Don’t Fall For A Dreamer (Wayward Lane Backstage #3)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

EVERT

I ’d been witness to a lot of performances in my life. Some great, some shitty, and a few I’d never forget. But watching Jesse, in my home, taking that acoustic guitar in hand and finally letting loose on it? Chills ran up and down my body and they wouldn’t stop. I was so turned on that I was about to embarrass myself in front of my guests. Thank fuck for low lighting, baggy jeans, and the distraction of my camera.

Jesse was a damn good manager, but he was made for music. And how he’d denied himself for years, I couldn’t fathom. Then again, heartbreak does strange things to a person. Like death, there’s grieving. It changes you.

Brodie and Holloway belted out the chorus, with the rest of the guys, including Jesse, harmonizing. The sound was unreal. I moved closer to them, crouching down, changing the angle of my shot. Jesse looked over and when his dark eyes came into focus, it was like he was singing right to me. That was ridiculous. I wasn’t the one he was thinking about. The song was about running away from your feelings. Or, trying to, and finally realizing that the person you were running from was, in fact, the only one you wanted.

Was Jesse still hung up on his former bandmate?

I forced myself to turn away from him, and from that question, and snapped candid shots of the rest of the guys as fast as I could. I’m sure Averell would want these pictures for the world tour promo, but I didn’t want to share them with anyone. It was way too personal. For the band, maybe not. But for Jesse? Oh yes. And in turn, for me. The professional distance I was so good at maintaining ripped away the moment Jesse was in front of me.

Fuck, I was falling. I knew it, I felt it, and I didn’t see any other way but down. If this was all me, it was gonna hurt like hell when I landed alone.

I looked around the room and all my guests were silent. Like me, they held their collective breath, transfixed by the performance. After Running Start, the guys sang Filthy Pain, and Nine Gone Wrong; one major hit after another.

Afterwards, Brodie thanked my guests, and the clapping erupted. Everyone stood up to take a bow. Everyone, but Jesse. He sat there, frozen, clutching the guitar, his head down. Was he okay?

I started to make my way towards him when Averell caught my arm.

“This has inspired me. We’ll do an unplugged set somewhere on the tour. A VIP event. Maybe in Barcelona? Or Paris? That would make an excellent photo op, wouldn’t you agree? Something more intimate?”

“You’re the boss,” I replied and kept on walking.

There was only one thing I cared about in this moment and it wasn’t the tour. When I finally reached Jesse, he was still holding the guitar in his hands. I sat down on the vacant seat beside him.

“That was incredible, cari?o.”

Jesse glanced up at me and this close, I noticed that his deep brown eyes were glassy. The result of liquid courage? If so, would he remember anything from tonight?

“Why do you keep calling me that?” he asked.

“Because it suits you.”

“Darling?” he quipped, barking out a laugh. “Not quite. Try again.”

Jesse sat back and I didn’t miss the long once over he gave me. Suddenly, I was the one in need of a drink.

“At first, I did it to provoke you,” I admitted, my heart hammering hard in my chest. “But now I can’t stop saying it. And yes, it suits you.”

“You speak any other words in Spanish?” he teased me, ignoring my comment.

“I do. I’m bilingual. My grandmother, my abuela, taught me. She was from Mexico City. She came to live with me and my mom and stepdad in Maryland when I was ten.”

“Is she an artist like you?”

I smiled. “She was. A painter, in fact.”

Looking around, I pointed to several landscapes on the wall across from us. “Bold colors were her signature. She was passionate about many things, including art, family, and life.”

“Like you?”

I shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “Art and life, yes. Family? I’m still having problems with that one.”

Jesse nodded and finally set the guitar aside.

“I know what you mean. I left Oklahoma at seventeen. Haven’t seen my family since. My parents or my brother. They don’t accept that I’m gay.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jesse shrugged. “I’ve made my own life, and I live it on my terms.”

“I know all about that.”

Jesse cleared his throat. “You’ve got a beautiful home.”

I leaned in closer to him. “Thanks, but I can’t say I’m going to miss it when we’re on tour. Being surrounded by art, yes, but this condo, not really. I moved in here after Zachary died but I never really got around to making it my home. It’s just a place I lay my head at night.”

Jesse’s knee brushed mine and I squirmed in my seat. What if I moved closer, and reached for his hand? Would he touch me back, or would he get up and walk away? And why did the latter fill me with dread? Usually, I didn’t worry about someone rejecting me. But this wasn’t ‘someone’. It was Jesse.

“Evert?”

I glanced up to find Amber standing in front of me. Odd, how I didn’t even notice anyone else in the room but Jesse.

“What’s up?” I asked her.

“I’ve got to get going. But I wanted to talk to you before I left. Do you have a moment?”

Fuck, not now. Not when I’d finally gotten through to Jesse. Before I even had a chance to respond to Amber, Jesse reached for the guitar again and stood up.

“I’ve got to return this to Holls,” he muttered. “Excuse me.”

I watched Jesse stalk off, and cursed under my breath.

“I’m sorry,” Amber added. “Did I interrupt something?”

She had, but I was too polite to say anything.

“It’s okay,” I replied with my professional smile in place.

It wasn’t. I was frustrated and all because of one stubborn, sexy man. But I wasn’t going to let one setback get to me. He wasn’t the only one who was headstrong.

Jesse

My hands were still shaking. From playing that damn guitar or from sitting next to Evert, I didn’t fucking know. But it was clear that I’d had enough of both for one night. It was time to go home.

I made my way through the crowd, until I spotted Brodie and Van.

“Have you seen Holls?” I asked them. “I want to give him back his guitar.”

“He’s already gone. I guess he forgot about it,” Van explained. “Do you mind taking it back home with you?”

I didn’t want to touch the guitar anymore, but then I realized I sounded like a fool. It was an instrument, not the bogeyman.

“Sure,” I replied. “I guess it’s time I head home. See you guys tomorrow.”

“Before you leave, I have an idea I want to run by you,” Brodie added.

I glanced at him and the knowing smirk on his face made me shake my head.

“No. Whatever crazy notion you’re thinking about, Brodie, the answer’s no.”

Brodie laughed. “You don’t even know what I’m gonna say.”

I knew that whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be easy.

“Okay, hit me with it.”

Brodie ran a hand over his jaw. “I want you to perform with us on tour.”

I swear my heart stopped beating for a second.

“No way. Absolutely not,” I replied vehemently.

“Are you telling me that you don’t miss being on stage? Not at all?” Brodie returned.

“Dee,” Van warned.

“He’s fucking amazing Van, you heard it too,” Brodie snapped.

“I did, but it’s Jesse’s decision to make. Not yours,” Van replied calmly.

Van was always the steady counterbalance to Brodie’s lightning quick storm. That’s what made them such a formidable couple.

I stared at Van, then at Brodie.

“Look, I appreciate the invite. And the praise. But I left performing a long time ago. I’m good working behind the scenes. It’s where I belong. Not with you and the guys. Not now and not again.”

“Think about it, Jesse,” Brodie insisted. “It’s an open invitation.”

Jesus Christ, I shouldn’t have said yes tonight. Not to this event, not to picking up this fucking guitar, not to any of it. What had I unleashed? I knew Brodie and how determined he was when he set his mind on something. And now my gut was telling me that this world tour was going to be an even bigger challenge to deal with.

I sighed and shook my head. “It’s not my life anymore, Dee.”

“You can be a musician and a manager,” he countered. “They’re not mutually exclusive. You know I’m fucking right.”

I ignored his statement, like I’d ignore any further requests to join him on stage. This was ridiculous.

“I gotta go,” I replied.

I needed to get the fuck out of here. Reaching for my phone with my free hand, I tapped on my rideshare app and headed for the door. What I really wanted to do was head out to a dive bar and drink until I couldn’t remember my name. But no way was I walking around Nashville late at night with an expensive guitar in my hand. I was buzzed, not stupid.

I got as far as the door, when suddenly, Amber appeared. Minus Evert. Glancing back, I searched the room and found him standing in the kitchen, throwing back a shot of something. Maybe he and Amber had a fight?

“He’s an incredible man,” Amber stated.

I turned back to her. “Excuse me?”

“Evert. He’s not only an exceptional artist, a true professional, but a very kind friend,” she paused and smiled. “Just a friend.”

Why was she telling me this?

“It doesn’t matter to me,” I replied.

I shoved my phone in my pocket and reached for the door, motioning for her to go first. We stepped into the brightly lit hallway, and the chatter of the party silenced when the door closed behind us. It was quiet. Too quiet.

I started down the hallway, guitar in hand, my palm itching.

“He kept staring at you the whole time he was talking to me,” Amber continued. “I assumed that meant?—”

“No.”

Her smile turned sad. “Sorry, my mistake. It’s the first time since Zachary died that I’ve seen that light in his eyes. I thought you were the reason why.”

I wasn’t anyone’s reason.

“We work together,” I explained. “That’s all.”

“Strange,” she commented and stalked off towards the elevator.

“What is?” I called out.

She turned around and stared at me.

“Evert said the exact same thing. And you know what? I didn’t believe him either.”