Chapter 24

It had been a whirlwind week for Hope. She'd recorded her first five songs that she'd written months ago in preparation for this opportunity when she had her studio up and running. And another song she'd intended on keeping private but couldn't resist recording: Yearning.

When three of her students had given feedback, insisting it was her best work, she'd released it online last night to a surprisingly high number of downloads. She knew, because she'd been compulsively checking ever since.

A crazy, bad-for-her compulsion, similar to cherry-choc-fudge sundaes, but she couldn't resist. Because every time she heard herself singing the lyrics, she pictured Logan. Strutting into the inner city café the first time they met. Wiping tomato ketchup off her chin at the football. Screwing her up against the alley wall behind the pub. Donning a tool belt for an all too short time when one of his workers had called in sick with gastro.

So many moments with a man she needed to forget but couldn't.

It was slowly but surely driving her crazy.

She wanted to call him. Swallow her pride and make the first move. Apologise, tell him the truth and set the record straight.

And maybe slake her insatiable lust for him.

That was the worst of all, the constant dreams and fantasies. Despite her mind trying to forget him, her body wouldn't get with the program. She craved his touch, his tongue, his dick, like she'd never craved anything in her life. Nonsensical and irrational and totally mind-messing.

She should know. She'd spent the entire morning trying to draft new songs and only had twelve sheets of screwed up paper to show for it.

Her muse had left the building along with the sexy tradesman CEO.

A few hours ago, she'd had a phone call from a radio station asking to interview her. Not one of the majors, but a small station focussing on indie artists. She'd been rapt. So she'd waxed lyrical about her new recording studio in Melbourne, putting a call out for indie artists.

And had been inundated. She'd booked her first two to start recording next week with another three for the weeks after. It had taken time listening to the artists songs, wading through all who had contacted her, but she had high hopes that the ones she'd chosen would help launch her humble studio on the indie scene.

But first, she needed more songs of her own.

However, after another hour of random doodling and staring at blank sheet music with a pencil poised in her hand, she admitted defeat.

Something wasn't right. She'd never had trouble composing before. Even when Willem had broken her heart she'd sought solace in her music. It had been a balm to her bruised heart while she reeled from her first love deceiving her so completely. The familiarity of her favourite songs had soothed her back then and when the initial shock of Willem's deception had worn off, her creativity had taken flight. The music and words flowed out of her and she could barely keep up with getting them down on paper.

So what was wrong now? Her love for Willem had been intense, passionate, and heady, and she hadn't allowed herself to feel anything remotely like it for Logan. He was her fling: her short-term sexy-time. It didn't make sense that walking away from him would affect her creativity if Willem breaking her heart hadn't stopped her producing songs.

Maybe the excitement of the last twenty-four hours had sapped her energy.

Or maybe your creativity is tied in to your happiness and you haven't been happy since you ended things with Logan?

Damn her voice of reason. She was a real bitch.

Hope didn't need a man to feel happy. Not anymore. Willem had put paid to that particular fantasy.

But that was the kicker in all this, that by falling in love with Willem she'd learned how incredible it could be: the giddiness, the excitement, the sheer optimism that everything in the world seemed brighter because of that person.

And despite all her self-proclamations that she'd never let any man that close again, she knew deep down she may have opened her heart to the possibility of something more with Logan and that's why she felt so damn off-kilter now it had ended.

This is why she didn't depend on anyone to be happy. Not since her parents, Willem, and Harry disabused her of the notion. Much easier being bold and confident and independent than depending on others.

So why the glumness that wouldn't quit despite her apparent overnight success?

She needed to shake things up. Get out of here. Try writing somewhere else.

However, as she gathered her writing tools and slid them into a leather satchel, her phone rang and one glance at the screen had her heart stalling.

Logan.