Track 21: Open Book
“You said my cover told you everything,
but you couldn’t have been more wrong.
You said I lied and cheated, all for the story,
The truth is I’ve been an open book all along.”
“THANK YOU, NASHVILLE!” I YELLED to the crowd and even with the mic, it was still drowned out by their screams. “It’s so good to be back home.”
My smile was so big that it hurt. But it was a good hurt compared to the other kinds I’d been experiencing these past two weeks. I waved and scanned the crowd, catching my parents and Ash in the front row. Right next to my mom was my aunt and my three cousins. And then I winced, thankfully only slightly, seeing Zach’s parents there, too, right next to Ash.
“So, we didn’t get to chat yet,” I began, acknowledging that I’d come out on stage and begun with three songs back-to-back from my Heart Break album without really saying much. It had been my idea, my way of giving me some time to steel my nerves for what I planned. I’d also chosen the three songs that should be listed under ‘Related Resources’ when it came to Zach Parker; they were all about him: ‘Treehouse,’ ‘Sixteen,’ and ‘Retched Romeo.’
Tay was right, Bruce wasn’t pleased when I told him what I needed to do, but he also wasn’t completely opposed. I think after the last show, he realized just how far my fans were willing to go for me—how much they cared—and that if I thought this was the right thing to do, so would they.
I grabbed the stool that they had set out and pulled it a few inches closer to the front of the stage, smiling as I heard my name being cheered from various locations in the arena.
Climbing onto it, I sighed and crossed my legs. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what happened at my last show.” Holding my hand up to the side of my mouth, I pretended to whisper, “If you don’t know, I’d rather not relive it so just ask Google while I ramble here for a few minutes.”
‘We love you, Blake.’
I smiled.
Deep breaths. Be strong. Be courageous. Be honest.
“I do, however, have a confession.” I bit my lip. “I have something to tell you that I am so deeply sorry for.”
If the world stopping ever made a sound, I was sure it was this one: the collective catch of seventy-thousand breaths.
“It’s kind of a long story. One that can mostly be summed up by saying that I haven’t had the best luck with love. Especially very recently.” My lips tipped up in a wry smile.
‘Me too!’
‘Boys suck!’
‘Your songs are exactly how we feel!’
And then I laughed at myself. At how sad a lovestruck girl I could be. But there was a smile in there, too, because I wasn’t alone. And with that comfort, I sat up straighter, brushed my hair back from my face, and had a heart-to-heart with seventy-thousand of my closest friends.
“There are some people that would have you think that I actually like going through boyfriends faster than Kleenex during allergy season and that this is all a game to me.” I cleared my throat. “I’d like to break it to them… it’s not a game; I’m only human—and that’s an FYI not an FYE. So, I’d like to set the record straight tonight.” I shifted in my seat, setting Marty—my shield—down and propping him against the stool. “The heart is a funny thing. A puzzle. And, maybe like some of you, I’ve been searching for the missing piece. Ok, I’ll be honest, I’ve been trying to jam anything that looks like it might fit into there.”
More laughter rippled in waves from the crowd.
“I’ve never been good at puzzles,” I muttered sheepishly, drawing more laughs from them. “Have you ever liked someone and been afraid that they won’t love you for you? That they’re with you for some other reason?”
Overwhelming shouts agreed with me. My ‘other reasons’ might be more complex or more obvious than theirs, but they weren’t different.
“Glad I’m not alone in that,” I said softly. “So, I was searching and I made some bad choices—choices that, because of all this,” I spread my arms wide to indicate the lights and the fame, “seemed much more sensational to describe as heartless rather than hurting. Imagine your latest break-up… what happened… whose decision it was… and then imagine that it was written as the complete opposite. Welcome to my life.”
I let out that hard laugh again, unable to stop myself, and said, “You know, they tell me that I’m lucky up here all dolled up and dazzling, but really I’m just confused because I don’t feel pretty or worthy—I just feel used.”
“So that leads me to my confession. My apology.” I stood, too antsy to stay seated, and walked to the edge of the stage. “It may or may not come as a surprise that most of the songs from my Heart Break album were written about Zach Parker. The truth is I’ve been in love with Zach for most of my life. The truth is that my heart has been his to break for a very long time because love is a ruthless game—where in order to win, you have to lose. And this love is the kind that you fall into until it hurts or bleeds, but never fades with time.”
They were the truest words that had ever come off of this stage—and I’d sung most of my heart out to these people. But this. This was the kind of personal that most stars tried to keep under wraps because some part of your life deserved to only belong to you. I didn’t disagree. But I’d also lied to them which, for me, meant that they deserved this at least—the missing piece of my heart. Honest. Raw. Unfiltered. Unembellished.
I choked after speaking, surprised by the rush of tears that flooded my eyes and crept over the edge.
I still loved Zach and I’d sent him away.
Maybe there was still a way to fix that; I couldn’t be sure. All that I could be sure of right now was what I was about to do.
That truth burned so brightly that it should have lit up the entire stadium even as all the lights on the stage went off.
Wait, what?
What was happening?
I whipped around, trying to look to the side of the stage and see if there was anyone who could tell me what was going on. The power hadn’t gone out—I could still see some dim lights in the stadium seating. It was only the stage that had gone completely dark.
“I’m so—” I broke off, realizing that my mic wasn’t working either. “Can you—” I tried again, but I doubted that even the people in the front row could hear me talking over the general gasps and wondering rumbles of the crowd.
I stumbled backward, tripping into the stool. I felt Marty begin to fall and it was a miracle that I reached out and was able to grab him before he crashed to the ground. I bit into my lower lip hard. What was going on?
I just needed to tell them.
I could hear the words I’d recited, the confession that was written with every beat of my heart, screaming in my head:
“The press doesn’t want my broken parts; they want to turn them into permanent scars. Over the past several months, their harsh words have cut me down. But you guys, your love and support was like a flood, drowning them out. This is me. Broken. Bruised. Brave. Blake. I’m sorry for what I did, but I’m not sorry for who I am because it’s who I’m meant to be.”
My catharsis was withheld and now it burned in my throat like bile unwilling to go back down inside; the truth needed to come out.
Breathe, Blake.
It was probably less than a minute that everything had gone dark and I felt paralyzed but it felt like much longer.
There was nothing on the stage right now between me and the side. I was sure that if I walked in that direction, I’d run into someone who could tell me what the heck had just happened.
“Sorry for the interruption.”
I froze at the voice that was not mine booming out into the audience, the goosebumps echoing the ripples in my heart. I waited—holding my breath like every other spectator in the crowd for him to speak again.
Zach.
I watched her from the sidelines, shadows shuddering in the dark. It had taken a fuckton of bribes and convincing to be able to pull this shit off—especially since Blay had decided to alter this show for her own purposes, too. Ash had gotten me a copy of the set-list and timing and it was just a miracle that he’d decided to ask Tay for it because she’d been one of the few who had the updated version.
Clearly, Baby Blake was planning something for her fans, something that she didn’t want getting out before the show.
As soon as I watched her walk on stage and perform those songs that were tattooed on my memory as a melodic reminder of what I’d done to her, I knew what she was thinking.
Good thing I’d already been one step ahead.
I let her talk to them, waiting for the right moment to give Ash the signal to shut down the stage lights, putting most of the venue into a blackout. I’d almost missed that fucking moment because she admitted to tens of thousands of people that she loved me and the only thing I could hear—think—acknowledge—was that She. Loved. Me.
After it all, she still loved me.
I had no plans to leave this stage tonight without her by my side, but I sure as shit felt a whole lot more confident in what I was about to do.
“This wasn’t part of the schedule,” I drawled, hearing the half-smile in my voice. As I walked out onto the stage, Ash had them bring the lights back on low, keeping a soft spotlight on me. “So, I apologize for stealing the show.”
She knew it was me.
They figured it out as soon as they saw me take off one of the hats they so vocally disapproved of.
‘Jerk!’
‘Asshole!’
‘Get off the stage! Boooo!’
I was officially being booed while on stage. First time for everything.
“I know, I know,” I said, holding up a hand like I was trying to wave defeat. “I’m a dick. But trust me, you’re going to want to hear what I have to say.”
Crickets.
I’d never heard silence quite this loud.
I turned to face Blake who was standing there with her mouth wide open—an image that I’d save for later.
“What are you doing here?” I read her lips as they mouthed the question. Her mic was still off—I’d made sure of that.
I stared at her for a second, taking in her straight hair, cut off shorts, black boots, and plaid shirt. This was the Blake that I knew—not the one covered in sequins and sparkles, but the one that was homegrown honey. All natural sweetness. It looked like Nashville was getting full-fledged Baby Blake tonight.
“I’m here for you,” I told her, refusing to let her look away from me. I was here for her and I would fight for her because I was never fucking letting her go again.
‘Yeah, sure you are!’
‘Don’t fall for it, Blake!’
I gritted my teeth, instantly willing to gut anyone who told her to stay away from me.
“I know Blake just told you how she’s loved me forever. Well, I need to be honest with you, too… I’ve loved her for longer.” That shut them up. “You’re probably wondering then, how I could do what I did?” I asked rhetorically, letting my hat fall from my hand. “You see, Blake’s problem is that her heart is too big. She loved me when I didn’t deserve it. And my fault was always that I was convinced I didn’t deserve it. I thought I was falling on my own sword the day I decided that I wouldn’t let her sacrifice the things I knew meant the world to her—her family, her career, her fans—for me.”
“Zach…” I turned my head to see Blake at my side, staring at me wide-eyed, wondering if I was really going to do this.
“The truth is, ladies and gentlemen, that for the past five months, we haven’t really been dating.”
I could see the shock as it rippled through the crowd, suspense and anticipation clogging the air. We both looked out at the dimly lit crowd, half-expecting a riot to start at my confession. But they waited.
“Blake came to me over Christmas and asked me to be her fake boyfriend to help get the press to leave her alone, to help stop them from rubbing her heartbreaks in her face.” I tore my eyes from them because they didn’t fucking matter; I’d let them matter for too long when she was the only one I should have been focused on. “That may upset some of you. But you should also know that even though our relationship may not have been real, our love always was.”
The angle of the low lights was just enough to reflect off the tears I saw begin to collect in her eyes. Like a reflex, my fingers itched to wipe them away.
“I broke up with her because I was afraid that information was going to be published and would damage her career. Again, I acted like a fucking—sorry—idiot, believing that I wasn’t enough to fill this beautiful woman’s Texas-sized heart.” Her hands rose to cup over her mouth and wipe the wetness from her face. “I care about what happens to your reputation, Baby Blake, but after losing you, that’s nothing compared to how much I care about what happens to your heart.”
The ‘awws’ that echoed through the crowd would have been made me laugh if I wasn’t ripping my heart from my chest to give this woman the apology that she deserved.
“Zach, I—” she started as she stepped towards me.
I held up a hand and kept talking. “You gave me your heart nine years ago, Blakebaby, and I’ve done a shit job of taking care of it. I’ve bruised it. I’ve scarred it. I’ve broken it. All in an attempt to give it back to you. But just like the night I met you, when I wasn’t going to let you go anywhere—run anywhere—without me, your heart wouldn’t let me go. I still don’t think I deserve it. The only thing that’s changed is that now I don’t give a fuck whether I do or don’t; it’s mine. And I’m here tonight to tell you that there’s no way in hell you’re getting it back.”
Her hand pressed against her lips that I was pretty sure she was going to bite right through in an attempt to not start sobbing. Tears ran down her face like drops of disbelief. I couldn’t help but smile because I was nowhere near fucking done. No, when I was done there was going to be no one on the goddamn planet who would ever question how much I loved this woman and what I would risk to keep her.
“This is me, Blay, all of me standing here in front of you, swallowing my stubborn pride, and saying that I’m sorry for that night. This is me telling you that I can’t live without you any longer. And I hope that having all of me will be enough.” I stepped barely an inch away from her. All I wanted her to be able to see was me. “Because without you, Blakebaby, I’m a melody living in a world that can’t hear sound.”
And that was what broke her last bar of restraint; she let out a strangled sob and with a curse because I couldn’t stop myself, I pulled her hard against my chest, unable to keep my hands off of her any longer.
And then her head tipped up to mine and she murmured loud enough for only me to hear, “Zach, the shine of the thousands of spotlights and all the stars in the darkest of night skies—all of this will never be enough for me. Without you, the rest of it will never be enough. You are all I need.”
“I’m so fucking sorry, baby,” I choked out as she dove into my chest again.
The cheers and sighs faded into the background as I held my girl, feeling her body shake against me. Part of me knew that she was mine, the other part still held onto her like my life depended on it.
And it did.
A short second later she pulled back, wiping her face and darting her eyes to the stunned crowd and back to me.
“I-I’m sorry,” she said with a wobbly voice. “I-I’m a mess.”
‘You’re beautiful!’
‘Forgive him!’
Her words had echoed softly through my mic.
I chuckled. “You’re not a mess, Blay. You are the most headstrong, awkward, and captivating kind of beautiful.” I could see the way my words made her want to break down again. And if she did? So be it. She deserved to hear every fucking phrase. She deserved to be worshipped on stage… in private… every damn second of every damn day.
‘Listen to him!’
“Your beautiful is made up of starlight and wishes and magic—the type of magic that foolish men like me run away from… and then run back to when it’s too late.”
Her lower lip quivered so badly I wanted to bite it just to keep it steady.
“Am I too late, Blakebaby?” I whispered quietly.
‘No!’
’Tell him he’s not!’
‘Kiss him!’
Smiles broke on both of our faces at the last one. Talk about having a commentary accompany one of the most important moments of our lives. I didn’t care. I would have yelled it from the fucking mountaintops if that’s what it took to make her mine.
“You’re not too late,” she said with a watery smile. “I miss you too much to be mad anymore.”
The lights came back on with a flood. Unnecessary. The smiles that broke on our faces could have lit the whole damn stadium.
“I love you, Blakebaby. Always.”
“I’ve always loved you, Zach,” she returned as she wrapped her arms around my neck.
At that point, the crowd had ceased to exist. It was just her and me. Against the world. For the world. It didn’t matter—we’d create a brand new world.
My forehead rested on hers, losing myself in those brilliant blues before I claimed her lips, kissing her like I should have in Minnesota—and ten years ago. This was the fairytale kiss. And it wasn’t because there were people or cameras watching—in fact, it was in spite of those things. For the first time, they knew what they saw was for real.
It was only when the chanting of ‘Blake and Zach’ gained full steam—and when Ash flicked the lights (because even though he knew how we felt didn’t mean he was ready for this to be paraded in front of his face) that it registered that we were still in front of the crowd.
“Sorry,” I rasped hoarsely. “I got a little carried away there.”
Her red lips widened into an even bigger smile. That was my girl. Wearing her heart on her sleeve… shirt… shoes… and smile.
“You’re my North Star, Blakebaby. No matter what happens or where I go, I always find my way back to you.”
“Seriously?” she whimpered before she sobbed again. “They’re all seeing me ugly cry!”
Laughter rippled through the crowd as she playfully used my shirt to wipe her face.
‘We love you, Blake!’
I laughed. “Well, there’s more coming.”
Palms against my chest, she pushed back. “Are you joking? I’m a mess!”
“Blay,” I cupped her face, “I have almost ten years of things built up inside of me that I should have done and should have said. The best I can do is have someone bring you out a box of tissues because I’m not done with you yet.”
She groaned as the crowd went wild. At least I had them on my side.
I stepped back and faced the stands. “I apologize for taking up so much of the show you came to see, but I’m not sorry,” I said with a devilish grin. “Now, y’all came to hear Blake sing—and you will—but first, I have a song that I want to sing for her.”
“Oh, God. I think I need to sit down.” We all laughed, hearing her mumbled complaint. Apparently, Ash had her mic turned back on low.
I thanked one of the stage hands who ran out with my guitar and a second stool for me to sit. A few quick strums to verify that it was tuned and ready (like I hadn’t checked ten times before coming out here), I looked over my shoulder.
“This ones for you, babe.”
And then I played. Familiar chords. A familiar tune. She knew what was coming… because she was the one who wrote it.
“In my eyes, you are the sunrise.
Bound to my blood and always on my mind.”
Even though I took some liberties with the lyrics, this time it was my turn to sing my heart for her.
“In my eyes, you are the sunrise.
Effortless captivating, too enchanting to be mine.
Here I am, day after day.
My heart, it rises for you.
So, please always stay,
My heart, it rises for you.
Say you’ll be mine, Blay.
My heart, it rises for you.
And I know for me, it’s always you.
Please don’t leave the mess of this man
With the heart that adores you.”
My heart pounded as the last chord faded into silence. It wasn’t blood, but Blake that pumped through my veins. And then she was in my arms again.
Fearless.
Forever.
Mine.