The Right Song Page 16

  He ignores me. “Which songs suck?”

  I lean against the wall with my arms crossed. “He doesn’t like any of the last ones I wrote.”

  “Humph…” he murmurs. It makes me wonder what he’s thinking.

  I make to ask when he says, “These are all about coming out of your shell and living life without restrictions.”

  I drop my hands and inch closer to the bed. “So? I told you, I want to write upbeat songs that are positive.”

  “But what about a love song?” he asks, piercing me with those soul-stealing eyes again.

  I have to look at my feet to compose my thoughts. “Those are much harder to write.”

  He huffs a laugh then pushes up to the headboard, resting his back against it as he sets my songbook on the side table. “The one you sang to me by the tracks didn’t sound like it was hard to write. What about the one from my birthday?”

  “You told me not to sing ‘Safe’ again,” I remind him.

  “I told you to make sure you mean the words when you do. Anyways, I’m sure you could easily write a love song.”

  “How so?”

  “Cause you’re dating Milo. Don’t girls write love letters and such when they’re dating?”

  “I’m not dating Milo,” I hear myself say. “And I don’t write love letters. That’s beyond played out, not to mention cheesy.”

  Daegan rolls his eyes and plays with his silver ring. I notice he’s wearing that leather band on his wrist, too. It seems he never takes it off—perhaps to hide his scars.

  I sit on the edge of the bed, wanting to ask about it, but still feeling like it’s not my place. That’s too personal, no matter how curious I am.

  When I meet his gaze, I realize that he caught me staring at his wrist. He glances at it, then looks back at me.

  “You want to know, don’t you?” he says, picking at the band.

  “I’m sorry for staring, I just—”

  “It’s when she tried to kill me,” he says calmly. “Remember I told you my mother wanted to take me with her? That’s how she was going to do it.”

  I hug myself to keep from shivering. “How can you say something like that so… lightly?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess because we’re friends, and we’re connected in ways that you don’t even know.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I look at him confused. “Like how?”

  Daegan slides over to the side of the bed, never taking his eyes off me. He parts his lips to say something, when suddenly the sound of the front door opening interrupts him.

  “Why are all the lights on?” Aunt Leah mumbles. “Rora, you up?”

  Shit!

  My heart starts to pound. I have a guy in my room that she’s never met. She’s totally going to freak out.

  I grip his arm and tow him over to the window, whispering frantically, “You have to climb down.”

  He looks at me as if I’m mad. I beg, “Please.”

  Daegan peers out the window then glances back at me. “Seriously?”

  “Yes!” I urge.

  My heart speeds up even more when I hear Aunt Leah’s footsteps coming up the stairs.

  He swivels to go out the window, but before he climbs down, he turns and rests his hands on my shoulders, giving me a quick peck on the cheek.

  He removes his hands and slips out the window. I’m left crippled in spot. What the hell was that?

  “Rora?” Aunt Leah knocks on my door before peeking inside. “How was your session today? Any progress?”

  “Yeah, a lot of progress,” I whisper.

  She enters and scans my room, picking up a t-shirt off the footboard. It makes me notice all the other shit I have thrown on the floor. Geez. Daegan must be thinking what a pig I am. But more importantly, he kissed me on the cheek. Daegan’s soft lips just grazed my face and I liked it.

  Aunt Leah touches my arm. “You okay, honey?”

  I meet her worried gaze and nod. “Yeah, everything’s fine… great even.”

  25.

  Daegan’s sweet peck stays on my mind throughout the rest of the night, in my dreams, and while I’m in the studio the next day. There were several moments when I’d stop to touch my face and reminisce on the way it felt when I should have been focusing on finishing this song. Then again, he’s the one who inspired me to write it.

  Luke is setting up his equipment, so I use the time to rework the chorus and say a silent prayer that he’ll like it.

  “You good?” he asks once he has everything ready to go.

  I sit on the cushioned stool in front of the microphone and nod at him.

  “This one’s a bit mid-tempo, and it’s different from the others.”

  “How so?” he probes.

  I swallow hard before I answer, “It’s actually… um… it’s a love song.”

  He bobs his head. “Is it personal?”

  My eyes expand. I ramble, “No… anyone can rela—”

  “Then you won’t sound convincing,” he cuts me off. “Sing another one.”

  I guess I have to be honest with him. “Okay, yes, it’s personal.”

  A smug grin spreads across his lips. “Good. Go ahead then.”

  Like I always do before I start any song, I take a deep breath, relax myself into the words, and let them flow out of me naturally.

  By the time I finish singing ‘If You Stay’, I’m left in nothing but silence. I look over at the screen and notice Luke is staring at me in awe. His mouth is wide open and his hand is frozen on the mixer.

  “Do you like it?” I check, feeling nervous.

  He catches his breath and waves me out of the booth.

  When I walk outside, he blurts out, “That’s the song! Aurora Law, that song will secure your deal!”

  I cover my mouth with one hand, fighting back the emotions. “Are you sure?” I ask in a shaky voice.

  He cocks his head to the side and looks at me as if I’m crazy. “Yes I’m sure. That’s going to be a hit, girlie. I feel it.”

  Luke lifts both hands in the air and faces his palms toward me. “Throw them up!”

  Tipping on the toes of my sneakers, I high-five him then collapse on the loveseat as he plays the song over and over.

  “All that’s left is to get your friends in here so we can arrange the music. Aside from that, it’s perfect!” he enthuses.

  I continue to watch him, overly excited for this song. Then I feel my phone vibrate in my jeans pocket. I slide it out and glance at the screen. I have one missed call from Milo. The excitement fizzles.

  Oh no! I forgot to cancel lunch with him.

  I step out of the studio to call him back.

  “Hey,” he answers on the second ring, sounding calm. “I tried to call you this morning but got no answer, then when I went by your house to pick you up there was no one at home. What’s up?”

  “Milo, I’m so sorry. I forgot to tell you I had to come into the studio today.”

  “Oh, I see. Don’t worry about it. That’s more important,” he replies flatly.

  “But, I feel bad because I probably gave your parents the wrong impression,” I say, considering the fact that they expected me, and I didn’t even bother to cancel.

  Milo pauses a moment before he says, “Well you can make it up by having dinner with me later.”

  I smile halfheartedly, remembering Daegan’s peck on the cheek instead of staying focused on Milo.

  After a second, he confirms, “Is that all right?”

  I zap back to my senses. “Uh… sure… yeah… I’ll call you when I’m done here.”

  “Cool. I’ll see you tonight then,” he says before hanging up.

  In no time the guys show up to help out with the music. As predicted, they love the song. It’s a different concept from what they’re used to me writing for Days End, but they like it nonetheless.

  It’s almost ten when we finish up for the day, and I wonder if Milo will still want to hang out. I’m surprised he says yes when I call.
<
br />   We meet up at El Patron for a quick meal, and then go for a walk, ending up at Stanhope Park. It’s awfully quiet tonight, not a soul strolling nearby. I amble over to the pavilion in the middle of the park. Milo follows behind, leaning against the railing as he keeps a watchful eye on me.

  I stand across from him with my back pressed against the column. “Sorry again about today. Recording seems to distract me from everything else in my life.”

  He grins. “Yeah, I guess I have to get used to that since you’re a rising star.”

  Feeling shy, I glance away from him and look out at the trees, lightly swaying in the breeze.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse Milo edging closer, decreasing the distance between us. I can smell his strong, earthy cologne. But unlike that night at Lights Out, the scent has been making me feel overwhelmed since we were at the restaurant earlier.

  “Sing for me,” he requests.

  I meet his gaze again. “Now?”

  He nods, waiting patiently. For some reason, I’m never brave enough to sing just for Milo. There’s something that holds me back.

  “I… can’t… it’s… I don’t know,” I ramble on.

  The expression on his face switches from happy to plain confused. He crooks a brow and inches even closer.

  “So you can sing for a crowd in a bar, at our village festival, and for everyone else who gets to sit in those recording sessions with you, but you have a hard time singing for me alone? I don’t get it.”

  My heart begins to wallop as he leans in and rests his hands on both my sides, caging me in. I back up against the railing, nervous.

  This is dangerously close and I wonder if he’s going to do what I suspect he will.

  “Uh,” he exhales, never taking his eyes away from mine. “You know what I think?”

  I turn my head slowly. “What?”

  Lifting one hand, he brushes his warm fingers against my cheek. My knees feel weak. I fear I might faint from the intensity.

  “I think you like me so much that you’re shy to sing for only me,” he says, moving in for a kiss.

  I close my eyes and lower my head in the opposite direction, preparing to taste the soft lips that I’ve craved for so long.

  But all of a sudden I lose my balance against the railing and stagger a bit. I feel a thud at the back of my head as I hit it against the wood.

  “Ow,” I groan.

  Milo straightens, surprised. “Are you okay?” He touches my hand at the back of my head.

  “Yeah.” I laugh at myself. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit of a klutz.”

  “It’s okay. You’re cute.” He steps back, smiling at me. I feel like an idiot for ruining the moment. No kiss for me tonight, I guess.

  Shortly after, we walk back to our cars parked close by. I open the door and get in around the steering wheel, starting the engine.

  Milo bends down at my window. “Listen, why don’t we just hang out when you’re finished recording your demo, cool?”

  I smile at him for being so understanding. “Okay,” I reply.

  “I’ll talk to you then,” he says and straightens.

  I watch as he walks over to his car and take off as soon as he slips inside.

  The possibility of being kissed by Milo Whitmore keeps me smiling for the entire drive home, but the moment I reach my front door, I remember Daegan’s peck on my cheek. I can’t help wonder, if a peck from him rattled me so much, then how would his kiss feel?

  I slap my cheeks lightly and enter the front door. There’s no way that will happen. Daegan is a friend. Milo is the one I want.

  26.

  I don’t go to the studio on Sunday because there’s another artist working on his independent album. I use the day as time to relax from music since I have two songs down. I could go with those alone for my demo or use next week to record more. Either way, there’s no rush.

  That afternoon, I drive out to Mound Hill Cemetery to visit my parents’ gravesite. I feel an extra pang of joy in my chest when I pull up at the gates and see Daegan’s car parked outside. But that little joy morphs into confusion when I find him by my parents’ graves, leaving a bouquet of flowers.

  “It’s you doing this,” I gasp.

  Daegan looks up at me, surprised. He straightens to his feet and walks up to me, searching his brain but doesn’t utter a word.

  So I ask, “Why are you leaving flowers for my parents?”

  Sticking his hands inside his jeans pockets, he glances down at his feet and keeps his gaze from mine.

  “Because I feel I have to,” he answers.

  “I don’t understand.”

  He peers up at my face now. I feel a tug at my heart when I look into his saddened eyes.

  After a long pause he says, “There’s something I have to tell you, something that I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time.”

  I wrinkle a brow, baffled, and a little worried. He kissed me on the cheek last night, so does he want to tell me now that he’s liked me all these years? Is that why he’s bringing flowers to my parents’ graves? He thinks it’ll score points with me?

  Oh my gosh. If that’s the case, how will I respond?

  Ugh! I shake off the thoughts. “Just tell me.”

  “You have to promise we’ll still be friends,” he says in a plea, his eyes yearning.

  Okay. So it’s not a confession.

  “Sure,” I reply in a near whisper. “I’m seriously curious now. Tell me.”

  He blows out a razor-sharp breath before he says, “What do you know about the night of the crash?”

  I shrug. “Only that the other driver lost control and collided with my parents’ car.”

  Daegan shakes his head. “I guess they never did figure out the real reason,” he says under his breath.

  “What are you talking about? The other guy—”

  “No,” he cuts me off, “It wasn’t him.”

  The look in his eyes is scaring me. “Okay, how do you know that? You weren’t there.”

  “Because,” he pauses for a beat, fighting with himself. “I was there, Aurora. It was my brother who caused the crash.”

  My forehead creases, not understanding. “Your brother?” I whisper, trying to remember everything from that night, but all I hear are my parents’ panicked screams and all I see are blaring headlights before total blackout.

  “He was standing by the road, waiting for the opportunity,” he explains in a rasped, shaky voice.

  I meet his gaze, repeating, “Opportunity?”

  Daegan blurts out, “To walk out into the street—to kill himself!”

  A soft whimper escapes my lips. I cover my mouth and back away from him. Daegan steps forward and tries to touch me. I move out of his reach, gasping, “Your brother… killed… my parents.”

  “I’m so sorry, Aurora.” Remorse is peppered in his voice, but I don’t want to hear it.

  I feel a sharp pain in my heart. His brother caused the crash that took my parents’ lives and I’ve been friends with Daegan all this time.

  A single tear falls down my cheek. I turn around and wipe it away fast. I won’t let him see me cry.

  He comes up to my back and grips my arms. I writhe out of his grasp, yelling, “Don’t touch me!”

  I look at him sideways with anger in my eyes. I say through clenched teeth, “What’s with your family? They all want to kill themselves.”

  His jaw twitches. He balls his fingers into tight fists. I know my words sting, but I don’t stop there.

  “You know what, I think you lied. I think you tried to kill yourself and blamed it on your mother because you didn’t want everyone to see you for who you really are.”

  Daegan huffs a sarcastic laugh. “Oh yeah, and what’s that?”

  I straighten and tilt my chin up, and without considering the deep hurt that my words will inflict on him, I blurt out, “That you’re a screwed up kid from a screwed up family!”

  He presses his eyes shut and swallows hard. When he opens
them again, there’s nothing but emptiness that glares back at me.

  “Thank you,” he whispers, walking past me and out the gates.

  My words hang in the air. I look over at my parents’ graves, and suddenly I feel like crap. No matter how upset I am, I shouldn’t have said something so horrible.

  It’s not his fault.

  I scurry out the gates and search for his car. Daegan’s already gone. I hop inside the Volvo and turn the keys. Maybe I should call him and apologize. But when I take out my phone, I can’t bring myself to do it.

  My pride won’t let me.

  It’s probably better this way. I can’t be friends with the guy whose brother killed my parents. My heart won’t let that detail slide.

  It can’t.

  But as I reach home and walk like a zombie up the stairs to my room, I drop down on my bed and cry. Crying so hard because I miss my parents and everything I’ve known about the crash hasn’t been the whole truth. But even more so, I’m crying because I’ve hurt Daegan, and I’m crying because the thought of not having him in my life hurts deeper than I’d imagined.

  He was right. We are connected. But how can we be friends when we’re linked in such a tragic way?

  In spite of my crappy mood, I drive over to Emma’s to hang out and possibly take my mind off Daegan.

  “So, I’ve been learning about Photoshop,” she says as I sit down on the side of her bed and watch her on the laptop. She brings the program up on the screen.

  “I was thinking we could take some photos for your social media pages. I’ve already uploaded shots from the festival, but we need some personal shots of you.”

  I lie flat on my back and let out a gush of air. “I don’t feel like taking pictures right now,” I tell her.

  Emma gets off the chair and comes over to the bed, tapping my leg. “Okay, tell me what happened. Is it Milo?”

  “No,” I answer lowly.

  “So what is it? I know something’s up. You looked like the grim reaper when you arrived earlier,” she jokes.

  I roll on my side and cuddle her pillow up to my chest. “Ems… I found out something today that hurts a lot.”

  “Oh wow, what happened?”