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She’s never been one to be late, but she’s got a kid.I know they tend to change all kinds of plans last minute.That doesn’t make me feel any less hurt and disappointed.She’s got my number.She could have at least texted to say she wasn’t going to come.
And then she appears.Looking every bit the fucking goddess she is.
When I catch her eye, she smiles, and I grin back.I’m so fucking happy right now, I can barely contain myself.I want to throw my sticks, jump off the stage and kiss her senseless.
That, among other things, will come later.
I can’t keep my eyes off her as I mentally count down songs until we take a break and I can kiss my woman.We’re down to three songs left in this set and I’m not really paying much attention until I hear Dylan say, “This one’s for Erin.It’s calledLast Smile,and was written by our own Mick Russell.”
TEN
Erin
I really struggledwith my decision to come back to Frets.Last night was so good.And I kept thinking maybe it was better if I just tuck it away as a lovely memory and carry on with life.
But Mick woke up wants and needs I’d thought were long dead.And as it turns out, I’m not ready to kill them off again.As I lay in his arms last night, it feltright.Like it always has been and always should be.And maybe it should scare the shit out of me that a man I don’t really know—not anymore—makes me feel this way.But it doesn’t.I just want more.To see where it leads.
My heart trips a few beats at Mick’s wide smile when he sees me walk in.I find a seat near the front and am having a great time grooving to the music and watching Mick watching me.
I know that look so well.It means he’s going to totally rock my world as soon as he gets me back to his condo.And there’s no question I’m going with him.
I hear my name.I look up at Mick and cock my head.When Dylan says that Mick wrote it, Mick’s happy grin dissolves into a grimace.
Okay, so something going on there.
As I listen to the words, a huge lump forms in my throat.This song is about me.Us.I had no idea how much he loved me.How much I hurt him when I left.I guess I convinced myself that he was just a rocker and I was a bit of fun.That he’d just move on to the next girl once I left.I manage to hold it together until the song is over, but I can’t stay.
I text Molly from the cab, letting her know I’m sleeping at hers tonight.
She’s waiting for me with an open bottle of wine and a hug.
ELEVEN
Mick
My gut roilsas I watch Erin walk out and there’s no way I can stop her.That familiar feeling of loss creeps back in.Not as intense as it had been when she’d walked out of my life the day before I was going to propose—but it’s back, all the same.I should have pushed for her number or email…some way to stay in touch.
No, maybe it it’s better this way.
We both go back to our lives like nothing happened.A nostalgic blip on the radar.
Instead of joining the boys for a drink at Frets, I walk to my car and go straight home.I’m not in the mood for company.Or ribbing.And I’m definitely not ready to field the questions.
And I could fucking kill Dylan for pulling that stunt tonight.Last Smilehadn’t been on the set list, and sending it out to Erin was inappropriate and meddlesome.Not cool.
I’d poured my shattered heart into that song.It was therapy of a sort.A way to survive the loss.We didn’t play it often—just times when we needed a change of pace.
We wouldn’t perform it at all, except Dylan had overheard me playing it one day a few years ago when I’d been in a particularly melancholy mood.
I grab a beer from the fridge, then root through my closet for a plastic box of old keepsakes and photos.
It’s been years since I looked through them.My parting with Echo of Defiance had not gone smoothly.
Lifting the lid off the container, my chest tightens as I spot the small blue velvet box.
I nudge it aside and pull out a stack of photos and sift through them.Lots of candid shots of various events we’d played.About halfway through the stack, there is one of Erin.A close-up of her sweet face.The memory of the way she focused on me while I played, her expression full of love, is a boot to the heart.
I stuff the photos back in the box and bury them deep in the bowels of my closet.
