Say It Strong (Say You Love Me Book 2) (8 page)

Rosemary was right—the very thought scared the crap out of me. After four years with Samuel, I felt my stomach flip at the thought of being with someone new…someone different…someone built like an ancient Greek statue.
Holy heaven.

The concrete parking lot turned to a Chattahoochee gravel walkway, and before I knew it, I was on the path to someplace beautiful. Literally. All around me, bees buzzed, butterflies flitted, and the smell of summer hung crisp and refreshing. Big, shady trees lined the path, and laughter dotted the landscape like an allegro melody suspended on a staff. Scattered on the bright green lawn lay several blankets with members of our road crew on them, soaking up some sun or having a picnic. The relaxed ambience put a big smile on my face for the first time since I’d left New York.

In the garden, on the other side of the central fountain, someone was singing a Point Break song. It was one of their other ballads, the one they’d done acoustically last night. It wasn’t half bad. It left a soulful echo in my mind. Whoever was singing did a fantastic Liam Collier impression. I hummed along, strolling around the fountain. In my head, I imagined propping up my cello and accompanying the singer, just one of those spontaneous
let’s make music together
things you see happen in YouTube videos all the time. But of course, I didn’t have my cello, and even if I did, I wouldn’t do it.

“
When I get you alone…when I get you alone…
” The voice crooned into a falsetto then cracked artfully, like warm honey being poured in an open wound.

Wait…

Rounding the fountain where the singing was loudest, I froze. Was it him? Out here in the garden in the middle of the day?
Well, it’s not like he’s a vampire, Abby. The man
is
allowed to roam during daylight.

Without the screeching guitars to weigh down his voice, his vocals—if it was him—were even more lovely, melodious, rich, and layered. Another few steps, and I edged my way around the stone benches by the fountain. A light mist of watery spray dissipated in the breeze, cooling my skin. I inched closer.

And then I saw him, though he wasn’t alone.

Heart in my throat, I retreated and listened…

Liam

It wasn’t every day that Tucker Benning acted like a decent human being, but every so often, he climbed out of his dickhead clothes and put down his bottle of Grey Goose. He might even take a walk with me away from prying ears and eyes to listen to me brood in a garden full of flowers and fountains and other pretty shit.

“So, what’s up?” He planted one foot on a stone bench and stretched his bass drum leg, then the other.

“There’s a girl…” I said.

His face swiveled toward me. “Please don’t say that. There can’t be a girl.”

“There might be a girl.”

“Liam, last time there was a girl, she pitted us all against each other.”

“She’s nothing like Giselle. At all.” I began pacing down the stone benches then back up again.

“So she’s short, fat, and ugly?” Tucker reasoned, doing his best to commiserate.

“Dude. That is so offensive. You need to stop doing that.”

Tucker twisted his body at the waist and cracked his back. Thirteen hours on a bus could make your body freeze up. “I’m just kidding, man. Okay, so who is it?”

“I can’t tell you. Yet. But I will say this—she’s so different, it’s refreshing. In fact, she’s so different…she probably hates me.”

“Refreshing? Different?” He mocked me. “From what? Women are all the same, bro.”

“They’re not, Tuck. Remember Katyna?”

“The one you used to salivate over every time she walked by in the hall?”

“No, there was nothing to salivate over. Okay, no, that’s not what I mean. What I mean is, she wasn’t just eye candy. Katyna was in my drama class. She was smart, funny, full of wit. She blew the other girls away with her pure self. Do you know what I mean?”

“Oh, you mean before…”

Yes, before I met Vanessa. I’d been too scared to chat up Katyna, so I went for Vanessa instead. I’d really cared about her. I think she loved me more than I loved her, even though she taught me loads about myself, and I would always appreciate her. Unfortunately, I’d ended up hurting her, and the memory still left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Tucker’s arms reached the sky, then his whole body swooped down to touch the ground. He looked like one of those old jazzercise exercise gurus my mom still liked to watch sometimes. “I think I’m feeling you. So what you’re saying is, she was all class, and because of it, she refused to give you the time of day.”

“Yeah.” That sounds about right. “Yeah, that’s what this girl is like.”

“So she’s not eye candy?” Tucker raised one eyebrow.

“She could be, but not in the typical way. She’s natural. And it drives me ape-shit bonkers that she won’t talk to me. Absolutely bat-shit crazy. Not because I can’t take it when a girl doesn’t give me the time of day. On one hand, part of me wants to show her that I can be a nice guy. On the other hand, part of me is like,
Dude, you’re crazy. You’ve only talked to her twice, and she’s nothing like you.
”

“Your brain talks to you like that?” Tucker recoiled as if a snake had bitten him.

“You don’t get it. I want to talk to her, ask her questions and shit, but it’s like…like I feel like a fucking sewer rat. I don’t get that way about anybody, Tuck. You know this.”

“Hmm. I feel you. Maybe you could start by not saying
fucking
and
shit
when you’re around her. Just talk to her, Liam. Tell her you like her because she’s different. A little persistence never hurt anyone.”

“She’s already decided she doesn’t want to like me,” I said, but even as I said it, I knew she could change her mind. If only I could impress her with something—music, most likely, but even then…why would I want to?

I had more girls than I’d ever need.

“Well, then your reputation precedes you.” For a minute, we were quiet, and then he laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was just remembering…” Tucker actually looked off into the distance, as if seeing his memory there. “How bad you wanted girls to like you in high school. So bad, you took drama as your elective so that they’d
have
to talk to you in fake situations.”

“You have to admit that was pretty clever of me,” I said.

He reached into the fountain and stirred his hand around in the water. “Now you’re surrounded by women, and the one you want is the one you can’t have. Go fuckin’ figure.”

I watched him. Garrick was right. This was why I’d needed to talk to Tuck. He had a way of putting things in perspective. I cleared my throat and sang the opening notes of
When I Get You Alone
one more time. I was trying out a catchy new opening that would segue right into the recorded version.

“Don’t get too experimental with that opening, bro. You know how the minions get. They like their music like they like their dead bodies—recognizable.”

I stared at him from beneath knitted eyebrows. “What the fuck, Tuck?”

“I don’t know. I just like making shit up.”

I tried the opening again. Maybe it was last night’s cello solo and hearing Abby bring real music to the stage, but I wanted to try something a little more melodious, something that would sound like I took more than twenty minutes writing it.

“What was that noise?” Tucker straightened like a meerkat to scan the garden grounds. “Liam, we shouldn’t be out here so close to the fence.”

“Why, because the forest abounds with evil butterflies?” I did my best impression of a villainous garden insect.

“Dude, because you know as well as I do that once the fans know we’re out here so close to city sidewalks, they’ll come tromping over for pics and autographs. Let’s go. It’s getting late.”

Suddenly, the crunch of gravel beneath rubber soles sounded nearby. I stopped, pointing to my ear. Tucker nodded. We listened. There was no more crunching, but the moment we took another couple of steps, more crunching. Someone was hiding nearby and trying to mask their footsteps by mirroring ours.

“Hey, who’s there?” I asked.

It was silly, the way someone hovered there, breathing quietly, just out of view. I hoped it wasn’t a paparazzo. Next thing you knew, Tuck and I would be on the cover of
Rumor Magazine
with the headline, Liam Collier Trysts with Tuck in Garden.

“It’s just me,” said a familiar voice. “I swear I wasn’t eavesdropping. I was just walking…and I saw you here. So I tried to be quiet and waited.” Abby came around the fountain looking lovelier than a summery Seattle day.

The first thing that happened was, my heartbeat picked up speed. There she was—the very girl I’d been talking about, the object of my strange obsession. The second thing that happened was, I gave her a smile. Not a Liam Collier heart-zinger, but a real, genuine
so glad to see you
smile. She made me feel like I was middle-school Liam again.

Tucker made a show of buttoning up his shirt. “Oh, hey, Asian Persuasion. No drinks today, I hope?” He took a few dramatic steps away from her.

“You have a death wish, don’t you, man?” I mumbled to him.

“No,” she said, “but if I did have a drink to spill on you again, you’d deserve it.” Abby padded out of the shadows in her cute long skirt, tank top clinging to her adorable, tight body, and a pair of flip-flops.

“Abby,” I said. “Rule number one…don’t ever,
ever
listen to any crap this guy has to say. Ever.” I pointed to Tucker, who smiled with his mouth open, a cat panting in the summer heat. “He is only trying to push your buttons, okay?”

“That is so true, Abby.” Tucker nodded somberly. “I can admit that now, because I’m sober.”

She glanced down sheepishly and tucked her dark hair behind her ears. “What about you?” She looked up, straight at me, eyes connected with mine a moment too long. “Should I take offense when you say some girls are not eye candy? Some are just natural?”

Ouch. Um…
“I didn’t say being eye candy was all good. And I did say you could be eye candy if you wanted. But why would you?
You
are a goddess from heaven, a veritable Venus on the half shell, a cello-playing enigma!” I gave that last word a little flair of hand. Shit, I was overdoing it.

Thank God, Abby laughed quietly at that. “Yeah, okay…sounds like complete and utter horseshit to me.” She laughed again.

“Ssszzzz…scorch!” Tucker cried. Then he looked at me, then at Abby, then at me again, and his mouth fell open. Suddenly, he understood. For once in his life, nothing came out. His pointer finger did a little dance between me and Abby, then he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned back the way we’d come. “I’m just gonna get going. I’ll leave you two…
alone
,” he sang the last word in a Barry White way. “Oh, but before I go…can you tell me what time it is?” he asked Abby.

I almost laughed while she pulled out her phone. “One thirty.”

“Thanks.” He smiled like the fucktard idiot he was.

We watched Tucker leave, and it gave us a few moments to absorb the inevitable—we were going to talk now. “Why was that so funny?” She turned back to me.

“What? Oh, the time thing? He just got you to give him the time of day.” I laughed to myself. “Don’t worry about it. Insider joke.”

“No, I get it.” She shook her head in embarrassment.

“Tucker’s a good guy,” I said. I lay down on the stone bench and stretched out. It wasn’t until then that I realized I was still wearing pajama pants with my tank. I sat back up so I wouldn’t so obviously display myself. “What are the chances that you’d go walking in the garden at the same time I did? Unless...”

“Unless?” she asked.

“Unless it was no accident. You followed me here.” I made spooky, crazy eyebrows that made her giggle. “Abby Chan, you’re not stalking me, are you?”

I was relieved to find that her sense of humor was a little more intact today. “No.”

“Good. Because this just might be a sign.”

“This?”

“This…us meeting here. Kismet, grokking.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” She laughed, shaking her head. I hoped she was finding me silly in a cute way, not stupid.

“It’s the utter horseshit again, remember?” I laughed. “What I mean is, my parents have always believed in signs. And they’ve been married thirty years. Thirty years. Complete and total opposites, my parents are. Fell in love at a U2 concert at eighteen, and they’ve been together ever since.”

“Wow, that’s amazing.”

I nodded. “It really is. They’re very inspiring to me, you know. In this world where everyone gets divorced at the drop of a hat, my mom and dad are still there, still having fun, still proving everybody wrong.”

“Why do you think that is?” she asked.

“Because they have fun,” I said. That was the truth. My parents didn’t take stuff so seriously. They always knew when to say
fuck it
and go have a beer outside, or
fuck it
and go make love upstairs, or
fuck it,
let’s take the kids on a vacation
.
We don’t have the money, but who cares? Let’s do it anyway.