Chapter Twelve
“Where are you staying?” Kelsey asked as she reached for another chip.
“At my aunt’s place,” Jamie said, wiping his fingers after the last bite of what had been a rather amazingly good roast beef sandwich. He’d missed the way Texans let the meat speak for itself, with only the simplest of flavorings, not the elaborate sauces and trendy sides that L.A. seemed prone to.
They were gathered in the kitchen, which Jamie had to say was one of the most unique kitchens he’d ever seen. “It’s kind of overwhelming at first, three different kinds of stone and the dramatic grain of the hickory cabinets, but it’s growing on me,” Kelsey had said.
“What he means by his aunt’s place,” Zee said, her tone dry but not acerbic, “is he’s living in the tree house.”
“The tree house?” Kelsey said, clearly startled.
But Deck only leaned back in his chair at the table and nodded. “That’s really getting back to the beginning.”
Zee looked suddenly thoughtful. “I hadn’t thought of it quite like that.” She shifted her gaze back to Jamie. “Is that it?”
“Partly.”
“I thought you were just…doing your loner thing.”
“That, too.”
“Take it from an expert,” Deck said, “he’s got a ways to go on that.”
Kelsey laughed. “And you are an expert.”
“Was.”
“That, too,” Kelsey agreed blithely.
After lunch Jamie went back outside and headed toward the river, curious to see it from here, see how different it might be from where it flowed shallowly past Aunt Millie’s.
Except it’s not Aunt Millie’s anymore. It’s yours.
He swatted at the thought as if it were a Texas-sized mosquito. Focused on the water. It was deeper here, so smoother on top except where it divided to pass an outcropping of stone. He knew they had about a hundred acres here, and in that moment he envied that. Wondered if there was enough in his personal kitty to buy something like this. He hadn’t paid enough attention to that—
“Mind an interruption?”
He nearly jumped; he hadn’t heard Kelsey approach. And saying he minded didn’t really occur to him; he was standing on essentially her property. Because there was no doubt in his mind that she and Declan Kilcoyne were a united front—those two had definitely become one.
“Your place is really great.”
“It’s got…character.”
He smiled at her. “That’s what they say when they’ve got a house that’s so unique it might only fit one person.”
She grinned. “And this one fits Deck.”
“What about you?”
“It’s a bit big,” she said. “But compared to my old place, a garage was bigger.”
He laughed; he’d heard about her falling-down old cabin from True, who had been in charge of mowing it down. Which had been the spark that had started the fire that was Kelsey and Deck.
“I wanted to ask,” she said, “about you and Zee.”
He drew back slightly. “Whoa. That’s jumping right into the fire.”
“I don’t know the full history between you two, so I should probably butt out.” She paused. He couldn’t think of a damned thing to say. “This is where you say ‘Yes, you should.’ And I walk away, no offense taken.”
He studied her for a moment. Kelsey had only come to her father’s hometown after he’d already gone, so he didn’t know her any better than he knew Deck. But he’d learned a lot back in the spring, watching her—and her dynamic mother—help as Hope took her life back.
“After what you’ve done for Deck, I’m not sure I should say no to your…advice.”
She looked relieved, and smiled. “No advice. Just a female point of view, maybe?”
He had, in fact, had no shortage of that in the last few years. But most of them were telling him why, to use a Texas term, he should cut them out of the herd. He knew that was a terrible way to think about it, but half the time he wanted to ask those women what they were thinking—they didn’t know anything about him. He was thankful there had been just as many who weren’t interested in that, who were there for the music. And he’d enjoyed just talking with them more than any of the few times his mood had been such that he took one of the other offerings.
He’d expected her to take his silence as assent, but Kelsey simply waited. And he remembered again he was dealing with the woman who had drawn out one of the most reclusive men in the country. He was beginning to see how she’d done it.
“You going to say what you want to say?” It came out a bit edgy, but she never blinked.
“You going to get mad if I do?”
He sighed. “No. Yes. Maybe.” She smiled, and he added, “But not at you.”
“All I ask. I’ve gotten to know Zee fairly well. And I know you and Zee were together, up until you hit the road.”
The old mantra leapt to his lips. “I never lied to her.” He took a breath and went on. “She always knew I was leaving. Hell, she encouraged it, told me to go, to chase the dream.”
“Before or after you had sex?”
He blinked. Had she really asked that? And so casually?
When he didn’t answer, she went on. “I was a teenage girl once.”
“Figured that out.”
She ignored his wry comment. “Just like with guys, sometimes the brain is at odds with the heart. And the hormones.”
“Remember it well.”
“Sometimes the brain is saying one thing, while the heart is screaming ‘I don’t mean it.’”
“You’re saying…she didn’t mean it when she said I should go?”
“I mean teenage girls are often conflicted. And when you throw great sex into the mix, it messes it up even more.”
His mouth quirked—he couldn’t help it. “You’re assuming it was great.”
“Of course it was, or it would be long forgotten by now. And she wouldn’t be driving a car almost the exact color of your eyes.”
He stared at her. “Her…car?”
“Hadn’t you noticed?”
“I…no.”
“I did, the moment I saw you and her car at Devil’s Rock that day for Hope’s flight.”
Did women always notice things like that, tiny details of color and correlation? he wondered. Then again, he’d met her mom, who noticed everything. Maybe it was inherited.
“You’re pretty young to be so…wise.”
“You’ve met my mother,” she said simply, echoing his own thought. “Look, I’m only saying girls that age can be…stupid. Born romantics that we are.”
“Born?”
“Until life beats it out of us, I think most of us are, yes. And even though you never lied to her, maybe her heart still cherished hopes.”
“Hopes?”
“That you’d stay with her. That she was that important to you.”
He frowned this time. “She was that important. But she was the one who kept pushing me to go for the dream.”
“As I said, conflicted.”
His mouth twisted. “I think I’d use the word confusing. Maybe baffling.”
“No denial here. At that age, we even confuse ourselves. I’m just saying that while she loved you enough to want you to have your dream, and to let you go after it without trying to hold you back, she also loved you so much she wanted you to stay with her.”
“I asked her to go with me.”
“And to some I’m sure that would be a dream come true. But Zee’s a hometown girl. She loves this place. It’s her life. And she and her brother are close, and were especially close then. She knows how much she owes him.”
“I know.” He thought about it for a minute. Maybe longer. Then said slowly, “That’s still a long time to stay mad.”
“It is, so you’re going to have to ask her about now. I was just trying to help with then.”
And she had, Jamie acknowledged as they made their way back to the house. For all his thoughts of Zee—and they’d been frequent—he’d never quite looked at their parting like that.
“Kelsey?” he said as they got to the house. She looked at him. “Thanks.”
She smiled, and he felt a flash of gladness that she and Deck had found each other.
Kelsey and Deck, True and Hope. He’d bet on them all to endure. He’d bet that decades from now they’d still be together.
But he’d bet even more that he’d still be alone. Or settled for something considerably less than what his friends had gained.
Maybe he’d end as some worn-out rocker riding on past glory. Or maybe not. He wondered how long a four-year ride at the top got you in people’s memories.
Or maybe, he thought, trying to chivvy himself out of this sudden pool of self-pity, you’ll just end up as crazy old man Templeton, singing to himself in a tree house.