Читать книгу A Song For Rory - Cerella Sechrist - Страница 13

CHAPTER FOUR

HOW LONG HAD he been standing there? And how much had he heard? Enough, she guessed, because he was clapping along with the rest of them, as though he’d witnessed a fair share of her performance. He was too far away for her to read his expression. Had he realized the song was about him? She hoped not. It was one thing to bare her soul before an audience, but it was another to reveal her insecurities to the man who’d caused them.

What was he doing here anyway? How had he found out where she’d be tonight? Unless someone at the restaurant told him. Her weekly gig at the Lighthouse was well known. She supposed any one of her coworkers could have mentioned it to him. But then, the idea of him actually having gone to Callahan’s looking for her gave her a tiny thrill. He’d been true to his word and tried to see her.

And she, of course, had left him hanging. Stood him up. The stunt still didn’t rest well with her, but a part of her was pleased that he’d gone to the trouble of finding out where she would be. Though she didn’t plan on forgiving him just because he’d made a little effort. She was still miffed that he’d appeared like he had yesterday, showing up where she worked and expecting her to drop everything for him.

She’d like to see how much he enjoyed being put on the spot like that.

She stepped up to the mic again, an idea taking hold. “Thank you,” she said as the applause began to die down, and people resumed their seats. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“It was worth the wait,” Jeremy called from his table, and she gave a nod of thanks in his direction.

“I have another surprise for you this evening.”

She sensed a ripple of interest run through the crowd. “Some of you know that I lived on the road for years, performing with my...” She paused for a second as she tried to find an appropriate word other than boyfriend. “A mate of mine,” she amended. She didn’t look in Sawyer’s direction, but from the corner of her eye, she thought she noticed him straighten.

“Now, for those of you who are new to the area, I should tell you that my friend went on to bigger and better things. He’s known now for his debut album, Chasing the Wild, and he recently won American Heartland Radio’s Artist of the Year award.”

A few whispers ran through the room. Rory couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, but she recognized Sawyer’s name being mentioned.

“It’s been a while since he’s been back home, but tonight, we have the privilege of his presence, as well as a performance.”

She finally looked at Sawyer, her gaze cutting straight to the back of the room and meeting his eyes.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d all welcome Sawyer Landry to the stage.”

As the room erupted into shouts and applause, she smirked in his direction.

Now he’d see what it was like to be put on the spot.

* * *

SAWYER HAD TO give her credit. He hadn’t expected Rory to point him out like she had, much less try to push him into a performance. He’d hoped to speak to her privately, after her set was over. No chance of that happening now. Though he’d done pretty well not being recognized until Rory pointed him out. Most of the coffee-shop patrons were focused on the stage when he’d slipped inside, just in time to hear Rory begin her song.

The song that still had awareness humming in his veins. The mournful melody and soulful lyrics had put him to shame with their truth. He marveled at his own selfishness back then. But he could only dwell on his mistakes so long. He had to focus his efforts on making it up to her.

And if she wanted him to take center stage in this café, then that’s what he would do. As more and more customers turned in his direction, he kept his sights set on the stage and Rory. He tipped his head toward her, acknowledging the challenge, and began making his way from the back of the room up to the front. Several hands clapped him on his back. There were likely former friends here that he’d greet later, but for now, he had a show to put on.

As he took the two short steps onto the platform, Rory began to remove her guitar. She placed it on its stand and moved as if she planned to leave. His hand grabbed her wrist before she could escape. He felt her pulse jumping erratically beneath the skin. Was it the thrill of performing that had her blood pumping? Or did he have something to do with that reaction?

“Don’t go too far,” he warned her.

She shrugged. “Okay.”

“Promise me.”

She looked over his shoulder and out at the audience. He didn’t want her trying to sneak out while he was distracted. She’d never been one to break a promise, which is why he tried to force one from her.

“Give me your word that you’re staying.”

She shifted uncomfortably, and he wondered if her plan had been to bolt as soon as she got the chance.

“I’m staying,” she agreed.

He waited, eyeing her, uncaring about the impatient murmurs sounding behind him. She sighed and tugged her wrist free from his grasp.

“I promise,” she agreed.

Satisfied, he reached for the guitar she’d set aside and adjusted the strap to better fit his broad shoulders. Rory hopped off the stage and took a place at the bar, people moving to accommodate her. He kept a steady eye on her until she nodded, and he decided she’d keep her word.

Only then did he turn to the audience.

“How y’all doing tonight?” It was the standard way he opened his performances, giving his audience the chance to express their enthusiasm. Tonight was no exception. The crowded coffeehouse exploded with applause, whistles and hollering.

“How about Miss Rory Callahan? She’s something, isn’t she?”

More shouts and some foot stomping. He glanced Rory’s way, and she was focused solely on him, ignoring the reactions from the crowd. He strummed a few notes to get a feel for the instrument.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking the spotlight away from Rory, since she’s the one you came to see.”

The audience responded with reassurances as Sawyer finished tuning the guitar to his satisfaction. In some ways, it was strange to be performing for such a small group again. He’d grown used to stadium crowds, massive sound systems and rows of bright lights shining down on him. Up here, on such a tiny platform with only a few house lights, he felt himself relax. As much as he loved the thrill and adrenaline of a powerhouse performance, there was something familiar and comforting about such an intimate venue.

“Well, if you don’t mind me playing a song or two, how about we pick things up a little?”

With that, he strummed the first few chords of one of his recent hits, a slightly rockabilly tune about a teenage boy trying to impress a hard-to-win girl. He looked at Rory a few times as he sang and caught her frowning at the lyrics. He wondered if she’d ever heard it before, if she knew he’d written it with her in mind. When they were younger, she’d been a vulnerable, guarded girl, but that had been part of what drew him to her initially. He could see she was wounded, still trying to find her place. But she was tough and unapologetic about being different from the typical teenage girls he knew. She’d caught his heart without him realizing it, and, as the lyrics said, “Drew him in with a smile.”

The audience enjoyed the song, clapping along and singing the chorus in unison with him. When he wrapped it up with a riff on the guitar strings, the crowd broke into rowdy applause.

He raised a hand to settle them. “Glad you enjoyed that,” he offered. “It seems like you guys know some of my music.”

There was a ripple of laughter that went around the room.

“Any requests?”

For the next half hour, Sawyer played several songs from his album and even a tune he hadn’t performed in years, thanks to a request from an old high-school friend in the audience. He kept an eye on Rory as he sang and even managed to catch a smile on her face at one point, which she quickly wiped away when she saw him watching her.

He’d learned to read an audience quite well in his years of performing, especially a small group like this. So when he sensed they were ready, he thumbed a couple softer chords.

“I appreciate you guys giving me the chance to play a few songs here this evening, but I know you didn’t come to hear me. You came for Rory. Some of you know that Rory and I were a joint act for years. Now, I’ve played with a lot of talented people since. But I’ve got to tell you that none of them quite measure up to her.”

There were murmurs of approval moving through the room.

“I don’t know if it’s those Irish roots of hers or something she inherited from her parents, but you’ve got to give it to her—the girl’s got spirit, and she knows music.”

The murmurs grew louder, and a couple people even clapped. He slid a glance Rory’s way. She was looking down at the bar, and though he couldn’t see her face, he suspected she was blushing.

“So, to finish up tonight, I’d like to ask her to come up here and join me.”

Rory’s head snapped up, and his suspicions were confirmed. Her cheeks were tinted pink, and her eyes were wide with surprise.

“And we’ll perform a duet for you.”

There were more whistles and shouts of approval, but Sawyer didn’t pay them any mind. He didn’t need this crowd’s permission. He only needed Rory’s. He looked at her, trying to convey his thoughts with his eyes.

Please. Come and sing with me once more.

He wasn’t sure she’d do it. Rory was stubborn, and she wouldn’t stand for being bullied or manipulated. Neither of which he was trying to do, but he wasn’t sure she’d see it that way. So he was a little surprised, but mostly relieved, when she pushed away from the counter and stood to her feet.

She made her way back to the stage and came to stand beside him. And having her there, it was almost as if the last two years had ceased to exist, and they’d never been separated at all.

* * *

RORY’S HEART WAS thundering in her chest so loudly that she feared the microphone would pick it up. She should have known Sawyer would find a way to turn the situation around on her. But what worried her most was what a thrill it gave her. It had been nearly two years since they’d shared a stage. But standing here next to him, all that time melted away, and for a brief moment, she could have almost convinced herself that nothing had changed.

Sawyer kept the guitar, and though she waited to hear the opening chords, she knew which song he’d choose. As she’d expected, he launched into a duet they’d performed many times—a heartbreaking song about love and loss and the determination to keep going through it all.

He took the first verse, and she waited to join him until the chorus. When she did, their voices blended in such achingly sweet harmony that she had to blink back tears.

Why had Sawyer come back now, after all this time? She’d waited for him at first, thinking he’d realize what he’d done, that he couldn’t live his life without her. But as seasons changed and summer turned into fall and then winter, and she heard his first single on the radio, she had to accept that they were finished. She had spent nearly as much of her life with Sawyer as without him, so it had taken her a long time to adjust to his complete and utter defection. Most days, it still felt a little odd not to see him. They had been such a constant part of each other’s lives that something still felt missing in her day when he wasn’t there, like forgetting to brush her teeth or how to tie her shoes.

Not that she equated her relationship with Sawyer to those things, but he had always been such a steady part of her life. When he’d taken that away, she’d been adrift for a long time. And now here he was, back in the center of her world. She didn’t quite know how to deal with that.

As she sang her part of the song, she felt his eyes on her. She kept her focus on the audience, not wanting to see the look on his face, but at the same time, craving his attention. This was not good. She didn’t want to wish for anything from Sawyer, not even so much as a glance. But having him beside her filled up a vacant pocket of her spirit that she’d tried to forget was empty. Now with the two of them on the stage together, everything that had been misaligned for the last two years shifted into place.

She gave herself over to the song, closing her eyes and soaking in the lyrics and the soft strum of the guitar as their voices blended together on the bridge.

When you get lonely,

I’ll be everywhere you are...

When Sawyer strummed the last note, she kept her eyes closed for only a second longer before the coffeehouse crowd rattled the walls with thunderous applause. She opened her eyes and instead of looking at the audience, her gaze went straight to Sawyer. He was watching her, happiness lining his features. Her heart tugged at the sight of him, those warm blue eyes, the trademark scruff along his jawline and that light brown hair that occasionally fell over his forehead and into his eyes. She had missed him. Too much. She couldn’t let him back in again, after how thoroughly he’d shattered her world with his leaving.

She’d promised him she’d stick around, but their time on the stage was up. She had to get out of there before her heart overrode her head.

“Thanks for a great night, everyone!”

With that farewell, she moved past Sawyer and off the stage. He was still holding her guitar, but she decided she’d pick it up sometime over the weekend. Dave would see it was taken care of.

She nearly tripped down the two steps leading off the stage and began making her way to the door. Several people tried to stop her, but she cut off each of their comments with a thank-you and kept forging her way toward escape.

When she reached the exit, she spared a glance behind her. She saw Sawyer, surrounded by fans but his eyes centered solely on her. His expression had shifted from joy to hurt. He was obviously wounded by her quick departure. For a moment, she wondered if she should wait for him. But no, she couldn’t risk it.

She exited the café and headed for her pickup, at the far end of the parking lot. The sight of the truck’s peeling blue paint caused her to sigh with relief. It was like a refuge, offering shelter from everything going on outside its cozy little cab. Technically, the pickup was Connor’s. He’d started using it after their father’s death. But Rory had a lot of memories wrapped up in the vehicle. Patrick Callahan had purchased it shortly after he’d immigrated to the States with his two young children, following their mother’s death. To this day, the smell of sunbaked vinyl upholstery and engine oil always made her think of Sunday drives, wedged in the middle of the cab between her dad and brother. She hadn’t minded that Connor inherited the pickup because she knew he’d take good care of it, as their father had. But now that the restaurant was doing so well, and Connor was marrying Harper, he’d bought a more family-friendly SUV and given her use of their dad’s old truck.

She nearly ran the last few steps, then pulled open the door with a creak and climbed inside. She never locked it. It wasn’t worth stealing, and she kept nothing of value inside. But when she reached for the keys she usually kept hooked on the belt loop of her jeans, she frowned.

Oh, no. She’d left her keys beneath the counter of the bar inside. She pushed her head against the headrest and groaned. She couldn’t go back for them. No way.

Which meant that if she wanted to avoid Sawyer, she’d better start walking.

* * *

SAWYER MIGHT HAVE missed her if he hadn’t decided to swing by her apartment and make sure she’d made it home okay. It was a thinly veiled excuse to see her, but he didn’t much care at this point. She’d dodged him twice, and while he probably deserved it, he’d been hurt that she’d broken her promise to stick around at the coffee shop. He was preparing what to say to her as he drove, speaking the words aloud to the silence of his rental car.

“Rory, I know I don’t deserve it, but I would appreciate it if you could respect the relationship we had enough to hear me out.”

He cringed, considering how she’d respond to that little speech. It wasn’t as if he’d exhibited a lot of respect for their relationship when he’d dumped her. He drew a breath and tried again.

“It would mean a lot to me if you’d just listen to what I have to say.”

No better. He didn’t think she was much interested in what would mean a lot to him.

He cleared his throat and considered how to rephrase his request, then stopped as he noted a lone figure, striding briskly down the sidewalk ahead. He’d know those stiff shoulders anywhere. He accelerated a few feet ahead and slid the car into an empty space on the street. He killed the engine and exited the driver’s side just as Rory came abreast of the truck. She took one look at him and her jaw went slack.

“You followed me?”

“Hardly. You didn’t give me much of a chance to follow you anywhere after you bailed back at the Lighthouse.” He tried to keep his tone even, but a note of accusation still leaked through. “You promised you’d stay.”

She shifted from one foot to the other, and he recognized guilt in her expression. “I did stay,” she protested. “I stayed for your entire performance. Although if I’d known you planned to ambush me into taking the stage with you—”

“Which was not so different from what you did to me,” he pointed out. He had her there, and he could tell she knew it, too, by the way she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Her shoulders remained set, however.

“Rory, can we please talk?”

“You mean can you talk? I don’t imagine I’ll have much to say. And even if I did, it’s not as if you asked my opinion the last time we talked.”

He grimaced. Okay, so she was still hurt. Not that he could blame her, but maybe it had been a touch of arrogance on his part to assume she’d welcome him back, if not exactly warmly, then at least not with this degree of vehemence.

He glanced down the street. “Look, your apartment is only a few blocks from here. Let me drive you home. I’ll talk on the way. If you don’t like anything I have to say by the time we reach your place...” He drew a breath, afraid to gamble away his chance but knowing he couldn’t exactly keep showing up where he wasn’t wanted. “Then I’ll leave you alone. For good. Deal?”

She didn’t answer him right away but scuffed her heels on the pavement as she considered. After a long minute, during which he was pretty sure he’d held his breath for the entire sixty seconds, she nodded.

“Fine. Just until we reach the apartment.”

He should have felt relief, but he only experienced a wave of apprehension. He had less than five minutes to convince her.

He would have to talk fast.