Cerella Sechrist - A Song For Rory

“Wait, back up.”

Sawyer stopped speaking as she held up a hand, but his mouth remained open as he registered her words.

“You’re having a hard time composing music?”

His jaw snapped closed, and he looked almost guilty.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” She began pacing, her steps trying to keep rhythm with her racing heart. “You’re blocked. That’s what all this is about. You’re feeling the pressure to top your first album, and you don’t have anything to write about.”

“Rory, that’s not it.”

She couldn’t even look at him. Because if she did, she might be foolish enough to believe his protests.

“It makes sense you’d come back now. You’re probably due for some studio time, am I right?”

When he remained silent, she had her answer. She found the courage to stop moving and turn her attention on him.

“You thought you could come back here and have some sort of...what, summer fling with me? To kick-start your creativity?”

He appeared offended by the suggestion but a little embarrassed, too. Which only proved her point.

Sawyer hadn’t come back to Findlay Roads because he loved her, because he missed her. He’d come back because he needed a muse. This realization drained the last of her anger and left her feeling sad and tired.

“I really need to get back to work.”

“Rory.”

He stepped toward her, but she automatically took a step back. The hurt in his expression was like a knife to the chest, but she steeled herself against it.

“I’m not here because I need to write new songs. I’m here for you.”

“But it’s not that simple, is it?” she countered, her voice flat.

He conceded with a nod, and for some reason, it felt a little too much like surrender on his part. Was he really giving up so easily? She shook her head, confused. Shouldn’t she want him to give up? To go back to Nashville and leave her in peace?

“I really do need to get back to the restaurant.” Connor was probably worried about her, plus she didn’t like asking her coworkers to pick up her slack.

Sawyer sighed. “Okay. Then is there another time we could talk? There’s some stuff I’d really like to get off my chest.”

She bristled. Not only did he need a muse, but he also wanted her to be his confessor? Nearly two years without a word, and now he was asking her to find time for him to unburden his guilt? Well, maybe she’d show him what it felt like to be humiliated and abandoned.

“Fine then. How about tomorrow?” she offered, keeping her tone cool. “You can stop by the restaurant in the afternoon, before the dinner rush. That’s when I normally get my break.”

Sawyer brightened considerably, and she felt a twinge of guilt. She’d just outright lied to him. She wasn’t scheduled to work tomorrow.

“You don’t think Connor will mind?”

“Leave Connor to me.”

Sawyer smiled. “Tomorrow. I’ll look forward to it.”

His hopeful expression cut into her heart, and she nearly opened her mouth to tell him the truth. But then she remembered how she’d felt, when he’d broken things off with her at the diner beside the Motel 8 in Little Rock, Arkansas. All because he’d been offered a recording contract, on the condition that he was a solo act with no Rory in tow.

She still remembered the words he’d spoken when he sat her down to end their relationship...

“I’m sorry, Rory, but it’s the opportunity of a lifetime. I can’t just pass it up for...” He’d trailed off, looking sheepish.

“For me,” she’d said, finishing the sentence for him. “For us.”

He’d sighed, the sound a huff of impatience. “They think I have a real shot, Rory—that I could be the next country music superstar. Only...it would be better if I was unattached, both musically and personally.”

“So I’m excess baggage, is that it?”

He’d made a gesture of dismissal. “You know it’s not like that. But sometimes, a person has to make sacrifices to go after what they want. And you and I have been together for so long. It’s probably about time we go our separate ways. You understand, right?”

She shuddered at the memory. Oh, she’d understood him all too well. It had been easy for him to toss her aside when something better came along. She had been his sacrifice, but she’d felt more like an old shoe, thrown out when no longer useful.

Because just like that, he’d severed thirteen years of love, friendship and collaboration. He’d drawn a line between who he was and who he wanted to be. He had never even checked in to see if she’d found her way safely back home to Findlay Roads.

Recalling that low point in her life, she managed to shake off her guilt at leading him on.

“Tomorrow,” she repeated, forcing her tongue around the lie. “I’ll see you then.”

CHAPTER THREE

SAWYER SHOWED UP at Callahan’s the next afternoon with a bouquet of flowers—purple freesias, Rory’s favorite—and a stack of autographed CDs for the restaurant staff. He felt a tingle of anticipation as he stepped toward the restaurant door, catching a brief reflection of himself in the windows. He’d chosen a casual, white button-down shirt, rolled up to his elbows, and he was wearing a faded pair of jeans. He’d ditched the baseball hat from yesterday, but he did wear a pair of sunglasses, both to combat the late-afternoon light and to hopefully stem any recognition as he walked into Connor’s establishment.

Fortunately for him, business was apparently slow this time of day, and he only glimpsed a few tables with patrons. He saw several servers moving around, though, probably preparing for the dinner rush. He approached the hostess stand and found the same young woman from the day before. She was speaking with another woman, petite and curvaceous with blond hair. She held a stack of menus in her hand, and he couldn’t help noticing the ring she wore. A claddagh ring, on her left hand. The two women turned as he stepped up to the podium.

Even with the sunglasses, the younger one from yesterday recognized him.

“Oh! It’s you!”

He smiled for her as he removed his shades. “It’s me,” he agreed.

The second woman cocked her head, as though trying to place him. He’d seen that look before, on the streets and at airports or at coffee shops, and even the grocery store. It was the look people got when they thought he was familiar but couldn’t quite believe he was someone famous.

“I’m Vanessa.” The younger woman held out a hand.

He shifted the CDs and flowers into one arm to respond to her handshake. “Nice to officially meet you, Vanessa. I’m—”

“Sawyer Landry. Of course you are.” She let her hand linger in his until he withdrew.

He slid a glance in the other woman’s direction and caught her frowning at him.

“Vanessa, can you take these into the back?” She shifted the stack of menus neatly into Vanessa’s arms.

“Oh, but Harper...can’t I stay here?” She looked from the blonde to him, and back again, obviously conveying some sort of coded message.

The one named Harper shook her head. “No, I think I’d better handle this.”

Sawyer steeled himself. Harper may have looked sweet and pleasant, but he had the feeling she was a formidable gatekeeper. He wondered if Rory had actually put her in place to keep him away. But why invite him back to the restaurant if she didn’t want to see him? Maybe just to get him off her back temporarily. The thought filled him with dismay. He’d been looking forward to this for the last twenty-four hours.

As Vanessa walked away with the menus in hand, Harper turned to face him.

“We haven’t met,” she began. “I’m Harper Worth, Connor’s fiancée.”

Sawyer’s eyebrows lifted. “Connor’s fiancée? Sorry, I didn’t realize he was engaged.”