This little unrequited crush I was nursing kept growing. The fact that we were pretending to be together in public only made it worse. I found myself living for those moments when he’d hold my hand or wrap an arm around my shoulders. Snuggling with him at Scarlett’s bonfire the other night had been like a daydream come true. I’d nestled into him, and for a little while, allowed myself to pretend it was real.
I knew I was setting myself up for disappointment. We were just friends. That was how it had always been between us. He played the part well, when other people were watching. His touches felt awfully real; I was sure they looked convincing from the outside. But when we were alone, he kept his distance. It reminded me that this wasn’t my home, and Gibson Bodine wasn’t my boyfriend.
The noise of power tools quieted. This little fantasy I harbored wasn’t realistic anyway. Even if Gibson did see me that way, what would I do about it? My life wasn’t here. As nice as it had been to visit Bootleg Springs again, that was all it was. A visit. It wasn’t like I could stay.
I pulled my song journal out of my bag and flipped through the pages. Snippets. Unfinished lyrics. Hastily scrawled melodies. I rarely jotted down more than a line or two. I wrote songs with other artists. I helped them get past their self-doubt to find the words and melodies that were waiting to come out. But writing my own songs had fallen by the wayside in the busyness of life on the road.
But really, lack of time wasn’t why I’d stopped writing. The songs in my head were too close to the truth. My truth. Every time I’d sat down with this book and a pen in my hand, I’d stalled out. Just like the artists I was so good at helping.
There was that hazy spot in my memory again. The box in my mind shook. Maybe being here would allow me to face whatever was inside, rattling around with so much noise.
But whenever I tried, there was nothing. It was like a foggy night, nothing but darkness and mist.
I closed the journal and put it back in my bag. I’d put all those things in the box for a reason. Maybe I just needed to let the rest stay there.
I heard the noise of a door shutting, interrupting the quiet stillness of the afternoon. It sounded like Gibson had emerged from his workshop. A minute later, he stuck his head out the back door.
“Hey. I need a shower. Then we can head to the Tuckers’ place.”
He had sawdust in his hair and a few flecks in his beard. I could smell the faint scent of wood from here.
“Okay. I think I’ll change into something a little nicer.”
His eyes flicked up and down. “If you want.”
Without another word, he went inside.
To the outside world, Gibson and his girlfriend Maya were having dinner with Harlan and Nadine Tucker. In reality, this was a chance for the sheriff to interview me without blowing my cover. I appreciated that they were willing to do this for me, but I was nervous. This was the next step in not only revealing who I really was, but hopefully bringing the truth about Judge Kendall into the light. Which scared me to no end.
I couldn’t keep my real identity hidden forever. I’d already noticed a few people giving me curious looks in town. For now, our story was working, but news of who I really was would get out eventually.
Plus, I didn’t want to keep it from Bootleg much longer. This town had held out hope for me for so long, and I wanted more than anything to tell them I was alive. To thank them for never giving up on me. I loved them for that, more than I knew how to express.
I went inside to change and paused outside the bathroom door, listening to the sound of the shower. The thought of Gibson in there, hot water streaming over his body, made me tingly between the legs. I had a momentary urge to strip off my clothes, jump in, and surprise him.
If I’d thought he wanted me, I’d have done it. Right there and then. There was nothing wrong with a little friendly sex between two people who weren’t exactly dating. I wasn’t an innocent girl anymore. I’d had a fling or three.