Wes

Thoughts and emotions flit through my mind. None of them what I should be feeling toward someone I’ve just employed to take care of my baby sister. Autumn had told me she was beautiful of course, and believe me, I’ve seen my share of beautiful women. Fame attracts all sorts of people, among them many stunning women. But I’ve never seen anyone who could actually make me go weak in the knees. I thought that was just an expression, not an actual thing. Why wouldn’t she shake my hand? Did she think I was staring at her scars? Because honestly, I hardly even noticed them. If anything, they only enhance the perfection of the rest of her face. Of course, I would never base a relationship solely on looks. If I ever get married and commit my life to someone, I want to know it’s based on a deeper connection than that. For all I know, Jemma isn’t the sort of person worth getting to know. Perhaps she’s shallow and vapid. Who am I kidding? From what Autumn’s told me she is smart, kind, funny and loving. Probably much too intelligent for a guy who barely made it through high school.

Autumn places a hand on my arm, and for once it doesn’t stir any feelings within me. “So what do you think, Wes? She’s amazing, isn’t she?”

“Yes, she is. But I think I may have upset her already. She didn’t shake my hand. I think she thought I was staring at her scars…but it wasn’t that. I just wasn’t prepared for how stunning she is…”

“You like her, hey?” Finn grins.

“She’s my employee, Finn.”

“Yes, well, Autumn was mine too if you remember, and look how perfectly that worked out for me.”

“Finn, stop,” Autumn says gently. “Jemma isn’t looking for a relationship right now. She isn’t ready to move on after what happened. And I know she would never consider a life in the spotlight. Can you imagine what the paparazzi would say about her and what happened? They’d drag it all up again. Her life would be a living hell.”

“Sorry, love, I remember what it was like for you.”

“Shh, that’s not what I meant. That was different. What we had was meant to be and I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“Really?” Finn says. “Even my deranged brother kidnapping you?”

“Well, I won’t say I wasn’t terrified at the time, but I knew you’d come, and I haven’t had any episodes since it happened. In a way you could say Jason helped cure me. I know I can face the worst that life throws at me and I won’t break.”

“You are amazing, my love.”

Finn and Autumn draw closer, and I know they have completely forgotten that I’m standing there. Not wanting to intrude, I walk back to the house. Stan and Leon head up to the garage apartment. The place they often hang out when they aren’t required to attend to anything in particular but need to be on call just in case. The house is quiet. The girls must still be upstairs. Unsure whether to head up and find them or leave them to get to know each other, I drift aimlessly through the living area. Eventually, I find myself wandering downstairs to the piano.

The Steinway baby grand was one of the first things I bought after the house. I lift the lid and gently run my fingers across the keys. I begin to pick out a new melody, not really concentrating, just feeling the music. I’ve never written something so easily before but it’s as if somehow I’ve always known this song. My eyes close as I play through the bridge and back to the chorus. In my mind, I see bright blue eyes and golden hair. I push the image away as I continue to play. As always, I will do what’s right. I will treat Jemma Jones as an employee and nothing more. Because that’s who I am, that’s what I do.

Jemma

My bags are unpacked. It didn’t take long really. I don’t have that many personal possessions. What I did have he destroyed, and I don’t have the money to replace them. It doesn’t matter. I have what’s important, my faith, my friends, and my family. I refuse to spend any more time thinking about my ex-boyfriend. His name will never cross my lips again.

Sophie was giving me a tour of the house until her friend Anna called. I left them to chat about what boy did what at school yesterday. I remember being thirteen and how exciting it all seemed. If only that rosy glow of childhood reflected real life. I guess for the lucky ones it does. But for some, reality casts a dim shadow. I stop myself, stop my thoughts from drifting down that path. I know better than that.

The house is beautiful. Not only that, but it has a lovely homey feel as well. The thought of living here for the next few months is very appealing. If I save enough, I should be able to get my own small apartment when I leave. Already, I know I’m going to miss the beautiful acres of garden that can be seen out all of the many windows. I ache to put my hands into the soil and help it flourish. If Wes doesn’t have a gardener when he’s at home, he’s done an incredible job.

Eventually, I wander downstairs to the only part of the house I haven’t seen yet—the music room. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, I take a deep breath. The most beautiful music is coming from within the large room. Wes is turned mostly away from me, I can see his hands on the keys, but not his face. Of course, I’m familiar with the band’s music – you’d have to be deaf to have missed hearing Infusion Deep on the radio. But this is different, more haunting and achingly beautiful. It’s full of longing, and I find myself moving closer. I’m not really a rock fan, but this, this I could listen to all day. Is this the sort of music that Wes prefers? I wonder who wrote it. I’d love to get a copy to listen to.

Wes has his eyes closed, and it gives me a chance to really look at him. He kind of looks like the boy next door on steroids. Just that bit more… his face is more angular, his brows just that bit more arched, his lips just that bit fuller and his eyes, of course, those eyes that take things to an entirely new level. His arms are strong and muscular without being bulky. He’s wearing just a simple white T-shirt and blue jeans. If only he was the boy next door. If only the world didn’t want a piece of him. If only… A sigh escapes me.

Somehow he hears me, and his eyes flick open. I take a step back, my foot hits the cymbal stand. I tumble backwards my arms flailing as I go down amid a crash of cymbals. As the din subsides, I stare stunned at the ceiling, until Wes’s face fills my vision. He looks concerned, not angry, just concerned. It’s the anger I’m expecting so it takes me by surprise.

“Are you hurt?” Wes gently brushes a stray curl from my cheek and my skin flames at his gentle touch.

His reaction is so different to that of my ex boyfriend, for I moment I don’t respond. “Uh…I’m so sorry. I hope I haven’t b-b-broken anything.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Zane never packs anything away properly. Here, let me help you up. Can I touch your back?” Concern fills his eyes. “Will it hurt?”

I guess Autumn has filled him on what happened to me. I won’t have to explain how my ex threw boiling oil over me in a fit of rage. It’s a relief in a way. I hate having to talk about it all the time. I sit up as he gently supports me. “No, it’s fine, my back I mean. It’s just my left arm, and my shoulder, where the skin is still tender.”

Wes squats down so he’s facing me. “Is it okay…to talk about it…I mean, I don’t want to upset you. Especially after, you know, before, when we were outside.”

“Oh no, it’s a relief actually. I’d much rather get it out in the open instead of pretending there’s nothing wrong. Just having everyone stare at me and then look away is the worst.”

Wes’s eyes darken. “That wasn’t what I was looking at. Before, I mean. I just haven’t seen anyone so…um…so beautiful before.”

I laugh self-consciously. He seems so sincere, it’s hard to fathom that he’s lying. But he must be. Just trying to make me feel better, I guess. “Can you help me up?” I ask to mask my discomfort.

Wes stands, takes both hands and gently pulls me to my feet. I can’t help noticing he puts most of the pressure on my good arm. How is it this man is still single? Maybe he’s not interested in just one woman, privileges of being a rock star, I suppose.

“That song was beautiful. What was it? I’d love to get a copy.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just something I was making up to amuse myself.”

“Oh my gosh, you wrote that! Wow, I’m impressed. What else have you written?”

Wes glances out the window, looking embarrassed by my praise. “Finn writes most of the music. I usually just add a few ideas, play around with it a bit.”

“Well, if you can write like that you should record it. I know I’d buy a copy.”

“Thanks, Jemma. That means a lot.” He turns to face me again. “And thank you for agreeing to come here. I’ll feel a lot better about leaving Sophie if I know she’s with someone I can trust.”

“Well thanks. I’m honored that you’d trust me with her. I would never have been able to continue my studies without this job. It was the answer to my prayers.”

“Autumn mentioned something about you studying. What course are you taking?”

“Oh, um I’m doing a postgrad in linguistic anthropology.”

“Wow,” Wes laughs, “can I ask what that is exactly?”

“I know it sounds a bit pretentious, but it’s really just how the language we use affects the way our culture is and how we relate to each other.”

Wes rubs a hand over the slight stubble on his chin. “Well, for someone who barely scraped through high school, I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

“Don’t put yourself down like that. Look at all you’ve achieved, this house, raising your sister, all that amazing music. What do I have? A lousy degree and one suitcase that holds all my worldly possessions. So who’s the smart one, huh?”

“Yeah, well Finn was responsible for our success. I just went along for the ride.”

“You know I talk to Autumn all the time, right? I know exactly what you do for the band and Finn.”

Wes grins cheekily. “Do you even like our music?”

I appreciate him lightening the mood. Things were getting way too serious for our first real face-to-face conversation. “Um, well I don’t hate it…”

“How many Infusion Deep albums do you own?”

“Well, I’m more of a country girl.”

“None right?”

“It’s not that I don’t think your music is good—”

“Hey, it’s fine, I’m just teasing you. But I’m going to get you a copy of all our stuff, that way if anyone asks, you can say you own all our music.”

“Deal.”

“Shake on it?” Wes holds out his hand and this time I gently slide my fingers around his.

The warmth and firmness of his grip is comforting but there’s something else there… something I’m not sure how to define. Our hands shake up and down for a ridiculously long time until we both laugh and let go.

“So I have to ask, do you mind if I spend some time in the garden while you’re away on tour?”

“Of course, mi casa es su casa.”

“I will then, thank you, Wes. I haven’t had a home for a long time.”

“I should mention that Gavin usually comes over twice a week to help with the garden when I’m away or really busy. But there’s always plenty to do, I’m sure he’ll appreciate the help.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for him.”

“Let me know if Sophie gets out of hand too.”

“She seems very sweet.”

“Oh, she is, and full of life. But sometimes she needs a bit of a reality check. She doesn’t always reside in a place I like to call reality.”

I laugh. “Yes, I’ve noticed. But she seems like a lot of fun to be around.”

“That she is and I want to keep her innocence intact for as long as possible.”

“Does she…miss her mother a lot?”

“Come on out to the garden, I’ll show you around while we talk about Soph.”

Wes opens the door that leads out to the patio and down into the lush gardens. And I follow him without hesitation.