The Pool Boy (Nashville Neighborhood 2)

“Yeah?” He was firm, but beneath it there was hope. He wanted to believe her. “Prove it. I want to try for a career in music, so you can start showing up and actually supporting me.”

He turned, his chest lifted with pride and his eyes absolute as he pointed a sharp finger at me. His words brimmed with determination.

“And I want this woman. You need to get on board with that.”

His defiant, sure claim on me made goosebumps burst down my legs as breath halted in my lungs.

Jenna was frozen awkwardly, becoming a statue whose only movement was the stunned blink of her eyes. After an eternity, her anger won out and her voice turned cold.

“No,” she announced. “Never.”

She slung down her ultimatum with defiance burning in her eyes. It’s her or me, she silently screamed at him.

It didn’t take Troy long to make his decision. He stacked one box on top of another and then picked them up.

“Fine. See you around,” he said, and made his way to the Jeep.

Holy shit. I’d thought I couldn’t possibly feel worse than I had when we’d arrived, but I’d been wrong. I’d not only destroyed my friendship, but his relationship with his mother. It was hard not to break inside, and to distract, I focused on grabbing whatever I could so we could flee.

I had a grip on the handle of his suitcase when she abruptly spoke. Her voice was hollow and meant only for me. “He’s making a huge mistake with you.”

It wounded me deeply, but I pretended her words didn’t reach me. “It’s his to make.”

TWENTY-TWO

Erika

It broke my heart when Troy asked if he could spend the night at my place, and then he broke it all over again when he was unsure which bedroom he’d be staying in. Like he was worried he was overstepping, and since we’d already had sex today, I’d need some distance.

It couldn’t be further from the truth.

I want this woman, he’d declared.

It was too soon for me to be having all these feelings, but they existed regardless, and I needed him to know the same was true for me.

After dinner, I got out my guitar and played the song I’d started composing after our desperate kiss against the mirror when he’d found out he’d won the spot. He not only picked up the new song quickly, he suggested some tweaks and helped me improve it.

We didn’t have sex that night when we went to bed together. Maybe it felt disrespectful to Jenna while she was still coming to grips with our relationship, but more than anything, I think we both wanted to connect in a new and different way. We kissed, and talked, and snuggled, and what had been a helluva day at least ended as a fantastic night.

Was this a glimpse of what could be? Because it didn’t feel like a mistake.

It felt right.

In the morning, I got ready for work and left him with a kiss and a spare key. I didn’t know how long it’d take Jenna to become reasonable again toward her son, but I was sure she would and hoped it wouldn’t be long. He said after his class today he’d make plans to start looking for his own place.

Which was important to him. Although I wanted to spend every spare moment together right now, I understood and supported the idea. The honeymoon phase for me was incredibly strong and deceptive.

My day at the office was challenging. A show promoter we’d contracted with wasn’t responding to emails or phone calls, and the drummer of one of the bands I repped had gotten arrested for a DUI last night.

At lunch, I’d unblocked Clark’s number and attempted to call him, but it rang once before going to voicemail, and I hung up, not knowing what kind of message I would leave. We needed to have a conversation. Obviously, he had something he wanted to say to me bad enough he’d decided to come by the house, and I wanted to give him a piece of my mind about that.

I thumbed out a message.

Me: We need to talk about yesterday.

As I was finishing up at the office, I checked my phone and he still hadn’t read my message. I tried calling him again and got the same result.

Oh, how the tables had turned, he must have thought. Now my ex was the one not taking any calls.

I’d just put my phone in my purse when it chirped with a text message.

Troy: Got a second to talk?

I punched his number, waved goodbye to Charlotte, and walked out the office door, my footsteps crunching on the leaves the wind had gathered on the front porch. “Hey. What’s up?”

“So,” he said, “I just got done putting my shit back.”

I missed a step coming down the porch onto the sidewalk and nearly fell. “What? You’re moving back in?”