Love Song(61)

In other words, she’s not someone whose heart I can break and then never see again. But both my brain and body don’t seem to care about any of those things. Because she’s not just those things.

She’s so much more.

I groan into the pillow. I need to keep my distance going forward. No more staying up all night on the dock with her.

And absolutely no more soul baring.

Like a coward, I avoid her most of the day. I take the bowrider out alone. I sit with Betty and my notebook and scribble the torrent of thoughts gushing out of me. I can’t remember the last time I was so inspired.

Of all the muses the universe could’ve sent me, why her?

Why torture me like this?

It’s late afternoon by the time I’m ready to head back to the house. I’m raising the anchor when my phone rings with a call from Gigi.

“Hey,” I answer as I make my way back to the pilot’s seat.

“Hey, this a bad time?”

“No, I’m just out on the lake. Heading home, though.”

“Where’s Blake?”

“Back at the house.”

“You’re not still being a dick to her, are you?”

“No. Did she say I was?”

“Not at all. But I know you,” my twin says. “You can’t help yourself.”

“I’m not being a dick, Stan. Simply minding my own business and writing music.”

Pulling an all-nighter talking to her…

Jerking off in front of her…

You know, things you do when you’re minding your business.

“How’s the music going?” Gigi asks.

“Good,” I admit. “I’ve been having bursts of inspiration. Wrote two songs already and working on a third.”

“Want to send me something?”

“Nope, not ready. But I might record in the next few weeks.”

“Shit. You are making progress. Have you shared anything with Mom?”

“No. You know I don’t like getting her input until later.”

Gigi’s sigh echoes in my ear. “I don’t know why you fight it so hard. I mean, just imagine a collab between you and Mom! It would be brilliant.”

“I don’t want to collab with her, Stan.”

“Jeez. Fine. Then don’t. But at least be nice to her.”

A frown mars my lips. “I am nice to her.”

“No, you’re not,” Gigi says flatly. “Any time she tries to help you, you shut her down—”

“Really, because you let Dad open hockey doors for you?” I interject. “Remember all the favors he tried to pull with the Olympic committee? You refused to let him help.”

“Yeah, but I was nice about it. You hurt her feelings sometimes, Wyatt. She’s so proud of you. She just wants to see you succeed, and you’re always snapping at her like she’s doing something wrong by trying to support you.”

I squeeze the phone tighter, trying to ignore the shards of guilt slicing into my gut. “Oh, come on, G. Stop.”

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it, kiddo?”

I snort. “Don’t call me kiddo.”

“I’m older than you.”

“By less than a minute.” Guilt continues to swirl inside me, so I try to change the subject. “When are you and BIL showing up in Tahoe?”

“July, same as everybody else. We can only stay a week, though.”

“Fuck that. You need to stay longer. I’ve barely seen you this year.” I know she’s busy with her agenting career, but I miss her.

“Ryder has to go back to Dallas for sure, but I’ll see if I can swing a second week and work remotely. Don’t worry. You’ll have Mom and Dad and the Logans all up in your personal space for the full month of August. Which will give you plenty of time to apologize to Mom,” she says sweetly.

“I have nothing to apologize for. Mom knows the rules. She doesn’t help unless I ask for help.”

“Oh, and you can help Dad when he shows up,” Gigi says. “He wants to set up a recording studio for Mom in the basement. He’s planning on getting started when he’s there.”

“Why does she need a Tahoe studio? Do they want to move here full-time?”

“I think they plan to spend the winter. Makes it easier if Mom has a place to record.”

I hurry my sister off the phone before she can start lecturing me again, then speed back to the house. When I walk into the great room, I find Blake sprawled on the couch, her laptop on her stomach.

“How’s the research going?”

“Slow,” she says without looking up. She taps a few keys. “I’m sending another email to the records office. They keep ignoring my information request for Darlie’s death certificate. If it even exists.”

“What do you want to do for dinner?”

“Nothing. I’m going out with Annaliese.”

I can’t stop the rush of relief. After staying up all night talking, I think we’re in need of some space. So while Blake goes upstairs to get ready, I grill myself a steak and throw a baked potato on the barbecue, then eat dinner alone on the deck.

Blake pops her head out to say she won’t be late because Annaliese has to work early, then leaves me to enjoy my solitude. I will say, leaving Nashville was a solid decision. The change of scenery has rejuvenated me.