The Pool Boy - Nikki Sloane Page 0,97

sole purpose he’d been put on this earth to do. But I wasn’t sure if that was true.

Maybe his purpose was to be the man I fell in love with.

It wasn’t until he finished the last note that I came out of my trance. One song down, two to go.

But this was the part he’d confessed he was most nervous about. Warming up the crowd and showing off his personality.

“How y’all doing tonight, Nashville?” he said.

I’d snuck a peek at the crowd when we’d first gotten backstage. Most of the floor seats were full and the rest of the seats in the arena were dotted with people, and it sounded like every one of them answered his question with a scream of excitement.

“My name’s Troy Osbourne, and I’m a local boy from right here in the Music City. For those of you who don’t know, Stella gave me this amazing opportunity to come out and perform for y’all. Tonight’s a special night, and not just for me. It’s the last night of her tour, so I want make sure I do both her and our hometown proud.” He had the pick in his hand, and it glinted as he used the back of his palm to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “So, what do you say we kick it up a notch? Sing along if you know it. This is ‘Midnight Train to Memphis.’”

The song seized me in its grip like the first time I’d heard him preform. The gravel in his low notes was perfectly juxtaposed against the clear beauty on the high ones. His fingers flowed perfectly against the fretboard, and although I could only see a sliver of the audience, the people in it were moving to his music. He easily won them over.

When he finished the song, the crowd cheered much louder and longer.

“I love you, Pool Boy!” a female voice screamed from somewhere near the front.

The sound picked up Troy’s nervous laugh, but it came off like he was bashful and not uncomfortable, which only added to his appeal. He put his hand around the microphone, and there was something surprisingly intimate about it. As if he wanted to invite the audience closer.

Only, he turned to look directly at me offstage.

“This final song was written by someone very special to me. I hope y’all enjoy it as much as I do.”

Heat tingled across my skin, drawing goosebumps.

I’d written ‘Power’ for him, but also about us, so this was the moment I’d longed for, ever since telling him I was all in with our relationship. I couldn’t wait for him to put our music out into the world.

When he played the opening chords, the key was wrong. The tempo was still slow, but faster than I’d intended it to be.

Wait a minute.

My anticipation had made my brain slow, and as I listened to the music, my mouth hung open in disbelief. Troy was playing a song I’d written all right . . . but it wasn’t ‘Power.’

“Only with you can I be reckless . . .” he sang.

I wrapped my arms around my body, holding in all my confusion and disappointment. Troy’s set list had been confirmed soon after he’d gotten the opening spot. When had it been changed? And, why? Had Ardy decided it was better if Troy didn’t perform an original and stuck to a song the audience would recognize?

Although this version of ‘Reckless’ was strikingly different from the one that had been a hit years ago. Alan’s single had been upbeat and backed by a band, and he didn’t have the vocal range Troy possessed.

Despite my surprise at the song change, my heart still warmed and fluttered at hearing Troy sing my lyrics and play the music I’d written. And his arrangement was so unique, so fresh, it felt like an entirely new song. The vocal runs he put at the end of his phrases gave me chills.

I couldn’t tell if he had the rest of the crowd in the palm of his hand like he did me, but I had to assume. How could they witness this and not want to burst inside? It was like he’d boiled the song down to its essence, giving it ten times the power of the original.

Or maybe it sounded so incredible to me because he’d told me he imagined he was singing it just for me. As the song entered the final refrain, my body filled with so much emotion, it couldn’t be contained,