Uncovering Hope (Uncovering Love Book 3) (22 page)

“HEY, KID. IT’S NOT TOO
late, is it?” The app on my phone brings Luis’ grinning face into view. Sweat drips off my bald head and I reach for a towel to wipe it away. Stage lights are no joke. We just finished another opening act for Justin Hill and I snuck back to the tour bus bathroom to get some FaceTime in before any of the guys notice and give me shit about not hanging backstage.

“No, it’s not that late.” Luis stifles a yawn.

“Not helping your case.” I laugh.

“Sorry, all I do is sleep and I’m still tired. How’s the tour?”

“Good, man. Played another packed house tonight.”

“Is Justin as cool as he seems?”

“Yeah, actually, the man is a musical genius. He can play every instrument on stage. And I’ve heard him sing during warm ups. His voice is legit. He’s a cool dude.”

“That’s so awesome. I wish I could meet him.” I nod and pocket that piece of information. Justin is a down to earth good person. I’m sure he’d spare a few minutes to talk with Luis if I ask.

“So how’s hospital life?”

Luis smirks. “Go ahead and just ask, man. I know you want to.”

“What?”

“Aren’t you going to ask about your favorite nurse?” Damn, this kid’s perceptive.

“No . . . what? Can’t I just call to talk to my fave cancer kid?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“But if you want to maybe tell me every detail about your hot nurse I wouldn’t object. I mean, only if you want to.”

“That’s what I thought.” Luis rolls his eyes and I grin.

“How is she?”

“She seems stressed.”

“She does?” This surprises me. Carly’s not usually one to share her emotions around patients. I haven’t talked or texted her since the night she left the going away party, and that’s been two weeks. She doesn’t want anything to do with me. She made that clear, but damn if I’m not having a difficult time respecting the boundaries she set. I haven’t stopped thinking about her since I left. And sure, I think about her lush lips and smoking body, but more often than not I find myself wondering how she feels, if her boys are happy, if she’s safe, and if she ever thinks of me.

Luis’ observation sparks a whole new level of curiosity. I hope she’s okay. I hope her stress has nothing do to with the incident with her car battery.

“Yeah, when she doesn’t think I’m looking she’s constantly checking her phone and she keeps biting her lip. You know, the face she makes when she’s concentrating.”

“Yeah, I do.” My brow furrows. “What else?”

“Well . . . I’m sure you’re not going to like it . . .”

“Just give it to me straight, kid.”

“I heard two of the day nurses talking . . .” His lips pull into a hard line and I brace myself for the worst. “And Carly’s been dating some surgeon.”

“Fuck!” I shout, and then cringe. “Sorry, kid.”

“Nah, man. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. She’s too good for me anyway. I’m just a musician. She deserves better than I can give.” I try to play it off for Luis.

“Still sucks.” He shrugs.

“Tell me about it. At least you still get to hang out with her.” I wink and then add, “Winning!” Luis laughs.

“Dude, you’re on tour with Justin Hill and he has the hottest dancers. You’re the one winning.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, they’re pretty hot.”

“I wish I could go on tour with you.” He gives a big yawn.

“Hey, keep practicing, maybe one day you will. You never know.” He nods at my words but doesn’t smile. The sounds of talking and laughter seep through the small walls of the tour bus and I check my watch. The band is probably heading inside to shower and change before venturing out for food, women, and party time.

“I should let you go. Keep fighting, kid. I’ll try and catch you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Derek, for calling me every night even though you’re on tour.”

“Of course. You’re like my favorite human. ’Night.”

“Good night.” Luis ends the call and I step outside the bathroom.

“What the fuck, man? Why do you keep sneaking away after every show?” Sean shouts from the kitchenette. He pulls out two beers and tosses one my way. I reach out and catch it before it hits the floor.

“He’s sneaking in here to beat one off in private.” Austin jokes.

“Nah, it’s gotta be some girl. Who’s got your balls, D?” Trent smiles wide.

“None of the above.” I pull my notepad and guitar case down from my bunk and sit on one of the couches. Beer in hand, I pull the metal tab back with a pop and take a long pull. “What would you say if I told you I’ve been sneaking back here to call a fourteen-year-old boy?”

“Dude, you’re a sick bastard.” Trent laughs.

“That ain’t right, D.” Sean shakes his head.

I laugh and ignore their banter, and the focus shifts to someone else now that I’m in my writing zone. It fucking pisses me off that Carly’s seeing someone else. If I were a betting man, I’d guess it’s that same doctor pretending he didn’t know how to make his own fucking coffee. Pretentious fucker. I’m sure he makes a shit ton of money and is stable and good looking in a clean-cut, take-him-home-to-meet-mama sort of way, but there’s something about him I don’t like.

Fuck.

Why do I even care?
Because you love her.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She’s not mine. She doesn’t want me.

“You coming, D?” Trent taps me on the shoulder and pulls me from my straying thoughts. I glance up to his expectant face. Austin and Sean are already stepping off the bus. “We’re getting food then meeting up with Justin and the rest of his band. You should come out.”

I consider it, but I’m too hyped up right now. The need to write is pulsing through my veins. I won’t be able to let loose or have fun until I get it out of my system. “Nah, man. I’m gonna chill back here and write.”

Trent nods and studies my gaze with his own. “Okay, cool man.” He gets it, understands my incessant need to write. I never have to explain myself to Trent; it’s probably why we get along so well. He steps back toward the door before adding, “If you need to talk, I’m here, man.”

I give him a head nod and offer a simple “Good night.” I’m sure I could talk to Trent, but I don’t think he’d understand. I’ve never seen him with the same woman more than a few nights.

Guitar in hand, I balance my note pad over my knee. My green eyed gypsy woman returns. Her curves and lush lips beckon despite no promise of release. She leaves me restless, unsatisfied, wanting, frustrated, enamored. I jot down the words that come, and soon afterward the melody begins to form.

I write until the band comes back, drunk and stumbling into their bunks. I write as the bus pulls out of the lot, onward to our next destination. I write until I can’t open my eyes all the way, until the skyline outside the window peaks with pink, a promise of a new day. A promise of hope. Song after song, my gypsy muse transforms into a beautiful brunette. A caring and thoughtful nurse. A mother of two growing boys. A woman I love.

Carly.

“REMEMBER TO USE YOUR MANNERS
, please and thank you, and ask permission before you take something or go outside to play. This isn’t our house and we want to be good guests.” I rattle off a few reminders to Eli and Ezra as we pull up in front of Drew and Melissa’s house.

They’re hosting Thanksgiving; I can’t get over how graciously all of Evie’s family not only welcomes but accepts us into the family. I pull in behind Jon’s truck and the boys race out of the car and up the drive before I’m even to the sidewalk. A chorus of hellos greets Eli and Ezra through the open door, and I let a smile fill my face. I’m thankful for these people, my extended family, people who aren’t joined by blood or marriage, not yet anyway.

My cell sends a shrill sound through the crisp November day and I pull it from my purse. My realtor’s name flashes across the screen.

“Don’t you ever take a day off?” I say to Mark through the line.

“You sound like my wife!” He laughs. “I have some news on the Robertson Way house.” I bite my lip and can’t help the nerves that rise up. I’ve been looking for weeks, but the moment I stepped inside this house, I just knew it was the one I wanted. We put a bid in right away.

“What’s the news, Mark?”

“They rejected our offer.” My nerves sink into disappointment. Moisture pools in my eyes but I blink it back. I will not to cry. It’s stupid, I know, just a house, but I’d already started to picture us there. I can’t help but feel let down. “Someone else came in with a cash bid. It was a no brainer for them. I’m really sorry, Carly. I know you loved that house. I just wanted to let you know right away.”

“No. I appreciate the call, Mark. Especially on a holiday.”

“Of course, and don’t worry. We’ll find the perfect house for you. I’ll send you over the latest listings. Tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, whenever you get to it. I won’t be able to look at it over the next few days with my schedule anyway. Take some time off with your family.”

“Thanks, Carly, Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving.” I pocket my cell.

“So who was that and who do I need to go beat up?” I lift my chin to find Tate studying me from the doorway. I roll my eyes.

“Just my realtor. I didn’t get the house.” I pout.

“Sorry, sis. But maybe it’s a good thing, with the holidays and all? Won’t it be kind of crazy trying to move and get ready for Christmas?” I narrow my gaze at his feeble attempt at reasoning.

“That doesn’t really make sense. I think you just want another Christmas morning with your nephews.”

“Guilty.” He laughs and leads me inside. The house is full and chaotic. Moving bodies fill the space, laughter and conversation flow freely, and the smell of food permeates throughout.

“Hello!” I smile and wave at everyone. Eli and Ezra lay across the living room floor and chat away to Jon and Kate. Jon seems to be setting up a makeshift battlefield, princess figurines vs stuffed animals. Kate has Melissa’s daughter Claire between her legs, a look of pure devotion on her normally calculating face. I can’t help but notice the way she rests one hand over her abdomen every few minutes. God, she’ll be such a good mama.

Evie, her mom, Linda, Melissa, and Drew scurry around the kitchen, coming in and out with dishes and food. Evie’s dad Carl sits in the recliner and watches the game.