My breath froze.
The eyes locked on mine through the TV were Nate’s.
My Nate.
Chapter Two ~ Nate
* Showtime *
The pre-performance interview was the most annoying part of this weird show. I was amped up, ready to perform, then this glittery simpering doll-lady asked me inane questions. It was tricky to keep my energy up when I felt so hollow. I’d survived this for several weeks, so one more show wouldn’t be so bad.
My manager Dave thought that this contest might be career suicide in the beginning, since there was a chance it would be seen as pop-based commercial music. Now he realized that it’s amazing publicity, and a lot of doors will be opened just from getting to the top four.
The timing was perfect. My old band, Violet Circles, had disintegrated last year. My new band just finished writing our first album and were preparing to start a few short tours in a few months. This push from the show would sell albums, pack venues, and kick start the band more than any paid advertising ever could.
That was the plan I had laid out for Dave. It was only half true. I needed to find her, and I was desperate.
Trisha wasn’t the sort of person to be on social media, but I’d searched anyway. Her name was common enough that I didn’t have a chance unless I knew what city she was in.
Her crazy strict father had monitored her phone and email at all times, taking both away from her completely when she moved away. I finally had a lead through one of her friends, then they suddenly moved again.
Then I went away to college. My messages to her old addresses bounced. She was gone.
Seven years later, her face was still the first thing I pictured every morning after shutting off the alarm. After years of brainstorming on how to find her, this was my final idea.
On the first episode of this show, I’d begged her to contact me through my manager. Keeping it light, I said I just wanted to know how my first sweetheart was doing.
Then, like a cheesy bastard, I had to flash a wink to the girls in the front row to drive them crazy. It didn’t even affect me anymore. Women loved me. It was completely bizarre. I smiled politely, feeling like a cold-hearted jackass.
On the fourth show, I’d asked if anyone knew her. “#TellTrisha” was actually trending for a while, as the fans got on board and encouraged every woman with that name to tune in, just in case.
Even with the crazy popularity of the program, I’d heard nothing. Poor Dave fielded emails from all manner of whack jobs, some of them sending impossibly racy photos. He thought I was nuts. Then he realized that searching for a lost love was super romantic, and was likely going to help me win. His tune changed instantly.
I could see Dave in the wings now, giving me a grinning nod as I tried to focus on Holly’s questions. Finally, she got out of my space and I was able to take a deep breath.
This was the final show. My last shot. If I didn’t reach Trisha this time, I’d have to move on. I didn’t want to, but it was the only healthy option.
Time to play the role. Pretending that I could see through the heart shaped spotlights that were dancing all over the stage in seizure inducing patterns, I waved to the crowd.
I needed to focus. Channel my energy. Get this perfect.
It would help my new band. It would kick my career into high gear. And I had to admit, I did have a competitive streak. I really did want to win just for the sake of winning. I knew my band had been placing bets.
With a huge grin, I tried to look as excited as possible. “So, folks, I guess this might be the last song you hear from me for a while.” Thank goodness for the in-ear monitors that turned down the higher frequencies. The screaming was ridiculous. “I hope you’ll all look me up even if I don’t win, because I have a ton of great songs coming up for you.”
Then I grew serious. Staring directly into the camera in front of me, I poured my soul into my gaze hoping that somehow, some way, my girl could see it. If I could just see Trisha one more time. If I could find a way to see if she’s alright. I needed her in my arms, in my life. But at the very least, I needed to know that she was happy and healthy somewhere.
Chapter Three ~ Trisha
* Playing My Song *
I couldn’t believe it. My hand lifted and hovered toward the screen, needing to ruffle his hair. He’d always rubbed his head into my palm like a puppy.
Nate had always been a pretty boy, but now he was almost painfully gorgeous. He’d also filled out, his body thicker with what seemed to be solid muscle. Those unusual gray eyes locked onto the camera, and it felt like he was in my living room.
“This song, like every song, is for Trisha. I don’t want to invade her privacy, but her last name starts with an R, and she’s twenty-five now. Dark hair, hazel eyes. Trisha, please find me. I just want to tell you how much I miss you. But for now, here’s a song.”
His fingertips touched his necklaces for a split second, then he began to play. The song began with faint guitar, and his deep, soulful voice.