Chapter Twenty
“So you survived.”
Jamie had heard the wheels on gravel and glanced out the window, seen the green car, so he was braced.
Or thought he was. When she appeared in the doorway—he’d left it open for air; some of this cleaning stuff would strip your sinuses as well as a dirty floor—he looked up and his breath stopped dead in his throat. In L.A. he’d seen hundreds, probably thousands of women in designer clothes, trendy outfits meant to turn heads. And yet again Zee Mahan beat them all hollow in a simple pair of jeans and that silky shirt that was the exact color of her eyes. Tall, graceful…willowy, Aunt Millie had always said of her.
Even when he could breathe again he didn’t trust his voice so merely nodded.
“How bad was it?”
“Not so. I kind of forgot about Martha, then decided to just let her handle it.”
“So all of Whiskey River knows by now you’re back.”
“Probably.” He smiled ruefully. “Made it easier. At least until I ran into ol’ Charles.”
She grimaced. “He’s enough to ruin anybody’s day.”
“Wonder what made him that way?”
“Ever met his mother?” Zee countered.
“Point taken,” Jamie said, smiling wider now.
She looked around at the array of tools and bottles and buckets he’d accumulated. “You know you’ve duplicated some of the stuff that’s in storage.”
He knew she’d done that, too, gone through Aunt Millie’s things and put anything she thought of value in a storage garage. He swallowed, and with an effort said evenly enough, “I figured. But I wasn’t…ready to face that yet.”
To his relief she merely nodded. “Maybe later?”
“Yeah.” He tried a smile. “You got the chest, though, right?”
Her smile then was soft, loving, but he knew it wasn’t for him, it was for the woman who had left her the large cedar trunk she had treasured as a child. Zee had loved to open it just for the fresh scent, and to trace the delicate roses carved into the top.
“I cried over it for days.”
He didn’t know what to say to that, he who had fought that same deluge for even longer. Avoiding it gives the scar time to form, but it doesn’t change it.
Maybe her way was smarter. Like today, just confronting Martha and getting it over with. Too bad he wasn’t made that way. He didn’t have the kind of emotional strength Zee had. At least, he didn’t anymore, because he no longer had the outlet that had always saved him before.
Even as he dodged the painful thought he was aware he was doing it. He’d always told himself he was just postponing, until he was better able to think clearly, but deep down he was fairly certain that, just like Aunt Millie’s death, postponing thinking about it forever wouldn’t change a thing.
The silenced stretched out, and he grabbed at the first thing that came to mind. “I think I’ll pass on the china cabinet, though.”
Zee laughed. It was real, genuine, and suddenly all his tension drained away. “I can’t imagine you keeping it. So not your style, with all that curlicue stuff.”
In fact, he’d hated the thing from day one, and Zee knew it. “It wasn’t her style, either.”
“But it had been her mother’s. So she kept it.” He hesitated, wondering if she was hiding a jab at him in there. But there wasn’t a trace of an edge in her voice, and she was still smiling. “Good thing you never met the woman, so you don’t have to worry about it.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s old, and in good shape, and I think it was expensive originally. It might be worth something, to people who go for that kind of thing. Maybe you should sell it.”
“Maybe.”
“There’s a consignment place over in Fredericksburg, maybe send him a picture.” She gave him a sideways look, as if assessing. “Might help, if you need the money.” He lifted a brow at her. She shrugged. “I just know hitting it big in the music business isn’t like it was in the old days, when you signed with a record label and had it made.”
“Or got ripped off.”
“That, too. But it’s different now.”
His mouth quirked. “Yeah. Streaming, piracy, kind of took the foundation out from under. But it opened up a lot of doors.”
“Like your internet channel?”
He nodded. That was one thing he’d done right; with Boots’ help he’d had Scorpions established as a presence on the internet before they ever started out on the road. “And some other online outlets. Between that and touring, playing live and selling merch, we did okay. A lot better than okay, actually.”
“And you just walked away from it.”
“Yeah.”
He wasn’t, in fact, broke, far from it. He’d learned that from Aunt Millie as well, and the moment good money had started coming in, he’d started socking a big part of it away, living on a much lower scale than some of his counterparts, and content with it. And it had given him enough now to fund something close to his heart and still get by, which right now was all he wanted.
But the way she was looking at him fired something deep inside, and he asked softly, “Worried about me, Zinnia Rose?”
She frowned, either at the name or the very idea she’d be worried about him. He wondered if he’d done that on purpose, subconsciously, so he wouldn’t be able to tell which.
But then she just shrugged. “Just worried you’re not eating enough.”
“Maybe that’s good. I’m not burning it off on stage every night.”
She looked around the house. “You really think you’re not burning off as much doing this?”
“You got me there,” he said, looking around at the house. Already this morning he’d worked harder—or at least differently—than he had in years. When she fell silent, he studied her for a long moment before asking, “Did you…need something?”
“Just wondered how your venture into town went. And I want to give you this.” She handed him a small key with a plastic tag attached. “For when you’re ready. The tag will get you in the gate. It’s space fifty-three.”
He stared down at the key. The storage space. First the garage, then the car, now this. Zee was handing him back the keys to his old life. Keys she had held, kept safe. For him.
“Unless,” she said, rather too carefully, “you changed your mind and are going back?”
Slowly he shook his head. There’s no reason. Nothing left. But was there anything left here for him, either? Or had both of his lives died?
“So you’re really staying?” she asked, and from her tone realized he’d lapsed into one of those wandering silences. He looked up then, met those vivid blue eyes that had haunted him since the day he’d chased that dream out of Whiskey River.
“I am.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Even if you don’t…like me much.”
She caught the hesitation on the word, and he saw a spark of temper flash in her eyes. “What, you want me to love you?”
A rueful smile curved his mouth, because his mind was yelling “Yes!”
“Don’t worry,” he said aloud. “I know that isn’t going to happen.”
“How would you know?” she said coolly. “You never asked.” Then her expression changed, almost matched his own rueful one. “But then, you never had to before, did you?”
It took him a moment to get past the jagged shard of hope that had sliced into him at her first words. “No. Because I always knew.”
She just looked at him, silently. And he had no more words, nothing to break the silence. It had never been awkward with Zee before, silence. In fact, some of his most treasured memories were of the times they’d been silent together, watching the river, or the clouds, or nothing. Or when they just looked at each other, with no need for words because it was all in their eyes, because it was in their hearts.
He felt a vague twitch, the kind that once would have triggered him to remember those thoughts, those words, and find the right music for them. Hope didn’t even rise in him this time; he knew better by now.
“Well,” Zee said, finally breaking it, “unless you want to go to the storage place now and want moral support, I’ll be on my way.”
“You’d…do that?”
“I wouldn’t want anyone to face that alone.”
And that’s all it was. The kind of favor she’d do for anyone. “The house isn’t ready yet,” he said.
“Then I’ll be off,” she said.
He followed her to the door. She stopped just outside, an odd expression on her face. She was looking out to where the cars were parked, Aunt Millie’s bright red convertible and her own vivid green sedan.
“Nice color combo,” she muttered.
“Dr. Seuss Christmas cars,” he said.
Her head snapped around. She stared at him for a moment. And then she burst out laughing. “Exactly.”
He smiled wider than he had in months. “God, I’ve missed your laugh.” Before she could say something that would ruin the moment he put up a hand. “I know, my own fault. I could have come back sooner.”
“At least to visit,” she agreed. Then, after another glance at the colorful cars, she looked back at him. “But I could have visited you, too.”
“After what you saw in Fort Worth? I didn’t expect you to.”
“About that. Boots told me you never actually…had sex with her.”
He blinked. “He…did?”
“Was he lying? Covering your cute little ass?”
“No. I may have been out of it, but not that far gone. She was Scott’s hookup.”
“No poaching, huh?”
“Never. Not my type anyway.” He took a deep breath, and met her gaze head on. “I got…lonely sometimes. But it never worked.” Because it wasn’t you.
“The lonely rock star?”
“Pretty cliché, huh,” he said wryly. “But it’s true.”
“Why things become cliché, I guess.”
He knew it was the last thing he should say but it came out anyway. “Do you really think my ass is cute?”
She gave him an incredulous look, then rolled her eyes in that very Zee way. “Me and a few million others. Male and female.”
“But yours is the opinion that counts.”
She gave him a different sort of look, one he couldn’t interpret. She twirled her key ring in her hand. “Cute enough to kiss. Or kick,” she said.
And then she was gone, headed for the car, leaving him still searching for a comeback as she drove away.