Keely sat up, barely missing the top bunk. “Yes. But ... I was hoping that no one would recognize me. I...” She made a face. “I sort of snuck out of New York City.”
“Why are you in Alaska? I mean—like I know you took time off for your voice surgery, but that was six months ago ...”
“Well, as you can hear, I’m still working on my voice.” She hated the weakness, the occasional raspy tenor when she got tired. And how she still had to strain to hit the high notes.
She’d started to wonder if it would ever come back fully.
River leaned back, held up her hand. “I’m sure it’ll come back. I mean, I know it’s none of my business, but ... wow. Ithasto come back. I love your music. It’s...”
“Fun?”
“Yes. And romantic. And hopeful.” Her eyes were bright. “I got your first album—Heartstrings and High Notes—when I was fifteen. It was perfect. I was in love with one of the Benson brothers, and he’d just broken my heart, and you sang all the perfect words. Everything I was feeling.”
She was sweet. The kind of fan who she’d sung for, once upon a time. “I loved that album. I wrote every song.”
“It was perfect. Especially the one about him taking your heart—”
“‘Stolen Beats.’ ‘You took my heart with a smile—’”
“‘Oh, the game you played.’” River picked up the song. “‘Leftme in the shadow, cold and gray.’ Oh, I played it over and over and cried and cried and cried.”
Keely drew in a breath. Oh, River had no idea. She’d done exactly the same thing. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“Oh no. It was a good cry. You put to words exactly what I was feeling. And, of course, he wasn’t my true love.”
“You’re married to that hunk who saved us out on the ice.”
River grinned, held up her hand. A small diamond, a simple gold band. “Griffin is amazing and perfect and ... well, you wrote a song about that too.”
“‘Forever Found.’”
“We used the lyrics in our wedding.”
“What?”
“I know. Wild. But they were perfect. ‘In a world full of noise, your voice was a quiet call, through the crowd, through the chaos, you saw me through it all. Like a lighthouse in the storm, you were steadfast and tall. In your eyes, I found the place where I belong.’”
“When you say it, it sounds very romantic.”
“It is ... especially when you sing it.” River met Keely’s eyes, leaned forward, pitched her voice low. “Are you still dating Chase?”
A beat. Wait—“Chase Sterling?”
“Yes. I thought—I mean, weren’t you together? You were in that movie, and you did that duet together—”
“Oh no. No. That was publicity. And we were promoting each other’s albums, and ... no, trust me. Chase is not ... not my type.”
River raised an eyebrow. “So who is your type?”
Keely looked away, swallowed. Closed her eyes.
“Wait. Are you with Dawson?”
She looked at River and managed a “Who?” It came out a little squeaky.
“Oh, I thought ... you know, that guy you came in with today. You were talking to him earlier—”
“Right. The cop.” Oh, she could lie so easily it seemed. “Yeah, no. I’ve had my share of cops in my life. No thank you.” That, however, was the truth.
