Tracing Holland (NSB Book 2) Read online

  “That was beautiful, Luke,” she says quietly behind me. “What was it?”

  I swallow and snap the latches on the case. “I don’t know exactly. Something my father used to play all the time. He called it the ‘Sorrow Song’ but I’m not sure why.”

  “It’s amazing. You’re freaking amazing,” she adds, and I have no choice but to look at her now. I almost wish I’d risked rudeness at the expression in her eyes.

  “Thanks. I’ve spent a lot of hours fooling around on a guitar.”

  “That’s pretty obvious. You’re mind-blowing when you play. Like, seriously, remarkable. I guess the rumors aren’t exaggerated.”

  I feel the heat start to rise in me, and have to look away again. “Well, let’s hope some of the others are,” I joke, trying to deflect the attention and lighten the mood.

  I’m pretty sure she knows what I’m doing, but lets me go with a grin. “I guess we’ll have to see.”

  ∞∞∞

  “Luke.”

  “Callie.”

  We exchange a smile at our signature greeting.

  “Is this seat taken?” she asks, setting her plate across from me.

  I smile. “Does it even matter?”

  She grins back. “Nope.”

  I shake my head and motion for her to sit.

  “Where’s Case?” I ask, and snicker at her annoyed grunt.

  “Who knows. He was in the back working on Penchant stuff when I left the bus, so I doubt we’ll see him until call-time. I just hope he at least takes a shower and eats something,” she mutters.

  I laugh. “Bring something back for him. He can clean up in the sink on the bus.”

  She gives me a look. “Not a chance. There’s no way I’m rewarding this behavior.”

  “Ok, sorry! It was just a suggestion!” I smirk, holding up my hands in surrender. I focus back on my lunch, relieved it’s just us and a few crewmembers at the moment. I miss my conversations with Callie. She has this way of looking inside you when she’s there, turning the conversation into more than just words. Those first few days at Jemma’s...she rewired my life with her piercing engagement. I love spending time with her, being in her calming presence, and we haven’t had many opportunities for that these last couple weeks. So yeah, I’m annoyed when she ruins our rare moment alone by bringing up the one topic that can unhinge me.

  “How are things with Holland?”

  I stare over at her in surprise, maybe irritation. “Huh?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Come on. She’s like the one person in the universe who can understand every aspect of your being. The spotlight, the pressure, the music, everything. You two must be hitting it off. If you haven’t yet, you need to get on that, like, yesterday.”

  I shake my head in disbelief. “None of your damn business,” I return lightly.

  She rolls her eyes with a smile. “Whatever. She’s hot, too. Like, smokin’. You can’t do any better, Luke.”

  My eyes widen, and she only shrugs.

  “What? She is! She’s sweet, and smart, and talented, and…”

  “Callie, please. It’s not happening, ok?”

  “What’s not?”

  “Whatever it is you’re trying to make happen. It’s not going to happen.”

  She huffs and glares at her plate. “I’m not trying to make anything happen. You know I wouldn’t rush you. I just…” She stops and glances back up at me, all the humor gone from her face. “I just hope you’re going to be fair to yourself, that’s all.”

  Her words hit me hard. “Fair? What are you talking about?”

  She leans forward and gazes straight into me. “You deserve to be loved. You deserve friends. You deserve to let someone in. I’m not saying it has to be Holland, but if it is, you need to let it happen.”

  I laugh then. I know it’s just a defensive reaction, but it’s so absurd. Talking about love after all this time. Talking about loving Holland Drake of all people. And I thought Callie understood me. Crap, if she doesn’t, I’m completely screwed.

  “Thanks, Cal, but seriously, you can’t worry about that.”

  She looks hurt. “Worry about what?”

  “You know what I mean. Me. Love. Dating. All that shit. It’s…” I stop. It’s what? I don’t know. It just feels wrong, pointless.

  Now, she’s annoyed. “I’m not worried about anything, Luke. I would never rush you or pressure you into a relationship! I just know you. I know how you punish yourself and deny yourself anything that could remotely lead to happiness. I’m calling you out on your self-denial because I’m afraid that’s what I’m seeing here. This is a ‘get real’ moment.”

  I laugh when the grin spreads across her lips.

  “Oh, yeah? Is this Callie Roland Straight Talk?”

  She leans back and crosses her arms. “Yep, exactly. Callie Roland Straight Talk time. Just promise me you’re not going to push Holland away if she starts to get close. That’s all I’m asking. You don’t have to date her. You don’t have to fall in love with her. Just don’t push her away if there’s a connection, that’s all. You deserve to be understood.”

  I chuckle at that, I can’t help it. I know I’m pissing her off, but she has no clue how ridiculous this whole conversation is. “Callie, I love you, you know that. And I love that you care so much, but please, you’re way off on this. Holland is great, I totally agree with you, but there’s nothing for me to push away, ok? We’ve had a couple conversations and might be friends one day, I don’t know, but she’s not into rockers, and I totally respect that. It’s a wise move on her part. She faces enough of a stigma as a woman in this business. She doesn’t need that kind of drama or gossip in her life. And let’s face it, it doesn’t get any more dramatic than hooking up with Luke Craven while on tour.”

  Callie is actually glaring at me now, and I have no idea how to explain this any better.

  “She told you that? She actually said she wasn’t into rockers,” she challenges, and I laugh.

  “Honestly, yes. She did.”

  “I don’t believe you. When?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “What? She just looked you in the face and said, ‘nope, not a chance’?”

  I shrug. “Sorry to disappoint you, but yeah. Pretty much exactly that, actually. Complete with all the awkwardness and uncomfortable silence you’d expect. Although it was actually kind of sweet in a way. Still, trying to figure that one out.”

  Her eyes widen. “Holy crap. You’re serious!”

  I shrug again and nod. “Yep.”

  “Are you freaking kidding me? Unbelievable.” She actually curses this time and grips her fork in a violent fist.

  “I’m sure she just doesn’t want distractions in her life. I don’t blame her.”

  Callie rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Yeah, but still. To come out and actually say it? I will never understand you musicians,” she mutters. “Seriously! You create so much drama trying to avoid drama!”

  I laugh and pity her lasagna as she stabs it in frustration.

  “It’s fine, really. I’m not looking for a relationship, you know that.”

  She meets my eyes, and I know I’ve said the wrong thing.

  “I know you’re not. And it’s ok not to look, as long as you’re not closing yourself off from one finding you.”

  “You mean like a wall painting?” I ask just to test her reaction. She looks appropriately confused, and I find some comfort in that. So Holland had been telling the truth. The whole painting metaphor was original Holland Drake intuition.

  “Huh?”

  I shake my head. “Never mind. Someone told me once that I’m like a painting. People like to look but no one dares to come near it. That I wouldn’t let them even if they wanted to.”

  Callie’s expression changes. I shouldn’t have said that. I’ve just invited a conversation I don’t want to have anywhere, let alone at a folding table in catering with crewmembers a few feet away.

  “Who said that to you?�
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  I stare at my plate. “It doesn’t matter. Do you think it’s true?” I ask, daring to meet her gaze again. It’s too late to go back now.

  Her eyes search me, the compassion I so admire filling my soul with that strange warmth that’s been creeping in lately.

  “Yeah, actually, I do think it’s true. It’s a great metaphor for you, but it’s their loss, Luke. It is, for sure, but it’s also not fair of you to keep denying the rest of the world the beauty inside you. You’re just as much to blame.”

  My stomach drops. There should be a defensive quip rising to my tongue right about now, but instead I’m locked in stunned silence. I don’t know how to respond. Nothing seems to fit.

  “Luke, I’m serious. You’re ready. I know you’re ready.”

  I suck in my breath. “I am? Ready for what?”

  She smiles as she shrugs. “I don’t know. For whatever’s next.”

  ∞∞∞

  “Hello. Hello. Greetings from the inside. Hello. Hello. Framed in all your lies…”

  The crowd is screaming along with me, twenty-thousand backup singers belting out the now famous chorus as I lean into the mic, emptying my lungs of the music exploding in my chest. I can’t actually hear their cries as the click track and mix pour into my ears from my IEMs, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t stop the adrenaline, the rush of being on stage. Of being transported to that one place where everything makes sense. The only place I don’t feel like a stranger.

  My muscles tense with each lyric, each strain toward the mic, each violent assault on my guitar.

  “Hello! Hello! How you love to see me cry, always so…”

  Sweeny kills his riff on the outro and I jump back to give him the spotlight, letting my body take complete control from my head. It’s just raw instinct now. A visceral heat driving me as I dominate the stage, my tiny kingdom. Lights flashing, haze swirling around us. I’m exhausted after the long set, but I don’t want it to end. No matter how many times I do this, no matter how many shows, songs, hours of pouring out my soul, I never want to say goodbye. This is my home, my giant family I will never know.

  Sweeny nods after a couple progressions, signaling the end of his solo, and I pass it along to Casey who leads us out with a huge fill. Sweeny, Eli, and I join in, hammering the last chord for a full seven seconds as we let our bodies match the intensity of our sound.

  It’s finally time, the end, and I let go of my guitar to hop back on the mic, grabbing it with both hands.

  “We love you!” I cry into the final barrage of music still swelling around us. I pull out my in-ears so I can hear the roar, the deafening air. I raise my hand in salute. “Thank you, Atlanta! Good night!”

  Myrtle Beach, South Carolina

  September 16-19

  I am so grateful for my own room again when we roll into Myrtle Beach that I pretty much determine I don’t want to leave it until we have to report for the show in three days. I stretch out on the bed, closing my eyes, breathing in the stale hotel air like it’s a fresh mountain breeze. I’m hungry, but I can’t even imagine leaving this sanctuary in search of food. Three days of privacy. Three days of silence. Three days of protection from the endless looks of pity or disdain. Three days of no inquiries, or probing, or questions about my mental state disguised as questions about water bottles and snack food. I’m so giddy, I almost text Callie to let her know I finally remember what happiness feels like. Almost. I’m pretty sure I know what’s happening in Casey’s room right now.

  The thought makes me smile, then frown as Holland’s face ruins the moment. Annoyed, I try to shut it out, but the effort only makes it worse. Now it’s her hair, her eyes, her smile, the pen in her mouth as she writes in her notebook. Her lips. Her strong, but delicate fingers as they slide over the smooth wood of my guitar. My body starts to react. Oh god, not again.

  I curse into the darkness of my room, pounding the mattress in frustration, but it doesn’t help. She’s still there, burning in my head, reminding me of how long it’s been since I let another person invade my soul. Touch me. Since I’ve touched. My body is screaming now, my breath coming harder as I clench my eyes shut, trying to make it stop. It’s been so long. Too long.

  I bolt up from the bed, guilty, furious, the self-hatred knocking hard against the wall of my conscience. I don’t even know why or what I’ve done, I just know I’m sinning against something, someone. I strip off my shirt, my jeans, everything, and move into the bathroom, turning on the water to the shower with a rough hand. I’m terrified as I step under the healthy stream, having no way of knowing if the warm flood will save me or push me over the edge. There’s no way to be sure, but after a few seconds I realize she’s still here. She’s followed me from the bed. I lean against the wall, hot tears burning behind my eyes, my brain desperately fighting against the cries of my body. I can’t do this, can I? I can’t. I…

  I try to shut her out, but the harder I try, the worse it gets. Cross-stich. Cross-stich. Cross-stich. No, there’s her laugh. Her brilliance. The captivating magic of her immersion in the music. My hand is disobeying my brain now, desperate as it soothes and stirs, crushing my will, knocking me into total submission to the painful ecstasy.

  You’re an enigma, Luke. You’re a dark, beautiful painting locked high on the wall behind a protective shield of glass.

  Is there a woman on this planet who could resist you if you wanted her?

  You’re an insanely talented, walking, talking Greek god bad boy. You even have the sexy accent, tortured soul thing going on.

  Don’t even pretend you’re not used to it.

  I gasp, overcome with guilt, with pleasure. My body collapses against the wall, thanking me and punishing me at the same time. I don’t move, absorbing the chill from the tile as it bleeds into my back and calms the raging fire that just wrecked me. I can feel the anger, the guilt, the longing, start to meld together in a twisted knot as my brain begins to catch up with my young, virile body. I finally push away from the wall, the tears mixing with the water as I let go and turn my face into the stream. I hold my breath, not that there was any air left in my lungs.

  Oh god, what have I done?

  ∞∞∞

  I sit on the edge of my bed for a long time, haunted by what just happened. Punishing myself, forgiving myself. I don’t know. I’m not sure I’ve done anything wrong, but it doesn’t feel right either. I rest my head in my hands, staring at the floor. I have no idea how to be a good person, what that even means. All I know is I’m trying, but maybe it’s not enough.

  I also know that I’m actually relieved when my phone lights up with a text from Casey and Callie letting me know they’re heading to the beach. Funny how an hour ago I couldn’t imagine leaving this room and now I’m desperate for any reason to escape it.

  The beach sounds great and I respond that I’ll meet them in the lobby in a few minutes. I pull on some shorts and a t-shirt, casting a quick glance at myself in the mirror. It’s always fast. There’s almost never anything there I want to see. I notice my eyes look tired, but that’s to be expected with our brutal schedule over the last few days. No one will suspect anything different.

  I take the elevator down to the lobby and almost force the doors back closed. I’d left my room to escape her and there she is, perfect flesh giving life to the dangerous hallucination in my head! They spot me, however, eliminating any chance of a retreat, and I plaster my best smile on my face.

  “Hey, guys,” I say, approaching the small group, careful to keep my eyes fixed on Casey and Callie. I can’t look at Holland after what I’d just done with her in the shower. She’d been engaged in a separate conversation with Wes and her drummer, Spence, when I appeared, and suddenly falls silent.

  “No Eli and Sweeny?” I ask, mostly to distract myself from the effect of her intense gaze. I can feel her studying me, searching me, and it’s messing with my brain chemistry in a bad way.

  “They’re coming,” Casey answers. “Late as usual.”


  I snicker, not at all surprised. As if on cue, the elevator doors open, and the boisterous duo explodes into the lobby.

  “Let’s do this!” Sweeny calls, drawing stares from everyone else in the large space.

  Callie laughs and takes Casey’s hand, dragging him toward the door. “Yes! Let’s go!” she cries, giving us no choice but to follow.

  ∞∞∞

  The beach is not as crowded as I would have thought. There are plenty of other visitors enjoying the sand and walking along the surf, but it’s definitely not the raucous party atmosphere I’m used to. This crowd is mostly families with young children or retired natives strolling along for their daily walk. Callie is clearly through the roof with excitement, and I can’t help but grin as she skips across the bridge over the dunes. Casey just shakes his head in amusement and struggles to keep up.

  “Come on!” she cries turning back and waving us on.

  “Has she never seen the beach before?”

  I stiffen at the voice, my smile faltering. I force another surge of energy into it.

  “Callie lives everything in the moment,” I explain to Holland. I suck in my breath, and allow myself to look at her but immediately wish I hadn’t. She’s stunning with her loose, cut-out tank draped over a bikini top and tiny shorts. Her aviator sunglasses hide her eyes from me, but I know they’re focused on me as well. I can almost feel the tension in her too. It makes no sense, given how much energy she pours into convincing me she has no interest in me.

  “It’s pretty hot,” she muses, still staring at me, and I can’t stop my grin.

  “What, the temperature or the view?”

  She laughs and shakes her head. “Wow. You are so full of yourself!”

  I give a playful shrug, and she shoves me as we move down the steps together.

  “You know what I meant. Yes, the temperature.”

  “So that’s where we are now? Talking about the weather? I let you play my Gibson.”