“Also… you, uh, might need to fire one of your photographers. Before Brodykillshim.”
“You don’t say.” She released me and started back toward the fracas, but I grabbedherarm.
“I swear,” I told her, “I am not trying to make a scene at my brother’swedding!”
Jesus, though. First my ass in the cake,nowthis?
“Word of advice, gorgeous,” Maggie said sternly, but she was grinning at me. “Next time, wearpanties.”
ChapterEight
Brody
“Jessa!”
I heard her name, exalted through the darkness between the trees… and at first, I almost thought I’d imagined it. A shiver ran up my spine as the breeze licked up the back of myshirt.
I zipped up my fly and headed through the trees, back tothefire.
“Omigod, come sit down!” That, from a very happy-sounding but slightly drunkKatie.
“We thought you’d bailed.” That was Roni, and I heard the cap pop off a fresh beer. Just as I reached the edge of the patio, I saw her; Jessa, standing by the fire in her furry jacket, taking a pull off the beer she’d just been handed. I’d stepped away to take a piss, and now thereshewas.
I stopped short in the darkness between thetrees.
“Nope,” Jessa said, wiping beer off her mouth with the back of her hand as she sat down. Like most everyone around the fire pit, she’d changed into jeans and warm boots. So at least if she was still going commando, no one would be thewiser.
“To sit at the fire,” Jesse told her, “you have to sing a song.” Then he thrust a guitar into herhands.
There were about a dozen people gathered around; just the band and a few friends with cold beers and a bunch of instruments, sitting on benches around the fire on a stone patio overlooking the hot springs. It was near three in the morning and a fat moon was glowing through the break in the trees above. The wedding reception had dissolved about an hour ago, the last guests wandering off to their cabins, but those of us who couldn’t yet sleep had come out here to do what we always did when we were in nature together: play music, or at least enjoy a few more drinks and the talents of those whocouldplay.
The mere possibility of hearing Jessa sing a song, right here, right now… my pulse jacked up and I got goosebumps, all over my body—that internal radar for other people’s musical gift that Zane called my “talent boner” going off in abigway.
I didn’t even think I’d see her again tonight, and I’d had mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, seeing her was torture. On the other hand, not seeing her? Worsetorture.
Amandahadbailed, heading off to bed, so at least there was that. Apparently, the fact that I’d punched a guy in the face didn’t go over so well with her, especially when word got around about why Ididit.
I flexed my sore hand and hung back, just beyond the firelight, listening; I didn’t want my presence to ruin the moment. If Jessa saw me, maybe she wouldn’t play. Maybe she wouldn’t even stay. But she seemed to be stalling as she sippedherbeer.
“Even Katie sang,” Jesse encouraged her. “Badly.”
“‘Bohemian Rhapsody’!” Katie said. “It’s my specialty. Especially in the shower, in my car, and atcampfires.”
“Ah, a campfire classic.” I could see the side of Jessa’s face, rimmed in firelight, her eyes shining. She looked a little drunk, but happy. “Jesse can never remember the words.” She shot her brother a disparaging look and started tuning hisguitar.
“Don’t fuck with my guitar,” he said, but he looked damn happy. Paulie handed him another acoustic but he didn’t play, waiting instead for Jessa tostart.
I leaned against a tree as Jessa started to strum, tentatively at first, almost shyly. Everyone fell quiet to listen as she cleared her throat. “I’m a littlerusty.”
“Don’t think,” Jesse prompted. “Justplay.”
I didn’t recognize the song at first. Then Jessa opened her gorgeous mouth and let her soft voice out, and the words of Hozier’s “Take Me To Church,” carrying through the night, rose every hair onmybody.
Jesus, the girlcouldsing.
Jesse joined in on guitar, but no one else sang. Zane’s voice or even Jesse’s would’ve overpowered hers, and no one wanted that. There was justsomethingabout Jessa Mayes’ voice; sweet, delicate, both fragile and strong, and so emotive. She’d changed the lover in the song’s lyrics from “she” to “he” and made it her own, and when she sang? You got pulled right in. Everyone seemed to lean in closer to hear her… all of her. Every little intake of breath, every catch, every little sigh between thewords.
The spaces in-between the words; Jessa knew, like any great songwriter, that those spaces wereeverything.
