Chapter 45

Adelaide

“I have to admit,” Gabe says as he holds open the passenger door of his car for me, “I never really thought we’d be doing this.”

I smile and nod, but give no voice to the conversation. I’m not one to waste words or make excuses, but each time it came down to finalizing date plans with him, I found something that prevented it. I don’t even want to be here tonight, but I’ve run out of excuses, and my mother is driving me crazy.

“So, you graduate in a couple weeks?” he asks as he settles into the driver’s seat and buckles his seatbelt.

“Seventeen days.” I smile at him. “Not that I’m counting or anything.”

“What are your plans after?” His questions may seem like polite conversation while we drive to our destination, but I know his family better than he must realize.

“I’ve got a few things in the works.” I won’t give him more. I haven’t told my parents yet about my graduate studies. If I had, Gabe would already know.

“You graduate soon also, right?”

He nods. “I do, and, of course, I plan to come back to work with your dad.” He hits his blinker, heading into downtown. “Any clue when he plans to retire?”

That didn’t take long.

“We haven’t discussed it, but I imagine it won’t be for a while. He’s still pretty young.”

“Hmmm,” he hums his response.

“Where are we going?” I ask when he pulls into a parking lot manned by a guy in an orange reflective vest. He pays the man and finds a spot on the far end of the lot. We park in darkness, away from the streetlights even though there are closer, better lit spots available.

“Don’t want the car to get dinged when some drunk dude swings his door too wide,” he explains, sensing my concern.

Music plays in the wind, but that doesn’t hint at where we’re headed. This is Georgia, country music can be heard everywhere at any time.

“There’s this little pub I wanted to check out,” he explains as he pulls my door open for me.

“Pub? As in a bar?” I stop in my tracks as he tries to guide me with his hand on my back. “That’s not really my scene.”

He’s too close, and I’m already doubting this date. As if he has no understanding of personal space, his hand moves, rubbing back and forth near the top of my jeans.

“It’ll be fun.”

I nod and begin walking again, if only to get out of the darkness. I should’ve know better than to agree to this. He gave me the creeps in my own parents’ house, I shouldn’t be surprised to feel that tenfold outside alone with him.

“No,” I tell him as he opens the door to the bar. “You can stay. I’ll just catch a cab back to the house.”

I try not to look at the flyer showcasing tonight’s lineup. I don’t want to look into Axton’s eyes from the paper taped to the door much less go inside and listen to that smoky voice as it pulls me in.

“Come on,” he says, urging me with a little more force. “They have live music.”

I can’t think of an alternative excuse, so I let him guide me inside. My teeth grind together when I see he was nice enough to reserve a table, right up front, so close, there’s no way I’ll be able to avoid the man I’ve been trying to force, unsuccessfully, out of my mind since he showed up at the hospital a little under two months ago.

“What would you like to drink?” It’s whispered in my ear. I can smell the cinnamon gum on his breath. I loathe cinnamon gum. Leaning in to hear him is pointless. The woman singing on stage is nearing the end of a slow, melodic song, and the room is fairly quiet.

“Just water is fine,” I offer, pulling one of the tall chairs out from the table in an effort to get away from him.

“You’re old enough for a real drink, Adelaide. I’m driving. Let loose a little tonight.”

In your wildest dreams.

“Water is fine,” I reiterate. He frowns and walks toward the bar.

I pull out my phone while he’s away and shoot off a text to Mandy. She’s going to have to figure out a way to get me out of here. There’s no way I’m leaving this place with him. Mom always told me to trust my instincts, and the alarm bells are ringing in my head.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” Ugh. Gabe slides a glass of ice water close to my elbow and takes the seat beside mine.

“Thank you.”

My attention is pulled from him as the female singer walks off the stage, having finished her set, and the emcee announces Axton Lane.

“You know him, right?”

“Excuse me?” My head whips around to look at him. “How would you know that?”

What has he heard? Has Renee once again thrown me under the bus and told my parents Axton and I spent a night together? This is Marcus all over again, but only the creepy serial killer version.

He shrugs, as nonchalant as he can manage, but I can tell by the fire in his eyes he brought me here for a reason. Being here on a night Axton is playing isn’t accidental or kismet.

“I saw some posts. He had a picture of you two together as his profile picture for a long time. It was months ago, though.”

“We were friends,” I say in explanation. I don’t owe him any more than that.

When Axton takes the stage, the crowd goes wild, especially with the fawning women all vying for his attention. Getting kicked off Laci Devine’s tour doesn’t seem to have affected his local fan base. He smiles into the audience, looking out but not really seeing anyone. I try to hide my face behind the small glass of water as his eyes sweep from left to right.

They rush past me at first, but come right back, as if I’m waving a flag over my head. A soft smile plays on his lips until he sees the guy sitting beside me. The thick swallow of his throat makes me realize he’s thinking of the lie I told him. He must think I’ve been dating Gabe this whole time. The notion makes my heart ache.

He holds my gaze, silently staring as I drink him in. He’s fresh, dressed in crisp jeans and a button-down shirt rolled up to his elbows. His forearms, always having been one of my favorite things, flex when he moves his guitar to his lap. The beard is gone, the sexy stubble he wears so well back in place. He looks good, great even.

I feel the need to explain, to tell him I lied, to inform him I’m not dating anyone and haven’t since Marcus last year.

“I think I’m going to change things up a bit tonight.” His sultry voice washes over me, goosebumps racing down my skin despite the heat surrounding us. “Going to go back to my roots and sing a couple songs that mean more to me now than they ever have.”

The groups of girls on either side of our table hoot and holler like they’re at a rave rather than some podunk bar in the middle of Georgia.

He strums his guitar, finally pulling his eyes from mine to look down at his hands. I can’t tell whether he’s forgotten the chords or is trying to gain his composure, but he’s silent almost long enough that the crowd begins to grow restless. They settle immediately when the first verse of “Make You Miss Me” by Sam Hunt slides from his perfect lips.

Just like the night at the bonfire when he sang to me, he doesn’t pull his eyes from mine. I’m trapped, locked in his stare and attention as he sings. Every word of the song doesn’t match what we had, but the sentiment is there, and I know exactly what he’s trying to say. If only he knew no effort on his part is required to make me miss him, make me long for him in a way I never thought possible.

I sense Gabe shifting in his seat, just now realizing I’m not actually sitting here alone.

“He’s rude,” he mutters. “It’s almost like he knows what you look like naked because he’s envisioning it right now.”

I feel Gabe’s arm wrap around the back of my chair, and less than a minute later, it’s resting on my shoulder, tracing the curve of my arm with his fingertips.

I take another sip of my water, hoping the shift of my body makes him drop his hand. It doesn’t. If anything, he moves in closer.

Axton flows from Sam Hunt to “Wake Up Loving You” by Old Dominion seamlessly, and I hate the implication that he took other women to bed even though he cared for me. The first song wasn’t spot on, but I have a feeling there’s more truth in this one.

I’m trembling. Half from Gabe touching me without permission or even any indication I want him to, and the other half from the emotion seeing Axton and having him sing to me brings.

When he begins “Man Enough Now” by Chris Bandi, I can’t take it any longer.

“Excuse me,” I tell Gabe, sliding out from under his arm. “I need to run to the restroom. Be right back.”

I don’t go right back, though. I spend at least five minutes sending SOS texts to my middle sister. They go unanswered, so I order an Uber and try to catch my breath. I have a thirty-minute wait time, and I hate the idea of spending that much time with Gabe creeping up on me and Axton singing love songs from his soul. Tears sting my eyes as Axton’s voice carries through every time another woman enters or leaves the restroom.

“That boy loves you.” I look up from my phone to catch an older woman reapplying her lipstick in the mirror.

“I’m sorry?”

“Love, sweetheart. That boy on stage hasn’t pulled his eyes from you for a second. Hell, he’s out there right now staring at the door waiting for you to emerge.” She gives me a wink. “Don’t keep him waiting.”

“Lay Low” by Josh Turner drifts in when she walks out.