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Not like you two, I can almost hear Chloe say, but she knows better than to do so. You can put two amazing singers in a room, and they wouldn’t be able to harmonize no matter how much you paid them. But Harrison and I… as bad as things got in our personal lives, we were able to harmonize. At least in the beginning.
“That’s too bad.” I wish I could say I’m happy to hear about his latest string of bad luck with his band, but when you cheat on your wife for years, thinking she’ll never find out, you’re in for a rude awakening. The wife will always find out, and I did so the hard way, walking in on them going at it like bunnies inside our tour bus. It was the last time I performed onstage with him.
“Screw Harrison. JB could put you in as a surprise act,” Chloe says as I let Sarge sniff around. We should head back to the camper , but the poor thing has been cooped up for hours.
“Do what you need to do, but I’ve got to put Sarge back in the camper and call Roadside Assistance before it gets–”
I don’t see the movement in the sagebrush until Sarge bolts after it, knocking me over the prickly brush before I have the presence of mind to let go of his leash. I must have screamed or shouted in surprise (or cursed) because Chloe screams my name in my ear.
Oh my God, Dev, are you okay? What happened? Should I call the police?
I bring my hand to my right ear and realize that an earbud is gone, but I can still hear her on my left.
“I have to go.” I get up and flick dried leaves and thorns stuck to my skin. I curse under my breath when my fingers encounter something slick along my forearms. Blood. Great. But I can’t worry about that, for I need to catch my dog before he runs across the highway.
I finally catch sight of Sarge in the distance, his leash stuck in the brush. By the time I get to him, a truck is parked on the side of the highway, and a man is untangling his leash from the brush.
“Thank you. I can take it from–” The words get caught in my throat when he turns around, cerulean blue eyes widening when he sees me.
You can also put two of the most incompatible people in the world together—one who can’t hold a tune and one who can—and they can make beautiful music together.
His dark blond hair is no longer as long as he used to wear it, and tattoos are covering his arms where the skin used to be bare. But that was ten years ago before I chose fame over love.
And then there are his eyes, deep blue like the ocean he used to surf in every morning.
“Todd?”
If he’s surprised to see me, he doesn’t show it as he grips Sarge’s leash.
“What’s your dog’s name?” he asks as Sarge runs toward me, his tail wagging happily like he didn’t almost give me a heart attack.
“Sarge,” I reply as he hands me the leash. “I’m so sorry about all this. He’s usually well-behaved, but something must have caught his eye back there. He’s also pretty young, not yet two years old.”
“He’s a good boy, and I’m glad he didn’t run into….” Todd stops as his gaze lands on my arm, and he frowns. “You’re bleeding.”
As he steps toward me, I can’t miss the sudden racing of my heart.Has it really been ten years?
“I’ll be okay,” I stammer. “I’ve got bandages.”
“I’ve got a First Aid kit in my truck, and it’s right here. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He pulls open the passenger door. “Do you mind if we put him in the cab? Don’t want to risk him getting away again.”
Before I can refuse, Sarge jumps into his truck and settles in the back seat.
“Sure.”
With Sarge’s leash tied loosely to the grab handle, Todd has me sit on the passenger seat while he pulls out a First Aid kit from the glove compartment. He checks out my arm, cleaning the skin with one alcohol wipe after another despite my grimaces.
“You haven’t changed much,” I say, taking the opportunity to observe him dress my wound. More like staring at him, his face, his eyes, his perfectly trimmed beard. “Well, maybe except for the tattoos and your hair. It looks good on you, being short like that. You still writing?”
He nods. “Yup. And you? Still singing?”
Surely he should know that I quit. But that’s a lie. I may have quit performing, but I haven’t stopped playing music or writing songs. “In my spare time.”
“What are you doing out here?”
“Just passing through from Utah.” I point at my camper in the distance. “I was going to stop by Taos for the night, but it looks like that’s as far as my camper is going to go for the day.”
He looks up, frowning. “What happened? You got into an accident?”
