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We ran over the song I’d been working on for the last two days and nailed the ending. She was right. The D minor was perfect. It lent that little bit of melancholy I’d been missing. Then I tossed her the lyrics I’d written.
“What are these?” She shot me a questioning look and grabbed the notebook.
“What do they look like?”
“Don’t be a dick.” She made a face and studied the words. “What do you want me to do with these?”
I began playing. “Sing them. Make them work.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not…” She shook her head and would have put the guitar down, but I stopped her cold.
“You tone deaf?”
“No.”
“Got laryngitis?”
“Seriously?” She sighed and settled back a bit. It took every fucking thing in me not to stare at her chest. Trust me, it was hard. I could see the outline of her nipples, the soft pink of them, and I suddenly wondered what she was wearing underneath my sleep pants.
“What’s going on here?” she asked. “Why are we doing this? Why do you want me to do this?”
“Humor me. Come up with the melody while I play.” I paused. “Unless I’m too intimidating. Unless you’re too scared.”
“As if.” She glared at me and practically growled, “Play the damn song.”
I hid a smile—didn’t want to piss her off too much—and began to play. I’d written the music around a bunch of lyrics I’d scribbled in my notebook over a year ago. It had been at the end of a long tour, and I was missing my place in Tennessee. The gas tank was empty, and I felt like I had nothing left to give. I’d ended a relationship that sucked, but instead of feeling good about it, I felt nothing. Whiskey and pills had been a staple of my diet, and I’m not proud to admit I dabbled in a lot of each. I’d been in a bad place, and the lyrics were about finding a way out. About me finding my way back. I thought I had the song down, but I’d always felt like I was missing something.
Maybe Echo was the key to making the song work.
I ran through the intro and played a few more chords before she joined in. And let me tell you, I think the world damn near stopped turning. I’d never heard Echo sing, but she had the same whiskey-soaked vocal cords that her dad did. The same ear for notes and feel and cadence. I listened to her wrap her talent around my words and music, and something inside me broke apart. It splintered into a hundred million pieces of light. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. Echo Mansfield made me feel something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Hope. Wonder. Excitement.
I closed my eyes, and she took me on a ride, my fingers making the music, her voice making magic. I joined in on the last bit, our voices harmonized like they were making goddamn love to each other.
* * *
I only want to breathe again
To close my eyes and sleep
But in the dark of midnight
My soul it just won’t keep
If only I could find my way back
And have you in my arms
I’d rest forever in your peace
And shelter from the storm
* * *
