She let out a laugh. “It looks different from this angle.”
“Most places do. Every sunrise is the renewed promise of a better day.”
She turned to me with a wrinkled brow.
“Someone used to say that to me.” I peered out into the distance, watching the sun slowly shine its brilliance on the wildflowers below.
“Who?” she asked in that honey and milk voice that made me want to divulge all.
“My mother.” I cleared my throat. “We used to watch sunrises together.” I cherished those mornings of only my mother and me, watching the sun kiss the sky good morning as she would call it.
“You’ve stopped shaking,” I said after some time.
She smiled. “You noticed.”
“There isn’t much I don’t notice about you.”
She turned her head away, dipping it before she peered out at the horizon again.
“Why does listening to your album make you upset?” I asked after a few silent minutes.
“You do notice everything, huh?”
“About you, yes.”
She stared out at the sky, observing the scene around us. It was stunning, yet I couldn’t help but stare at her. Lena Clarkson had my complete and total attention. She had ever since the moment she walked into my brother’s wedding reception.
“I wroteBroken Kisseswhen I was twenty-three years old,” she started. “It’s my best-selling album.”
“You won three Grammys for it.”
She smiled. “Only missed Album of the Year.” She turned to face me. “That was over six years ago. I’ve written two albums since then that haven’t gotten half the praise.” She lowered her head and shook it.
“I don’t write for the accolades. But what scares me the most is thinking my best writing days are behind me. Do you know what it’s like to feel like you peaked at twenty-three?”
There were tears in her eyes, and the pain in her gaze clawed at my chest. I wanted to comfort her somehow, but when I started to reach for her, she shook her head.
She let out a humorless laugh. “For the past few years, I’ve been getting along fine, writing music for myself and for other artists. Many of the songs were successful. I don’t need to write another song to live comfortably for the rest of my life.”
There was a pause, and I looked out to the sky and the hills beneath us. The expanse of this area where I grew up always brought me some peace. Even on the days when I thought there was no peace to be had.
“Maybe I used up all of my talents,” Lena continued. “I should be happy that I had the opportunity to do what I enjoy for this long.” She shrugged and turned back around, giving me her back.
I pressed into her body, keeping her bracketed close to me. “That’s bullshit,” I growled. “Talent doesn’t get up and leave you.”
She made a disbelieving sound with her mouth. “I was at least able to write easy pop songs. The throw away kind with simple but catchy lyrics. Not my best work, but they sold well enough. I can’t even do that anymore.”
I thought for a minute, hating the despair and fear I heard in her voice.
“Creativity is endless. Maybe you need to stop being so hard on yourself.”
Leaning back, Lena peered at me over her shoulder with a lifted brow. “Who says I’m too hard on myself?”
“I do,” I answered. “The other day, when you couldn’t get that equipment set up, you acted like you were the biggest moron on the planet. And because you haven’t written anythingyet,you think your entire career is over.”
I spun her so that she fully faced me.
“I can guess who it was that put all those doubts in your head.” I paused, gritting my teeth, thinking about her douchebag ex. “But it’s your gift, not his. It belongs to you. The music will come when you start believing that again.”
