26
THE HEADLINER
BECKY
We make our way to the front of the stage where the next band is setting up. When I see their name on the drum set, I bounce on my toes. “Oh Hell! I forgot that they were headlining tonight! I love these guys! I can’t believe they are from here!” Carter looks at me in amusement, and the rest of what he said cycles through my mind. “Wait, youknowthem? Carter Stew?—”
The lead singer of the hometown band turned rockstars, Nick Pylot, comes out and steps up to the mic, cutting me off midaccusation. “Hey there, Briar Ridge! We are Savage Sixty-Eight, and we are excited to play here tonight!” A roar of cheers answers him.
No wonder it’s so crowded today.
“First, before we get started, I have a real quick story. A few years ago, we were in a tough spot with our band van, and our friend here, Carter, fixed it up for us for no charge.” A smattering of applause and some whispered questions rumble around the park. “He told us to look him up if we ever need anything, and we told him the same. Well, apparently, this guy saw we were playing here tonight and gave us a call a few weeks back. He said he wanted to do something for someone special, but he needed a little help from us.”
I look over at Carter just to see his eyes are already locked on me, not watching the band like everyone else. He’s watchingme.
“Carter told us that the most giving, thoughtful teacher he’s ever met needed some help funding her students’ trips to DC, and field trips in general, and he asked if there was anything we could do. Well, Ms. Duchamp, we would love to help.”
Breaking away from my staring contest with Carter, I meet the dark, mesmerizing eyes of Nick. Hewinksat me and heat rushes immediately to my entire face. His cheeky grin widens and he twists his guitar from his back to his front. Still holding my gaze, he starts strumming the opening to their first hit, “Catch You.”
“We are donating all of today’s profits to your class field trip fund.” He pauses playing for a beat. “Thank you, Ms. Duchamp for looking out for the less fortunate kiddos.” He licks his lips, the crowd listening to his lyrical tone, and his fingers return to strumming the familiar rhythm. His words whisper into the mic. “I was one of those kids who got left behind. We didn’t have one of you to fight our fight.” His mesmerizing voice carries seamlessly into the first lines of the song of yearning.“Always so close, yet too far to ever touch.”
I stagger under the weight of emotion slamming through me, and I’m overwhelmed. My eyes burn with the truth of everything that happened today, yesterday, this week, hell, just in the last month. Infuriatingly, a tear slips down my cheek, but when I reach up to scrub it off, Carter beats me to it, gliding his calloused thumb up along the path the tear took, until he pulls away his touch, the droplet smeared across his thumb.
He steps closer, crowding me, whispering my name, anguish in his eyes—anguish for my tears. I don’t bother stepping back. Instead of dwelling on everything I can’t begin to process, I raise my hands to brace against Carter’s chest rather than push him, I start to sway and sing along with the lyrics. “I’m enthralled by your words, but I want to taste the way you touch.”His eyes narrow from the wide concern into something hotter, heavier. He steps even closer, moving with me, hands reaching slowly, hesitantly, around my waist in a looseembrace. I allow myself to get lost in the music and in his arms, and I watch him get lost in me.
My body melts into his. My head falls forward onto his chest, and we sway together. We don’t say anything with words; it’s another moment where we are just existing in each other’s space—his touch a salve to my heart. As much as I tell myself I’m unsure about my feelings, my body knows where I belong.
The light has faded into night when another song comes to an end. It’s been an incredible show so far, but my body is buzzing from my nearness to Carter. He leans forward and whispers into my ear. “Hey, are you okay?” At my nod, he exhales against my neck, making goosebumps rise in the heat of the night. He drifts his lips to the back of my neck. “I have to go to the bathroom.”Well, damn.I need to give my body a pep-talk about reacting like a hussy in public.
His arms tighten around me after he lets me know—a direct contradiction to himself. I reluctantly lift my arms from where they rest over his shoulders, but he doesn’t pull away immediately. His chest rises and falls in a deep inhale and exhale before he releases me, his hands drifting across my middle in a soft caress. He tweaks my chin before turning and walking away in the direction of the bathrooms.
I release my own pent up breath at his departure, shaking my arms and legs to get rid of more unnecessary tingles.
Paige, who I’d seen arrive with Trevor and Jacob not long ago, happens to be hovering nearby. At Carter’s departure, she takes immediate advantage and scoots closer to me, hooking her arm around mine and leaning into my shoulder. I bite back my creeper comment and rest my head against hers. I get the sense that she’s seeking comfort from me as much as providing it.
A few seconds of watching pass. “So you’ve forgiven the fool?” Paige asks, downplaying her opinion.
“You know, you haven’t done a great job at hiding the fact that you’ve been helping him this entire time.” I call out her interference half-heartedly without removing my cheek from her riot of curls.
She huffs a soft laugh. “He’s like an idiot, cuddly koala. He alwayshas been.” She pauses for a second before continuing. “I was so—” To my shock, she chokes up, and I instinctively feel tears well up in my eyes. She clears her throat and squeezes my arm a little. Maybe for support, maybe for emphasis. “I was sohappywhen he introduced you to us. At first I was worried you were too tough, too hard. I worried you’d see his soft spots and—” her voice breaks on a sob. “And give up. Look down on him. Decide he’s too childish, too ridiculous. But, he just has such a soft heart.” Another stupid tear of the night runs down my cheek, and damn Paige for her gentle, loving soul. “But you—Becky—your heart matches his beat for beat.”
Tears fall silently as she shreds my heart with her words. Words I know to be true, which is why I was so broken to begin with. Her arm snakes around my middle and she squeezes me into her—always providing comfort. “It has been such an incredible thing to watch you ground his fidgety, excitable energy, and give him something so solid and sturdy to lean on and build upon. He—my God, Becky—he would have been perfectly content to stick to being a mechanic and working with his buddy for the rest of his life, living in the apartment above the shop, but you gave him a purpose and new goals, and it was a beautiful transformation to watch.”
I lean on the smaller woman swaying to the music. I don’t need to respond to her. She reads me like a book. I feel her shaking shoulders and pull her tighter into my side. I know she’s crying too.
Silly, Bitch.
I sniffle and whisper into the side of her head. “I’m sure we look super cool right now at this rock concert.”
She laughs at me, at my words, but her tears continue to fall. It’s okay, though. I’m crying too.
27
THE PUNCHLINE
CARTER
Iuse the restroom, but then, instead of heading back to the concert, I walk to the other side of the bathrooms. The space is empty, and darker, the shadows of the bathroom facility big enough to block out the majority of the lights from the concert. The sounds of the concert are still clear to me, but the summer song of the south can also be heard. The back end of the park grounds has a creek that runs through it, acting as a natural barrier between it and the land beyond. I walk toward that creek, hands deep in my pockets and head lost in the moments I’ve had with Becky this week.
