Page 32 of Resonance
“He chose the music and fame,” I said softly, and Dan cocked his head to the side, aiming a wry smile at me.
“Sounds very Hollywood biopic, doesn’t it. It had more layers than that, but that’s the gist, yeah. We tried to make it work for another month, tried to play by the rules, failed a couple of times, then got the hang of it. Our publicist set Ryder up on a couple of dates to try to dispel the rumors. I went on one and then was done with that bullshit.”
“Was Iona one of those dates he went on?”
He smiled ruefully. “Sort of. Iona was a mutual friend. She had her own career going and it was just starting to pick up, but she was always Ryder’s date if he needed one to an event. She’d done that throughout our career. I usually went alone because I hated that setup shit, had a hard time connecting to anyone since we were on the road for so long and often. That was our schtick. He was the playboy, I was the loner bachelor. The label loved playing that up. And I guess after a time it became more than friendship between him and Iona the way it happened with him and me. I was gone by then. Couldn’t take it, couldn’t go back, was determined I’d make it on my own. For a time I thought she’d been the one who started the rumors or told the label.” Dan sighed. “But that’s not her. I was just angry and looking to pin the blame on someone else. Took me another decade to realize, really, he was blameless, too. It was all circumstance. Just stupid fucking circumstance.”
“Does it make you bitter seeing Jared Hemmings burning up the charts?” I asked, referring to a recently out country star.
Dan was silent for a moment, then shook his head. “Nah, like I said, it would’ve. Even probably five years ago. But now? Now it’s nice. I’m glad things are moving along.”
He scrubbed his hands over his face and then let them drop, one landing on my stomach where he spread his fingers and stroked my skin lightly. I wondered if he even realized he was doing it.
“I didn’t want to make music anymore after that. What was there to sing about? Love wasn’t enough and it never had been.” He exhaled a long breath, and I could feel the weight let off in it. “No one else knows that, just you and my old manager, so don’t run off at the mouth and spill it. It could still make waves for Ryder, even as far as everything’s progressed.”
“I won’t tell a soul,” I promised.
He made a contented sound and nodded, hand falling away as he reached behind him to plump the pillow beneath his head.
“Should I go back to my room?”
“Nah, it’s almost morning. Get some sleep.”
I disentangled my legs from his and curled up next to him, nose brushing his bicep lightly. “You smell like boot polish and clean laundry.” The scent that’d come to me earlier in the truck.
“Doesn’t sound very flattering,” he murmured on a yawn, and I snickered.
“It is. Sort of. No, it is. Definitely.”
I slipped in and out of consciousness, then returned to my own room as dawn broke. I shivered under the covers after the furnace-like warmth of Dan’s big body and watched the pale light overtake the shadows in the corners.
Chapter 11
Iopened my eyes to a dent in the pillow and sheets where Owen had been, and slid my hand from under the covers to run over the mattress. Cool, so he’d been gone for a while. With a sigh, I rolled onto my back, pushing the heel of my hand against the semi underneath the sheets. I’d have been sorely tempted to use Owen to take care of it had he still been in the bed, so it was probably good he wasn’t. Most of my trysts over the past decade had ended with the same clean break once daylight came.
Regret battled with the memories of him under me, on top of me, the quiet yield of his body, the aroused eagerness in his eyes. Something about him made me ravenous, and I was usually good at keeping those impulses in check. But I’d failed miserably last night. Now I’d potentially complicated things, and that was where the regret mostly factored in, because the rest of it had been really fucking good. Startlingly so.
I got dressed and walked through the big, empty-feeling sunlit house, and found I wasn’t jealous of the understated opulence and obvious wealth the way I’d anticipated coming back here—even in light of my current financial misery. I guess I’d gotten used to my quiet life, my house on the outskirts of the city, and a certain amount of dust on my windowsills.
I found Iona in the kitchen pulling a pan from the oven. “What, no hired help to butter your biscuits?”
She startled at the boom of my voice, then set the pan on the stove, glancing over her shoulder. “Never felt right letting anyone else in my kitchen.”
“You always were a territorial one.” I’d meant it as a tease, but it came out a little more bitter than I intended, and I winced as she set the knife to the cookie sheet carefully and turned around to face me, her hands on the edge of the stove, a flare of hurt in her eyes she didn’t bother hiding.
“Yep. So were you, I seem to remember.”
We stared at each other for a handful of seconds, flint in her gaze and enough stiffness in her posture that someone could’ve sparked a match off her squared shoulders. Iona had never been one to back down. Ryder had liked that about her. I had, too. Still did, I reckon.
“Coffee’s ready.” She pointed to a bank of cabinets before turning to focus on the biscuits again. “Mugs are just above.”
I found them, took one down, and filled it from the fancy system. “You gonna keep this place?”
“Probably not. I’ll wait until Jacob goes off to college, moves out, does whatever his calling is, then sell it I suppose. Or try to. Can’t imagine there’s much call for a place like this in the middle of bumfuck.”
I surprised myself by chuckling. Her, too, by the sidelong look she gave me and the tiny smile that curled in response and soon faded. “We talked about you a lot over the years, you know.”
“I can imagine.” The coffee was potent, a perfect amount of bite in it to sear through the lingering fog of lost sleep.