Chapter 13

Bryson

What just happened? I thought we were getting somewhere, but she just shut down and walked away. I thought if I got her to see what she gave up, she'd want a part of it back. Her father wouldn't want this life for her. He pushed her so hard to be the best, and now she doesn't even want to be a part of it anymore.

I sat there in the square just listening to the street performers. Most played into the afternoon hours, but then it got warm out and shoppers dwindled. I thought about going after Penny several times, but each time I realized it wouldn't do any good. She didn't want me around right now, and forcing my company on her might cause her to retreat even more.

I slowly made my way back to my hotel and up to my room. My guitar case was standing in the corner. I opened it up and made myself comfortable on the chair in the corner. I strummed a few chords before looking at the piece of paper I'd scribbled on the night before. There were a few lyrics and some notes jotted down, but all I had at the moment was a chorus. I'd been wanting to write something original that would get me noticed. I'd been playing covers in other bands for years, but it wasn't going anywhere. I hummed along, hoping the next phrase would come, but it didn't. Frustration soon followed. This was the one thing I'd always struggled with. Penny and I used to joke that we'd need to get a job as a pair. She'd write the lyrics, and I'd write the melody.

I played for a few hours until my stomach growled, alerting me that I needed food. I hadn't really thought that far ahead, so I set the guitar on my bed, and decided to go back to the bar. I had no idea if she was working, but we weren't playing tonight, and she knew that. I thought maybe she wouldn't avoid the bar if she thought she might not run into me.

It was only about a fifteen-minute walk, and when I opened the door, music from the sound system blared. A large group of people were gathered at the bar, and occasionally, they'd shout or let out a hoot. I scanned the place but didn't see Penny so I made my way over to an empty spot on the end.

"Whatcha drinkin?" A petite blonde came over and placed a coaster in front of me.

"Got any ciders on tap?" I scanned the pulls around the U-shaped bar.

"We have two. A seasonal one, and our regular ‘Mad Apple'." She smiled.

"I'll take that." I picked at the coaster while she went to pour my drink.

"She's on break right now." The bartender grinned. "You're looking for Aspen, right? I saw you two talking the other night."

"We used to be friends," I clarified. I didn't want to assume we were anything else at the moment.

"Right." She nodded as she pressed her lips together. "I'm Lisa. Just yell if you need something." She walked away, and I took a sip of my drink. It was good. Kinda sweet and tart at the same time. I let myself zone out and didn't really talk to anyone else.

I don't know if she saw me, and stayed back, or if she just decided to work a different area of the bar, but it must have been an hour before Penny appeared.

"So, you've decided to start stalking me at work now, huh?" She wiped the bar beside me and grabbed two empties to toss in the trash.

"This is close to my hotel." I shrugged. "I thought you'd want me around." I lowered my voice. "After the other night…" I stopped talking when her eyes darted up and it appeared she was upset with me.

"That was a mistake. I thought we could, but I just…can't." She started to step away, but I reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"I need you to talk to me." I leaned in. I wasn't really ready to give up on this just yet.

"There's nothing to talk about." She pulled at her wrist, and I let go. "You're music, and I'm not. We won't work." She rushed away into the kitchen and stayed out of my sight the rest of the night.

Aspen

I can't do this , I chanted to myself as I rushed away. I needed to put enough distance between us that he couldn't convince me to try. Trying meant remembering, and I didn't want to remember. It hurt too much, and I was tired of hurting.

I stormed into the dish room and let out a scream. Anger at this whole situation was beginning to control me, but it was better than sadness. I paced for a few moments, repeating what I'd just said to him. I needed to remember why I was mad. It helped me stay strong. I worked the back room the rest of the night. Staying away was hard, but I needed my life to go back to the way it was before he came here, back when I could pretend that everything was fine.

"See ya tomorrow." I waved as I pushed through the door and out onto the sidewalk. It was a warm night, and there wasn't much of a breeze. I walked briskly until coming to a stumbling stop at my building.

There, sitting on the stoop was Bryson. "Wait!" He stood.

"You don't give up, do you?" I shook my head.

"I need your help." He sighed. "I've tried everything, but you're the only one who can help me. Please?" When he stood up, I noticed his guitar sitting behind him.

My shoulders dropped as I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat. "With what?" It squeaked out of me.

"Words?" His head tipped to the side. "You know I suck with words. If there was anyone else, I'd ask them." He continued, "Please?"

I shook my head. I knew this was a bad idea. I'd regret it, but a part of me felt bad for him. I punched in the key code to open the door, and he followed me upstairs.

We stopped at my apartment for a moment in order for me to put my things inside, and then I led him to the roof. "I used to come up here all the time when I first moved in. It's my escape. We won't bother anyone with the noise up here." I motioned to the spot where two box-style crates were sitting.

"Used to?" His head tipped. "You don't anymore?"

"Not like I used to. I always played in the apartment, but my neighbor would beat on the wall over the noise, so I brought my keyboard up here. I stopped after Dad died." My voice was barely a whisper. I flexed my fingers at my side. It was as if my body was telling me I needed to play, but my heart wouldn't allow it.

"I can see why you like it up here." He waved around. You could see the entire city from the top of my building. The cars looked like little ants marching along the streets.

"So what do you have?" I blew out a breath as I sat down on one of the crates.

"A lot of nothing." He chuckled. I watched as he sat down and opened the guitar case. He rummaged around until he produced a notepad. He handed it over, along with a pen. "I've got the chorus, but I need more. I need verses." He growled in exasperation.

"So, play it for me." He slipped the strap over his head and positioned the guitar in front of him. He made some adjustments and then strummed a few chords before going into a melody. I watched as he picked along and then came to a stumbling halt.

"That's what I got. Sucks, doesn't it?" His lips twisted as his nose scrunched up. "Please help."

I thought about it for a moment. "I think you need to go up a key here to make this part a little different, and then maybe repeat this part." I pointed out where I was talking about on the notepad he had handed me. "This sounds good here, but I think we need to move this line here. It just flows better like this." For a moment I forgot about all the heartache and my reasons for keeping music out of my life and just had fun. It was like our college days all over again. We worked together brainstorming ideas well into the night and for those few hours I was happy.

"What about this part?" He began trying different lines to see what sounded better.

"I like what you're thinking, but instead of saying love here, why don't you say lust? I think it fits your message better," I offered.

"See? I knew you could help. You're so good at this. Why are you not writing for people now?" He grinned and reality crashed back into my head.

"Because I can't. It hurts to do this stuff." I crossed my arms over my chest.

"I think you're afraid of loving it again. I've been watching you for the last hour. You've been happy, laughing, smiling… You've loved this. Why can't you see that?" He set the guitar to the side and stood up. "I watched you turn back into who you used to be with a simple task of helping me. I know this version of you is still in there somewhere."

"You're wrong." I stood, arms still crossed and lifted my chin.

"I don't think I am." He stepped closer. "I think I'm righter than you want to admit."

"Nope." I pursed my lips and shook my head. I would not let the walls down. I couldn't let my heart splinter any more than it already had.

"Why are you so afraid to love it again? Do you think it means you don't love him if you're happy?" He stepped closer, our chests touching now. "Don't you think happiness and success are what he wants for you?"

"I… I can't." My lip quivered and all the things I'd pushed away for years started bubbling up. My head was spinning with thoughts of playing again and the success that it may bring. Tears filled my eyes and began leaking down my cheeks.

"You were made for this." His voice lowered to a whisper, "Let me show you." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my tear-stained lips. I stiffened at first. It was all too much. Too many feelings. Too many possibilities of things going wrong. Too many regrets from the years I shoved my dreams into hiding. "You were made for this." His lips moved over mine. "You know I'm right." His hands came up and cupped my face as he slanted his mouth, deepening the kiss. I rose to my tiptoes, leaning into him before wrapping my arms around his waist. When he finally pulled back, he smiled down at me. "You know I'm right." He said it again with a soft smile on his lips.

I blinked a few times to clear the tears away before I attempted to say anything. "Okay." I sighed. "Can you help me?"

"I'd do anything for you." He pulled me into a hug. "I'm going to show you what your father and I have known you could do since we met you."