I did, in fact, probably know what she said, but I remained silent.
“She said she didn’t care about any of that. Said we’re both adults and our personal shit is our own business and no one else’s. So, tell me, Scarlett, why can’t you finish the damn article?”
“I told you, there’s just some things—”
“I don’t care about any of it. Nothing that you tell me would ever change the way I feel about you.” He dropped his head into his palms, rubbing his face in frustration.
“You don’t know that, Stetson,” I reassured him even as I shuddered at the thought. “But what I do know is that you don’t need me. Not to finish the article and not to finish this album. Everything you’ve done so far, you’ve done on your own. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, and the sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He directed his pointer finger at me before waving it back and forth. “You’ve bunked up inmy head, making yourself a permanent resident up here.” He pushed his finger to his temple. “I couldn’t evict you even if I wanted to, and just to be clear, I don’t.”
“You know something I don’t get, even after spending so much time with you?”
My comment piqued his interest. “Let’s hear it.”
“Why someone like you would ever choose to be with someone like me.”
Without even taking a breath, he said, “You’re not serious, are you?”
“I am,” I pleaded. “It doesn’t make sense.” I shook my head back and forth. “You could quite literally have any person you wanted. Why me?”
I was proud of just coming out and saying what I’d wanted to say for a while now. I knew if I didn’t do it now, I might not ever get the chance to, but I was still terrified for his response.
The muscles in his jaw tightened as he struck a stern look in my direction. “Have you ever thought that maybe it’s not the big things that stand out?” he asked, before continuing without giving me a chance to respond. “It’s all the little things that no one else notices that makes me absolutely fucking crazy about you.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, curiosity getting the best of me.
“I mean that you, Scarlett, are like the stars. You’re bright and mysterious, and somehow, you’re always there even when I can’t see you. You constantly see beauty in all the things that others look right past. The way you continuously shine brighter when you’re doing things for other people. The way you speak your mind, especially in situations where everyone else is too scared to. The way you think you hide your fears and vulnerabilities, when in reality you wear them like a badge of honor on your sleeve.” He chuckled, rubbing his mustache. “And it’s the way your mouth curls up on the right side of your face when you wantto smile but you’re trying your damnedest not to. Just like you are now.”
My finger automatically found the ring on my finger, fidgeting with it while I tried to scrape together a response.
“Did you ever consider that maybe you’re not afraid of scaring me away with whatever you’re keeping from me, but rather you’re afraid it might pull me closer to you?” he pondered.
Stetson had shown me on more than one occasion that he was a deep thinker, that his smart-ass mouth was only a small part of who he was, and he really did have a depth to him that I assumed most people had never had the chance to see.
“Little by little, you’ve shown me what you fear the most is letting people in, lettingmein. It terrifies you, that much is clear. And I know I haven’t carried the same kind of heartbreak as you, but I have been heartbroken, and at first, the thought of even considering letting someone new in almost took me out. It felt like self-sabotage, like I was just asking to feel the pain of heartbreak again.”
“Well, that’s because it is self-sabotage,” I pushed. “And to jump into bed with someone like you and expect something more than a random hookup would, quite frankly, make me a little idiotic, don’t you think?”
“Quite the opposite, in fact. I think it makes you stronger than you would ever give yourself credit for. Is heartbreak scary and overwhelming? Sure. But you know what’s scarier? Thinking about living a life and having no one to share with.” His hand dropped on top of mine. “After losing Jackson, I spent months telling myself I’d never get that close to someone again. But then I slowly began to realize that the memories we shared were worth every single ounce of pain, and I would’ve happily gone through it again if that meant I could spend even one more day with him.” The softness in his voice was still laced with sorrow. “If you spend the rest of your life protecting your heart fromeveryone else, you’re only going to end up breaking it yourself,” he said.
For a moment, a blip in time, everything stood still around us, almost as if someone had pressed the pause button. Our eyes glued to one another, silent communication bouncing between us.
I wanted to find fault in his words, to argue with what he was saying and prove him wrong, but the truth was that he was right—except for one thing.
“At this point, I’m more worried about breaking your heart than breaking my own.” The words themselves sounded like tiny cracks as they slipped from my lips.
He pulled his hand from the top of mine, interlacing his own two hands before dropping his head and nodding it up and down.
“I can see I’m not going to change your mind, at least not today.” The defeat invaded his face. “I have a gig in Nashville next month and it would mean a lot to me if you came. I can’t force you to finish the article, I can’t force you to tell me what you’re so afraid to tell me, and I can’t force you to give me a chance, but what I can do is ask you to come support a friend.”
Nothing about my and Stetson’s situation depicted a normal friendship, but he’d never just come out and asked me for something like this. The sadness in eyes, the droop of his mouth, and the depths of the wrinkles on his face were almost enough to say yes.Almost.
“I’ll think about it,” I said softly.
“Thank you,” he said, standing and pushing back in his chair before leaving me and heading for the front door of the coffee shop.
“And Stetson?” I called out. “They’re lyrics,” I said, holding up my journal. “You’re not the only one who can be inspired.” Ioffered a smile hoping he’d smile back, but all I got was a half-assed lopsided smirk.
