she needs to go back to LA soon.
And I know I don’t belong in LA.
So many questions are at the forefront of my mind and nearing the tip of my tongue, but Billie’s voice stops me from asking them.
“I wish we had some music right now,” she comments, and I look down at her, liking the sight of her in my arms a little too much. “I may be the type of girl who always has a song in her head, but sometimes, it’s nice to, you know, hear actual music outside of my brain.”
An amused chortle pops from my lungs, and she looks up at me with a little glare.
“Don’t laugh. I’m serious. I don’t know how you go on these hiking trips without any damn music.”
“Well, the fact that even getting radio service is difficult out here is one of the reasons.”
“And what’s the other reason?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t really listen to music much.”
“You don’t listen to music?” she asks, her voice rising in surprise. “That is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. My sister, Birdie, would die if she heard you say that.”
“She lives in Nashville, right? Pursuing a music career?”
“Yep, and she’s getting ready to head out on her first big tour soon. She’s opening for Blue Street Band…” She pauses and searches my eyes. “But I have a feeling you probably have no idea who they are.”
I smirk and shake my head.
“Well, they’re a big deal in the country music scene.”
“So, I take it music is part of both your and your sister’s daily routine. Like coffee.”
She nods her head, eyes serious. “Music is a necessity. If I’m not actively listening to something, I’m constantly singing something in my head.”
Or humming it out loud. For hours, during our hikes, Billie hummed. Now it makes a little more sense.
“If you could pick one song to listen to for the rest of your life, what would it be?” I ask her, and she lets out an exasperated breath, as if I’ve requested she explain Einstein’s Theory of Relativity.
“That’s a nearly impossible question to answer.”
“But not impossible.” I grin.
“Ugh. Fine.” She sighs. “Give me a minute here…”
“You’re not being graded on this, princess. Any song will do.”
She elbows me in the gut, and I groan. “I said…give me a minute. I take my song choices very seriously.”
Instantly, memories of her rhythmic humming fill my head, and a lightbulb goes off.
“I think I know the song.”
She leans back and narrows her eyes. “How?”
“It’s taken me a little while to figure it out, but I’m pretty sure I know it.”
“Again, how would you know this?”
“Because you’ve been humming it since this trip started.”
Her eyebrows rise toward her forehead. “I hum? Out loud?”
That spurs a laugh from my lungs. “Uh, yeah, you do. Pretty much all the time. You don’t know that you’re humming?”
“No.” Her cheeks flush, but giggles follow. “I just thought I was doing it inside my own head.”
Goddamn, she’s so fucking cute, I can hardly stand it.
I tap her nose with my finger. “Your song, princess?”
“Why don’t you tell me which song you think I’m going to choose first?”
“‘Take Me Home, Country Roads.’ Or, at least, I think that’s the title. It’s an older song, so I don’t know—”
Billie turns around slightly to slap a hand to my shoulder and cuts me off before I can finish. “Get out of my head!”
“Is that the song?”
“Yes.” She slaps me again. “That’s the freaking song.”
“Well, no need for violence,” I tease, and a few chuckles mix in with my words.
“Don’t be such a baby.” She grins. “And, for someone who doesn’t even really listen to music, I can’t believe you guessed it.”
“It’s a good song. One of a few I actually do know. Although, I couldn’t tell you who sings it.”
“John Denver,” she answers without hesitation, but then her voice goes quiet. “That’s a very special song to me.”
“Because it mentions West Virginia?”
“Because it was my daddy’s favorite song. He listened to it all the time,” she explains, her voice now filled with a mixture of melancholy and love. “He always said Momma was his country road.”
“That’s…really sweet.” I might be a dick most of the time, but I’m not completely emotionless. “It sounds like your parents really loved each other.”
“Yeah,” she says, but when tears start to shine in her eyes, she quickly changes the subject. “Do you want to know another favorite song?”
“Of course.”
“‘I’m on Fire’ by Bruce Springsteen.”
I smirk. “I don’t even