Facing the Music (Rosewood 1)

“There was nothing you could have done about it,” Blake admitted. “Once it was out there, denying it would only look like too much of a protest. Confirming it would make you look vindictive.”

Ivy flopped back against the brick wall of the post office. “I’ve built a career on vindictiveness without uttering a single name. But you want to know the worst part of it? I can’t forget about all the losers I had to date to write those songs. Present company excluded, of course.”

“Of course.”

“I mean”—she shook her head—“every time I get onstage to sing a song, I think about them. Every time I sing ‘The Sweetest High,’ I’ll think about the lead singer of Perfect Harmony! That scrawny little twerp of a boy could hardly even be called a man.”

“That really was a new low for you,” Blake said with a chuckle.

Ivy had to laugh about it, too. The whole thing was ridiculous. “I’ve sworn off boy bands.”

She looked up at Blake as he laughed, and for the first time, she saw the face of the man she’d once loved. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at her. He wasn’t about to explode from holding in his anger. He wasn’t mocking her or saying nasty things about her or her music. It was a real conversation. The first they’d had in six years.

Ivy wasn’t entirely sure what made her say it, but the words just fell from her lips in the moment. “Every time I sing ‘Size Matters,’ I think about you, too. The good times and the bad times. It’s good to see you smile again, Blake. Despite everything that happened, I have missed you.”

His eyes found hers, his expression serious. “I’ve missed you too, Ivy. And I’m sorry about that night at Auburn. I never wanted to be like my dad, you know? Always running around on my mom. I thought I was better than he was, but I guess not. I know you didn’t want to hear it back then, but I hope you’ll listen and know I mean it.”

He was right. At the time, nothing he could have said would change what happened. But time and distance had made her more receptive. It was time they both stopped carrying this grudge. “Thank you.”

Ivy took a step toward Blake and wrapped her arms around his waist. She turned her face and pressed her cheek into his chest, feeling relief wash over her when his arms wrapped around her and hugged her back.

When he’d grabbed her arm earlier, she’d felt this rush through her whole body. It had been six years, but she remembered Blake’s touch like it was yesterday. This hug was no exception. There was no heat in their embrace, but the warmth and comfort of the familiar touch was nearly overwhelming. She closed her eyes, fighting the urge to snuggle contentedly against him and sigh.

“What are you doing?” A sharp voice caught their attention.

Ivy and Blake leaped apart and turned to look at the far end of the alley, where they found Mr. Osbourne, the bank manager, standing. He was shouting at someone crouched down at the edge of the alley.

“Are you filming them?” he said, his voice elevating.

They dashed toward Mr. Osbourne and their Peeping Tom, but they were too late. All they could see was the back of a man with blond hair as he ran across the street and disappeared into the used car lot. But that was enough. She didn’t need a good look to know it was her best buddy, Nash.

“He was filming us?” Blake asked. His dark brow was drawn in confusion.

“Probably,” Ivy said. She was less upset about being filmed than she was about having her tranquil sanctuary destroyed. No more trips to the grocery store without makeup. From now on, she would have to be the Ivy Hudson again.

“One of my customers came in and told security that a man was huddling by the alley with a phone. I came out to investigate.” Mr. Osbourne seemed very agitated. The people of Rosewood were not used to the invasive lifestyle Ivy had become accustomed to.

“He was filming us, Mr. Osbourne, but don’t worry about it. Once word gets out that I’m here, there will be more and more of those types in town. I’m surprised he ran, frankly. They usually get right in my face snapping pictures and asking prying questions.”

She turned back to the nervous bank manager. “Thank you for intervening. We might never have noticed him there.”

“The nerve,” Mr. Osbourne muttered, more to himself than anyone. “Good to see you both,” he said, turning and heading back into the bank.

“You live with that all the time?” Blake asked.

Ivy just nodded. Every time she stepped out of her home, it seemed like there was at least one camera on her. “Certainly you remember what it was like during your football glory days.”

Blake shook his head. “It wasn’t like this. They kept their cameras to the locker rooms and the field. They left me alone on campus while I went to classes and lived my life outside the stadium. I never felt like I’d been invaded.”

“Not even when my song came out?”

Blake winced. “That was bad, but only for a few days. A couple of reporters came to Auburn asking me what I thought about it and trying to piece together a story, but my coach and my teammates protected me pretty well. I certainly haven’t had to deal with it every day for the last five years.”

When he put it that way, it felt like a lifetime. There was a reason celebrities liked to go on exotic vacations to Thailand. The press tended not to follow them that far. And when they hadn’t known she was in Rosewood, it had been almost as nice. “I was really enjoying the peace here at home. No one knew I was back yet, and it was so freeing. It was good while it lasted, I suppose.”

Blake turned back toward the used car lot, his eyes searching out the man they’d run off. “Do you want me to have my brother arrest him? I’m sure Simon would be happy to.”

Ivy shook her head. “As much as I would enjoy that, you can’t. They’ll cry freedom of the press and all that. As far as they’re concerned, public personalities have waived their rights to privacy.”