

Whenever he pictured it, they were different people.

Some liar with his face spouted nonsense about money and copyrights.

The woman threatening him was too cruel to have ever written a love song. “You were mad at me.”

“Only because I love you. I never stopped. I don’t think I ever will.

” She folded her arms as if she were holding herself together.

Good for her, because he was in pieces. Maybe if he’d let himself think about it, hope for a miracle, it would have occurred to him that all that hate August had spewed wasn’t hate at all.

It was her love inside out—battered, bloody, and unrecognizable.

It was her saying See what you did? How you left me?

“I’ll always love you too.” He moved closer, ready to hold her, but she shook her head. Her eyes were liquid, filled with tears she held back with stubbornness.

“I was horrible to you. I called you a coward and you gave me roses.”

“Everything you said about me was true.”

“No, it wasn’t. I read that article. Sharing all that with the world? That’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Luke didn’t want the compliment. Showing up was the bare minimum, wasn’t it? She’d always been the brave one—the warrior. It had taken him more than a decade to figure out what to fight for. “I’m not—”

“I saw you perform tonight,” she said. “You were gorgeous up there. So peaceful. I stole that from you.”

“No, you didn’t. I can play anytime I want, just not…” His voice trailed as the reality of his situation slammed home. His career was over. No one in their right mind would book him to sing a stolen song. Once the lawyers got involved, he’d be bankrupt, too. “What I lost wasn’t mine.”

“I never would have told anyone you lied.”

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I had to.”

Tears slid down her cheeks. “I’m sorry for threatening you. It was so pointless and… shitty.”

He smiled. “Good people do shitty things sometimes.” He pulled her closer and smoothed her hair back behind her ear. “Especially when they’re lonely.”

“Is that why I did it? Because I’m lonely?”

“Yeah.” He stroked her cheek. “But I’m here now.”

Luke kissed her. And it wasn’t like the first time all those years ago, which had gone so fast it was a memory longer than a moment.

It wasn’t even like last week, when it was hard to tell whether they were kissing or fighting.

This was the kiss in his daydreams. The patient, thorough exploration of a man with all the time in the world.

He licked deep and slow, drinking her in. She moaned into his mouth, and the sound reverberated at his core. He tugged her head back, devouring everything, even her gasps. That was how empty he’d been. He’d never get enough.

She put her hands on his chest and leaned back. “Are we doing this? Or will you change your mind again, remember to be good and noble?”

This was how she dealt with tension, by cutting it with a joke. He couldn’t let her do that. Not tonight. So he let go of his guilt, his good and noble compulsion to do the right thing, because fuck it, this might be the only thing they could ever have.

“I’ll be what you want.” He pulled her against him so she could feel how much he meant it. “You want me weak? I’ll be that. You want to hurt a little?” He tightened his grip, and she shivered. “I can do that, too.” He brushed his lips along her neck. “Use me. I’ll be anything you need.”

She grabbed his nape and let her head loll to one side. He pressed kisses to her shoulder, her collarbone, her jaw. When they finally locked eyes, hers were slick pools of moonlight. “This is going to sound strange.”

“Tell me.”

She suddenly looked younger. Like whatever she was struggling with had stripped away her confidence. “I’ve never been with someone who loves me before,” she said. “I’ve never been… touched that way. I don’t know what it feels like.”

Luke took her hand. “Let me show you.”

August was never nervous about sex, not since she’d been a teenager struggling to articulate her needs during backseat groping sessions in high school.

You can’t tell a guy how to please you if you don’t know yourself.

Now she was an expert communicator. Condoms and lube required.

No socks, please. Touch me there and it’ll ruin the mood.

And most men, the confident ones anyway, appreciated the clear guidance.

She’d hand over her body but never her heart and disappear inside her own pleasure long enough to make life bearable.

That felt good. Safe. Nothing like the frenzy she felt with Luke.

No one kissed her the way he did, like a lost man in the dark chasing light.

His lust was a big, yawning thing that wanted to swallow her whole and she welcomed it, was seconds from begging to be his possession.

The idea of belonging to someone used to be scary, something she would run from.

“What made you start wearing dresses?” Luke kept his eyes on her while he closed the blinds.

August hovered near the door, so unsure of herself that she couldn’t fully commit to being inside the bedroom.

It had been being used for storage before he’d moved in.

Luke had cleared out the boxes and covered the queen-size bed with a white quilt.

A copy of The Fire Next Time was on the nightstand, his place kept with a skinny silver bookmark.