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Presley’s features softened. “I’m going home tomorrow and I’m going to publish an article about Cash Sutherland, the man. A man who is dedicated to his craft, his family and his friends. I’m going to share your writing process and what it was like to be there when inspiration struck you in the middle of dinner. Or while you’re making coffee in the morning.” She blushed when she added, “And other times, but I won’t share those. Not with anyone.
“I’m going to show your fans you’re more than a sex symbol or an award-winning performer.” Her hand flattened on his chest. “I’m going to show them you. The real you. And when they see that, they’re going to forget about the mug shot and the bogus DUI. And if they don’t forget, they won’t care. Not once they see the guy beneath the glitz.”
His heart sank. The longer she talked, the more sincere she sounded, and the worse she made everything. She had no idea how hard she was making it for him to let her go when all he wanted to do was beg her to stay. How could he ask her to trust him again after how badly he’d abused that trust? Simple. He couldn’t.
“Don’t forget the part about how I walk on water,” he muttered.
Her gentle touch, her profession that she loved his song and forbade he change a word of it, was too much to take. Especially when a profession dwelled deep inside him—an “I love you” he wouldn’t dare speak.
No matter how sweet her words were, or how true the sentiment behind them, he knew she wouldn’t take a chance on him again. The hell of it was, he couldn’t blame her. A few weeks of bliss wasn’t enough to erase years of hurt. She’d built her own life, separate from his, and she deserved to live it. Even if he could coax her into coming back for good like he sang in his new song, he wouldn’t make her choose between him and her dreams. Hadn’t he been selfish enough for a lifetime?
“Do you hear me?” She had to know he’d heard every word she’d said since he hadn’t taken his eyes off her yet. “I’m not writing about ‘Lightning’ and if you like, I’ll call Heather Bell and personally apologize. I’m not going to out whoever you wrote that song about, Cash. I...care about you. I have always cared about you.”
And he cared about her—still. He’d laid himself bare in “Back for Good.” He’d written snippets of it when Presley was in his bed, in his arms. When she’d been sunbathing on his deck. He’d been consumed and inspired and, what was the word? Oh, right. Stupid. He’d been stupid to pretend for a second he could allow this fairy tale to go on.
“Cash, honey,” this from his mother. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”
His mom wasn’t the least bit sorry, but evidently he wasn’t going to have the chance to finish this damn conversation without interruption.
“We’re coming,” Presley called cheerily, snatching his hand and dragging him to the table.
“Finally!” Gavin said, reaching for the potato salad.
“Not yet,” Travis scolded. “Grace.”
While his father said grace, Cash bowed his head, but he wasn’t paying attention to the prayer. He’d been arriving at a decision. Tonight, once he returned to his house with Presley, he’d tell her the truth.
It was time for the fantasy to end. She wanted to know the inspiration behind “Lightning”? He’d tell her. She could share it with the world and claim the prize at work. It was the least he owed her for leaving her in the dust years ago. And, if he were being honest with himself, it wasn’t only his secret. It was hers to do with what she wanted.
He’d leave out the part where he still regretted leaving her. He wouldn’t admit he knew he’d ruined his one shot. And he sure as shit wasn’t going to tell her that “Back for Good” was inspired by what could have been. It was a great song, but he’d see to it that it never saw the light of day.
He’d do that for her. Because of what he’d seen shimmering in her eyes as she’d begged him not to change a word of that song.
Love.
He saw it now, and he’d seen it on the couch yesterday. While they’d spent long, intimate moments together as it rained cats and dogs. He’d felt it, too, eating into him. It was heavy and undeniable, but he had to deny it.
He’d had his shot. His flash. Like his own song said, lightning never struck the same place twice. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness for the mistake he made years ago. Arguably he hadn’t deserved her company while she was here.
Whatever chance they might’ve had was over. He refused to hurt her twice.
