Cerella Sechrist - A Song For Rory

As she sang her part of the song, she felt his eyes on her. She kept her focus on the audience, not wanting to see the look on his face, but at the same time, craving his attention. This was not good. She didn’t want to wish for anything from Sawyer, not even so much as a glance. But having him beside her filled up a vacant pocket of her spirit that she’d tried to forget was empty. Now with the two of them on the stage together, everything that had been misaligned for the last two years shifted into place.

She gave herself over to the song, closing her eyes and soaking in the lyrics and the soft strum of the guitar as their voices blended together on the bridge.

When you get lonely,

I’ll be everywhere you are...

When Sawyer strummed the last note, she kept her eyes closed for only a second longer before the coffeehouse crowd rattled the walls with thunderous applause. She opened her eyes and instead of looking at the audience, her gaze went straight to Sawyer. He was watching her, happiness lining his features. Her heart tugged at the sight of him, those warm blue eyes, the trademark scruff along his jawline and that light brown hair that occasionally fell over his forehead and into his eyes. She had missed him. Too much. She couldn’t let him back in again, after how thoroughly he’d shattered her world with his leaving.

She’d promised him she’d stick around, but their time on the stage was up. She had to get out of there before her heart overrode her head.

“Thanks for a great night, everyone!”

With that farewell, she moved past Sawyer and off the stage. He was still holding her guitar, but she decided she’d pick it up sometime over the weekend. Dave would see it was taken care of.

She nearly tripped down the two steps leading off the stage and began making her way to the door. Several people tried to stop her, but she cut off each of their comments with a thank-you and kept forging her way toward escape.

When she reached the exit, she spared a glance behind her. She saw Sawyer, surrounded by fans but his eyes centered solely on her. His expression had shifted from joy to hurt. He was obviously wounded by her quick departure. For a moment, she wondered if she should wait for him. But no, she couldn’t risk it.

She exited the café and headed for her pickup, at the far end of the parking lot. The sight of the truck’s peeling blue paint caused her to sigh with relief. It was like a refuge, offering shelter from everything going on outside its cozy little cab. Technically, the pickup was Connor’s. He’d started using it after their father’s death. But Rory had a lot of memories wrapped up in the vehicle. Patrick Callahan had purchased it shortly after he’d immigrated to the States with his two young children, following their mother’s death. To this day, the smell of sunbaked vinyl upholstery and engine oil always made her think of Sunday drives, wedged in the middle of the cab between her dad and brother. She hadn’t minded that Connor inherited the pickup because she knew he’d take good care of it, as their father had. But now that the restaurant was doing so well, and Connor was marrying Harper, he’d bought a more family-friendly SUV and given her use of their dad’s old truck.

She nearly ran the last few steps, then pulled open the door with a creak and climbed inside. She never locked it. It wasn’t worth stealing, and she kept nothing of value inside. But when she reached for the keys she usually kept hooked on the belt loop of her jeans, she frowned.

Oh, no. She’d left her keys beneath the counter of the bar inside. She pushed her head against the headrest and groaned. She couldn’t go back for them. No way.

Which meant that if she wanted to avoid Sawyer, she’d better start walking.

* * *

SAWYER MIGHT HAVE missed her if he hadn’t decided to swing by her apartment and make sure she’d made it home okay. It was a thinly veiled excuse to see her, but he didn’t much care at this point. She’d dodged him twice, and while he probably deserved it, he’d been hurt that she’d broken her promise to stick around at the coffee shop. He was preparing what to say to her as he drove, speaking the words aloud to the silence of his rental car.

“Rory, I know I don’t deserve it, but I would appreciate it if you could respect the relationship we had enough to hear me out.”

He cringed, considering how she’d respond to that little speech. It wasn’t as if he’d exhibited a lot of respect for their relationship when he’d dumped her. He drew a breath and tried again.

“It would mean a lot to me if you’d just listen to what I have to say.”

No better. He didn’t think she was much interested in what would mean a lot to him.

He cleared his throat and considered how to rephrase his request, then stopped as he noted a lone figure, striding briskly down the sidewalk ahead. He’d know those stiff shoulders anywhere. He accelerated a few feet ahead and slid the car into an empty space on the street. He killed the engine and exited the driver’s side just as Rory came abreast of the truck. She took one look at him and her jaw went slack.

“You followed me?”

“Hardly. You didn’t give me much of a chance to follow you anywhere after you bailed back at the Lighthouse.” He tried to keep his tone even, but a note of accusation still leaked through. “You promised you’d stay.”

She shifted from one foot to the other, and he recognized guilt in her expression. “I did stay,” she protested. “I stayed for your entire performance. Although if I’d known you planned to ambush me into taking the stage with you—”

“Which was not so different from what you did to me,” he pointed out. He had her there, and he could tell she knew it, too, by the way she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Her shoulders remained set, however.

“Rory, can we please talk?”

“You mean can you talk? I don’t imagine I’ll have much to say. And even if I did, it’s not as if you asked my opinion the last time we talked.”

He grimaced. Okay, so she was still hurt. Not that he could blame her, but maybe it had been a touch of arrogance on his part to assume she’d welcome him back, if not exactly warmly, then at least not with this degree of vehemence.

He glanced down the street. “Look, your apartment is only a few blocks from here. Let me drive you home. I’ll talk on the way. If you don’t like anything I have to say by the time we reach your place...” He drew a breath, afraid to gamble away his chance but knowing he couldn’t exactly keep showing up where he wasn’t wanted. “Then I’ll leave you alone. For good. Deal?”

She didn’t answer him right away but scuffed her heels on the pavement as she considered. After a long minute, during which he was pretty sure he’d held his breath for the entire sixty seconds, she nodded.

“Fine. Just until we reach the apartment.”

He should have felt relief, but he only experienced a wave of apprehension. He had less than five minutes to convince her.

He would have to talk fast.

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