I’d have been less surprised to learn we were here to rob the place at gunpoint than I am to learn Felicity has a royal country music pedigree.

Bethany Hayes is her grandmother.

That’s akin to having Johnny Cash as a great uncle or Hank Williams as your stepdad or Willie Nelson as your next-door neighbor. The woman is a legend. That signed Gibson hanging over her bed is worth at least a hundred grand. Maybe more, if it ever goes to auction.

So why is her granddaughter working in a bar, living out of a glorified storage room?

I hang back as Felicity walks into the sunny common area, smiling at the elderly patients clustered here and there around the room. Her pretty sundress swishes around her legs with each step. She’s distractingly gorgeous today with her hair tumbling down around her shoulders in soft waves, wild and free from the confines of its regular braid. It almost hurts to look at her directly.

Are you salivating over how beautiful I am again? she teased me, back in the van.

Considering I’d almost driven us off the damn road when I saw her sucking sugar off her finger, that would be a yes. A fuck yes, actually.

I watch her slide onto the piano bench beside Bethany, a gentle smile on her lips. The music comes to a halt as the old woman glances up. I wait for the moment of recognition. The typical hug of reunion between grandparent and grandchild.

It never comes.

Instead, I watch Felicity ask a question I can’t make out from this distance. Whatever she says, Bethany seems to agree, because a second later they both lay their fingertips against the keys. Seamlessly, as if it’s a duet they’ve been rehearsing all day, they begin to play together. The music is lovely, but all seems rather… cordial.

Then again, what do I know? My grandmother was a grammar school teacher, not a superstar.

I sink slowly into a chair by the window, not wanting to intrude on their moment. A passing nurse peeks her head in and pauses, equally captivated by the sight of the two women at the piano.

“Always great to see Bethany smiling,” she murmurs. “Y’all are lucky you came on a good day. She’s not lucid, of course, but she’s in a cheerful mood. Music is just about the only thing that reaches her, anymore.”

“Oh—” I try interrupt her, to tell her I have no business hearing this, but she talks over me.

“Terrible she doesn’t even recognize her own family anymore. Just terrible.” A tsk noise slips from her mouth. “It’s good of y’all to visit, though. It’s been ages since anyone came. And she may not recognize her granddaughter, but she knows she’s someone important. You can tell by the way she looks at her, see?”

I glance over at the two woman on the piano bench, my heart clenching as they pluck out the halting notes of a familiar song. It takes me a minute to place it, but I finally recognize the melody — I Fall to Pieces by Patsy Cline.

“Yeah,” I manage to grunt out, feeling like I’ve been kicked in the stomach with a steel-toed boot. “I see that.”

The nurse sighs lightly. “Give a holler if you need anything, okay?”

With a squeak of sneakers against the tile, she vanishes down the hall.

My eyes move back to Felicity. I thought bringing her here might answer some of my questions, but I find I’m brimming over with more than ever before. The desire to know this girl, to solve the mystery of Felicity, is beginning to consume my every waking thought. She’s been on my mind so constantly since the other night, I’ve been driven half-mad by it. When I spotted her sitting at that bus stop earlier, I almost thought I was hallucinating — conjuring up a vision of the person I most wanted to see.

I’m not sure why I care so much. I just know that I do. Some switch inside me has been thrown and, no matter how much I hate it, I can’t seem to switch it back.

Are we friends? she asked me, looking so young and unguarded it damn near killed me.

I wanted to say no. Hell no. I don’t want to be her friend. I want to tear that sundress to shreds and explore every curve that lies underneath. But a nagging voice reminds me of my impending departure to LA.

Leave her alone.

You’ll only hurt her.

She’s been hurt enough.

I realize I’ve been staring at her quite forcefully when she glances over her shoulder at me and quirks an amused brow. Before I can look away, she waves me over. I crack open the case at my feet and pull out her guitar. It looks a little tired, the strings brittle and worn from too much use, but it’ll do. I make some minor tuning adjustments as I cross the room to stand beside the piano. I wait for the bridge to join in, picking out the chords by ear.

Bethany glances over at the sound, smiling wide. There’s a streak of red lipstick on her pearly-white dentures. I catch Felicity’s eyes and hold them as the three of us find our rhythm. Bethany sings the final verse, her voice shaky and thin, but still beautiful in its way.

“You tell me to find someone else to love… Someone who love me too…”

I can’t stare into Felicity’s eyes with those lyrics hovering in the air between us. It’s too much.

Shifting my focus to Bethany, I keep my fingers on the strings and swallow down the lump lodged in my throat.

I am so unbelievably fucked.

* * *

“You could’ve told me, you know.”

She shrugs. “And ruin the surprise? What fun would that’ve been?”

I stare at her as she stares at her grandmother, who’s now holding court by the piano with a half dozen friends clustered around her. We’re on a plush couch in the corner, the afternoon sunshine streaming through the windows like butter, illuminating every fascinating angle of Felicity’s face. I can’t keep my eyes away.

“How advanced is it?” I ask softly. “The memory loss.”

Her eyes flash to mine.

“The nurse mentioned something…”

“Early onset dementia. And it’s advanced.” She rattles off those terms with as much passion as she’d use to read a grocery list, but I see the raw pain brimming in her eyes. “According to the nurses… this is the best day she’s had in months. Years, even.” I watch her crane her neck up to the ceiling so she doesn’t start crying. Her words are barely a whisper, as if she can hardly get them out. “She raised me, you know. Just for a year or two, when I was really young. But that was the best time of my life.”

Her voice cracks and, god, it fucking breaks me.

“She was my safety net. My backup parachute. The one option I had, in case things ever got really bad at home… which was basically all the time, but at least I always knew I could hop on a bus or hitchhike a few hours and she’d be there, waiting at the door wearing her red lipstick. Old Hollywood glamour and a house full of music, instead of fighting and fear and…” When she glances over, her eyes are full of tears. “But when I was ten… she started fading. Forgetting. Just small stuff at first, so small I didn’t even notice when we’d talk on the phone.” A tear streaks down her cheek and I suck in a sharp breath to keep myself from reaching out and wiping it away. From pulling her into my arms, crushing her against my chest.

I need to touch her — the urge is practically killing me. But I’m afraid, if I do, she’ll retreat back behind that wall she keeps so high around herself. So I lock my jaw and press my fingertips against my jeans while she gets the rest out.

“I should’ve realized something wasn’t right.” Her head shakes. “I should’ve done something…”

“At ten?” I ask softly. “Felicity…”

“I was old enough!” The tears begin to fall faster. She scrubs them away with the back of her hand. “I was so content letting her be my parachute, I didn’t realize she needed me to be hers in return. Not till…”

“Till what?”

“One night, she was making a cup of tea before bed and she forgot to turn off the burners on her stove. The kitchen caught fire. If a neighbor hadn’t spotted the flames and called 9-1-1… She would’ve died.”

“Jesus.”

“After that, there was no choice. Her doctor said she couldn’t live alone anymore. I was too young to take care of her and my parents…” She shakes her head. “Her attorneys dealt with what remained of her estate and they stuck her in here. That stuff in her room — it’s all that’s left, after the fire. That’s all she has in the world.”

“No,” I say lowly.

Her eyes, glistening with tears, lift to mine. “What?”

“Not all she has left.” Moving slow enough that she sees me coming, I reach out and place my hand on top of hers. “She’s got you.”

I wait for her to pull away, to flinch back… but instead, her hand flips over beneath mine and she twines our fingers together, squeezing so hard the bones in my fingers start to ache. Like she’s drowning and I’m her lifeline, thrown into the waves to haul her ashore. I search for the right words to say, but my mind is a blank. Sitting there holding her hand, I feel about as smooth as a fifteen-year-old on his first date. I can’t help it, though. This girl…

She’s ruining me.

“I haven’t been here for two years,” she whispers, her voice laced with so much guilt it makes me wince. “I should’ve come sooner, but my family… my parents… it’s complicated.”

“Hey.” I squeeze her hand in reassurance. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I know that.” She blinks down at our fingers, intertwined tighter than vines, and a laugh bubbles in her throat. “This is really not how I thought my day was going to go.”

“What do you mean?”

“You, here with me.” Her head shakes, sending tendrils of hair spilling over her shoulders in a glossy wave. “It’s so unexpected. I know I gave you a hard time about coming in with me, but I’m really happy you did. Much as I hate to admit it, coming here alone would’ve been hard. And…” She seems to be struggling to find the words.

I wait, barely daring to move as her eyes lift to meet mine. The look in them hits me like a punch.

“It’s nice to have someone to lean on, for a change,” she murmurs. “Thank you, Ryder.”

My heart clenches. That’s it.

Fuck the fact that I’m leaving.

Fuck the fact that it’s wrong.

Fuck the fact that the whole world is stacked against us.

If I don’t kiss this girl right now, I’m going to regret it for the rest of my life.

I lean forward. “Felicity—”

“You know what?” she asks, cutting me off. “This friends thing is pretty cool.”

I freeze, feeling my intentions turn to lead in my stomach. Reality hits me hard.

Friends.

We’re friends.

That’s what she needs me to be, right now. I can’t fuck it up by being a selfish prick. Not when she’s looking at me like that, her grin so bright, so full of hope.

I try my best to return it, hoping she doesn’t she notice my composure fraying at the seams.