Matched, page 24
She had to let him go. She wasn’t built for a public life. Sooner or later, she’d repeat her mistake from Colorado, or her mistakes from college with her gift, and his family, his friends—they were all right.
This time, it would be worse. This time, instead of building him up for his destiny, she’d tear it down, piece by piece, by being the freak show in Billy Brenton’s life. The girl who couldn’t handle crowds. Who panicked over the sight of a microphone. Who wanted him to stay home, with her, every day, and never go on tour again.
She couldn’t ask that of him. He’d been hers for a month, but in his regularly scheduled life, he was Billy. The BillyVision videos, the way he lost himself in writing songs, that broad, unfiltered country boy smile that lit the whole stage when he was on it—Will loved being Billy. He was born to be Billy.
And she would only be in his way.
Will’s voice echoed out of the hangar, half-drowned by the crowd singing along with him.
She was missing part of his show.
The only show she’d ever see, but not the last show he would ever perform. He had thousands of crowds to entertain still, and she wasn’t the woman he needed by his side.
“You want to go back, or you need more air?” Jackson said.
Lindsey gulped in one more big breath.
She wanted to go home. She wanted to run away, pack her bags, and move to Siberia with Kimmie.
But she couldn’t run out on Will.
He deserved an honest good-bye this time. “I’m ready,” she said.
They returned to the hangar with the BillyVision crew flanking them, the camera off. Will was alone onstage, all the lights down except a single spotlight on him. He was settled on a stool, adjusting his mic. He scanned the crowd, then gave his guitar a strum. Something sweet but hard came out. He looked at Lindsey. “Y’all want to hear something new?” he said.
The crowd went wild. Even through her earplugs, Lindsey heard the roar.
“This one here’s going out to a special lady tonight,” Will said. “She asked me to write a happy song.”
Lindsey’s heart stuttered. She’d almost missed her song.
She shouldn’t have asked him to write it. She didn’t belong in his life. She wasn’t strong enough to live in his life.
He smiled, and then music poured from his fingers.
It filled the hangar, the sounds of strength and softness, and wrapped around her. The sounds weren’t comforting, weren’t comfortable, but they were right.
She didn’t want to let the sound in. But she couldn’t walk away. Because this could be the last thing he ever gave her.
“A black heart don’t know how to love, that’s what they all said,” he sang.
Lindsey’s breath caught on a lump in her throat.
“That smile, it lies, those eyes, they hypnotize, but ain’t nothing can hide the dark inside.”
Wait. This—this—was his song to her?
Maybe he did understand the end was coming.
He closed his eyes, and he went all into the song.
But that heart, it wasn’t born coal,
Took a lifetime to freeze it cold,
She’s what they let her believe, can’t dance, can’t sing, can only hide.
Hiding.
He thought she was hiding.
And he wasn’t wrong.
“But she’s more,” Will sang.
She’s more than she knows,
She’s more than she shows,
The world can’t see it,
She’s hiding it deep,
But my girl, my angel,
Your black heart glows.
Oh, baby, that rainbow in your heart glows.
Lindsey hugged herself tighter.
He was—his song—he could see her. He saw how she thought the world saw her, and he saw so much more.
You believed in me, he’d said.
He opened his eyes, slid a look at her.
She listened to the judging, watched them shut her out,
Misunderstood, called wrong,
She hurts, but she’s strong,
So she took a pen and wrote it on her heart.
He was telling her story.
More, he was telling her he believed in her.
He believed she could be everything he needed her to be.
She blinked quickly.
This was not a happy song.
Will closed his eyes again.
A whole world of being alone,
Of being told she don’t belong,
And now her heart’s colored over, black ink, sharp stings, a girl apart.
“But she’s more,” Will sang.
She’s more than she knows,
She’s more than she shows,
The world can’t see it,
She’s hiding it deep,
But my girl, my angel, your black heart glows.
Oh, baby, that rainbow in your heart glows.
The music changed. It went deeper and softer, the combination of sounds and rhythm and speed making her heart beat in time with the music.
He took an audible breath in the microphone.
Now it’s my turn to paint your heart, put the color back on your soul,
Red and blue, yellow, green, let me show the world the you that I know,
Trust me one more time,
Love me one more time,
I want to write our best story on your heart.
“Because you’re more,” he sang.
You’re more than you know,
And you’re only starting to show,
The world’s gonna see it,
Don’t hide it deep.
My girl, my angel, your rainbow heart glows.
Baby, let that rainbow in your heart glow.
Lindsey was short of breath and her cheeks were wet.
He loved her.
Will loved her.
He knew her, he saw her, and he still loved her.
But love wasn’t always enough.
Not when she could never be the girl Billy Brenton needed.
SATURDAY MORNING, Lindsey and Will slept in. Considering how late his show went, and then the extra hour he stayed afterward to sign autographs from the stage, she was surprised either of them moved before noon.
She hadn’t mentioned her encounter with his BillyVision crew. She didn’t want to get them in trouble, but more, she selfishly wanted one last day with Will, with no thoughts of Billy.
But then he asked if he could take her an hour down the road to Pickleberry Springs. To his home.
To a place where Lindsey was quite possibly the only person qualified to help his family.
She knew Sacha most likely wouldn’t be there. That Will hadn’t heard from her in a week, that Mikey’s momma was reporting there wasn’t a person in Pickleberry Springs who had seen her and that Will had hired a friend of Mikey’s to track her down.
But his Aunt Jessie would be there. Aunt Jessie’s husband would be there.
And even though Will didn’t ask Lindsey to use her gift, she knew he’d be watching to see what she saw.
“Will,” she said, “this won’t change us.”
She wanted to go with him. But she needed to be strong. She had to say good-bye to him tomorrow. Today was the last day she had to help him. She had to walk away tomorrow. She had to stick to her rule.
For both their sakes.
“You ever been in the land of moonshine and armadillos?” Will asked.
She shook her head. He told her to hustle her cute little butt on up into his truck and let him be in charge for one day out of twenty-one. So mid-afternoon, they pulled into Will’s hometown. It was on the run-down side, with shops needing new paint and roads needing patches. But every person on Main Street waved at Lindsey and Will as they drove through, most of them before they realized who was driving.
A tattered sign across the road advertised a 5k for wounded warriors over Presidents’ Day weekend, and a group of Girl Scouts sold cookies outside the small-town grocery store. There was an honest-to-God Curl Up and Dye hair salon sharing space with a taxidermist. An antique store housed in a bright red single-wide trailer. A shed with a homemade Deer Processing sign next to a wooden stand with Boiled Peanuts painted across the top.
“Boiled peanuts?” Lindsey said.
Will smiled at her, glowing with pride and affection for his hometown. “Culinary delight,” he said. “Not in season, though. See? You hadn’t come, you’d never know they existed. You’re welcome, for exposing you to some culture.”
He waved at another passerby stepping out of Elsie’s Diner. “Good fried catfish there,” he said. Then he flipped on his blinker and hung a right away from downtown. Two minutes later, he took a left on Billy Brenton Lane—“Was Mildred Street growing up,” he told her with a ruddy hue coming to his cheeks. Then he stopped the truck at the curb of a dinky ranch with holly bushes under the front windows. Pansies lined the short walk to the little white house.
The house next door, equally dinky but painted a sunny yellow, had a real estate SOLD sign stuck amidst the rainbow pinwheels spinning over the brown grass. A sign in the front window advertised psychic readings, and a Winnebago was parked out front.
Will’s gaze caught on the Winnebago, and he visibly relaxed, a short, relieved breath slipping between his lips.
But Lindsey shivered.
She was wrong. She shouldn’t be here. She didn’t deserve to meet his family, didn’t deserve to interfere and weigh in on a situation that was none of her business. “Will—”
“They all know you’re gone after tomorrow.”
“Do you?”
She’d needed to say it for a long time, but she hadn’t had the courage.
He turned in his seat to face her, his eyes the most serious she’d ever seen. “You like being a divorce lawyer? It make you happy?”
Her fists clenched instinctively. So did her jaw. “So now you want to judge my choices too.”
It was an easy fight to pick.
But Will didn’t blink or flinch. He just kept that steady gaze on her. “Ain’t judging. Asking. I know why you do it—got some appreciation for that—but I’ve been watching you, Lindsey. I don’t care what you do, so long as you’re doing what makes you happy. Eating babies, swimming with the sharks, spinning on a stripper pole in Vegas, whatever. But that shine I saw when we were kids, that light you had when you talked about changing the world—it’s not there anymore.”
Even with his steadfast focus, there was a desperation in his voice, as though the cracks in her life were his failing. If he could’ve been this guy—this sweet, honest, determined man—without the Billy factor, she would’ve crawled into his lap and asked him to marry her and promised him she’d spend the rest of her life doing nothing more than making him as happy as he’d made her the last three weeks. She’d always thought she was even-tempered, but he’d weathered mood swings and a constant ticking clock and her gift—her curse—with unwavering grace and humor and dedication.
“I heard you,” she said. “I heard the song. I know. But Will, not every gift is a blessing. Not every talent should be in the spotlight.”
He opened his mouth, that stubborn look telling her she was about to get a Will Truitt–style talkin’ to. But then a creepy-crawly sensation slunk down her arms and spine, and a single rap at her window made her jump.
She turned and found a tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed woman gazing down a long nose at her.
“You came.”
Even with the windows closed, Lindsey heard her. And suddenly she understood what Will meant when he talked about the hairs on his hairs standing up. Lindsey wasn’t one to ruminate on mystic essences—having an internal anti-matchmaking barometer was quite enough—but she shivered all the way from her hair follicles out to the edges of her aura.
Will hit a button to roll Lindsey’s window down, then swung his own door open and climbed out. “Christ Almighty, Sacha, don’t sneak up on people.” He walked around the truck and gathered the wispy woman in a tight hug, the bottom of her long flowery dress ruffling in the breeze.
Sacha wrapped her arms around him and visibly squeezed him back. “Look at you. I haven’t seen you this content in years.”
“Good to be home. Good to see you home.”
“And you brought her. Good. We all need her.”
Will frowned. He let Sacha go, then opened Lindsey’s door. Before he could make introductions, Sacha wrapped her arms around Lindsey and grasped her tightly. “You’ll do what needs doing,” Sacha whispered. “Be brave. Be bold. Trust yourself. And you’ll find the balance you seek.”
The atmosphere shrank, the houses and trees and cars and Sacha all closing in around Lindsey. The ground went wobbly, and the pungent odor of old burnt oil assaulted Lindsey’s nose. She forced air into her lungs and willed her heart to slow.
“Sacha. Let her go.”
Will’s quiet order was effective. The woman released her hold, and when she turned her dark gaze on Lindsey this time, the intensity was gone. She continued to study Lindsey while Lindsey studied her. Sacha’s face was devoid of makeup, she wore no jewelry, no embellishments anywhere, save a toe ring. Her dark hair hung straight. Her shoulders and elbows were bony and pointed, and the muumuu hid her figure, but her grip was stronger than her figure would’ve indicated.
Sacha’s lips wobbled and her brows knit together. “Having a gift makes for a lonely life,” she said. “True friends make all the difference.”
It was, and they did. And Lindsey suspected that even Will, having all the complications of being Billy Brenton, couldn’t fully understand what the freak factor did to finding those true friends.
Lindsey honestly couldn’t fully understand either. She didn’t live her talent like Sacha did.
“Aunt Jessie will come around.” Will leaned against his truck. He looped one arm around Sacha, grabbed Lindsey’s hand with the other. “Donnie doesn’t have anything on you, and she’ll figure that out soon enough.”
“I’ve fulfilled my destiny here,” Sacha said. “It’s time I move on.”
“Time you stay put,” Will said.
“You may have bought my house, but you can’t make me stay.”
“You might leave, but you’ll still be my family,” Will shot back. “Appreciate it if you quit ignoring my calls.”
Sacha didn’t answer. Instead, she eyed Lindsey.
A tremor started deep in Lindsey’s bones.
“I should’ve waited until you came,” Sacha said. “Jessie loves him too much to believe me, and now I’ve broken my own family.”
And Aunt Jessie most likely hated Lindsey enough that Lindsey’s opinion would carry negative weight.
Sacha was screwed.
“In my experience,” Lindsey said, “there’s never a good time to tell your friends anything they don’t want to hear about their love lives.”
“Never?” Sacha said.
Five little letters, carried by a tone that said there were as many reasons as there were stars.
“Will’s right,” Lindsey said. “You should take his calls. Having a gift can make for a lonely life, especially if you shut your family out.”
Sacha pursed her lips, then patted Will’s chest. “Come see me before you leave.”
“You staying that long?”
“William. Such a question.” She pulled away from him with a reluctance that bespoke finality. Lindsey hadn’t yet been able to quell her shivers, and they got worse when Sacha’s gaze lingered on her. “Fearlessness would suit you. You’re hiding your light as sure as you hide your smiles.”
She didn’t say good-bye but instead turned and floated to the clapboard bungalow next door, her flowered muumuu trailing behind her.
Lindsey turned a baby-eater glare on Will, because it was easier than wondering if Sacha would leave as soon as they were out of sight. “Did you tell everyone what ‘Snow Angel Smiles’ is about?”
He rubbed a weary hand over his face. “Didn’t have to. You know how hard it is being a teenager with a psychic pseudo-mom?”
Despite everything, there she went, smiling at him all over again, falling harder for this adorable country man.
His answering grin was half-strength. “You wanna go see my old bedroom?”
“Is that a pickup line?”
“Come on inside and you’ll find out.”
How was a girl supposed to resist an offer like that?
Chapter Nineteen
MUCH AS WILL wanted to show Lindsey his bedroom, Aunt Jessie took priority.
When they pushed into the house, she spun toward them. She was wearing one of his older Billy Brenton T-shirts over pink polyester pants. Her curly hair fanned out in back, her clear blue eyes wide, a flash of disappointment drawing them down before she found her smile. “My Will. You’re home.”
She’d been staring at her wedding photo on the floral-papered wall. Over the years, Aunt Jessie had had various wedding pictures hanging in that spot. Only thing that changed was the groom. When Will and Mari Belle moved in, it had been one of four pictures on the wall. Aunt Jessie had added more pictures of the three of them as they grew—Aunt Jessie, Will, and Mari Belle. At the beach in Panama City. Catching fish in the Flint River. Standing around Mari Belle with all her awards when she graduated high school.
Last time he’d been here, there had been more.
Because last time he’d been here, half the pictures had had Sacha in them too. Now, instead, there were blank spots on the wall, nonfaded squares that felt like bruises on his heart.
Sacha would leave again while he was here. He knew she would.
But he’d track her down. He wouldn’t let her be alone. Wouldn’t let her believe she’d lost them all.
He pulled Aunt Jessie into a hug, even though he wanted to shake her. “Missed you at the show.”
“You’re much better among smaller audiences.” She squeezed him hard—harder than Sacha had, and Sacha had near about squeezed the stuffing out of him.
