Smiling, I folded up my lyrics and tucked them down the side of my chair. “Maybe. But I never sing new songs in front of people, except in the studio. I have this fear everyone will hate it.”

His brows furrowed. “Why do you care? You’re successful already. Your fans love you.”

“It’s not that simple,” I said, turning to him. “When I write my songs, it’s a part of me, a part of my soul. The thought of people hating them scares me. That’s why I never sing newly written songs at my concerts.”

“I can understand that, but I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” He kissed my cheek and got to his feet. “Wait here, I have something for you.”

I wondered what it could be. The answer came when he walked out the back door. Eyes wide, I stood and gaped at the beauty in his hands. “Oh my God, it’s amazing. Is it yours?”

He handed me the most beautiful guitar I’d ever seen in my life. It didn’t even look used.

“I’m not musically inclined. Give me a gun and I’m good to go. It’s actually my grandfather’s. He fiddled around with it, thinking he’d have time to learn, but it never happened. I figured you could have it.”

“Have it?” I gasped.

He shrugged. “Why not? I’m not going to use it. He’d be happy to know I gave it to someone who will.”

I ran my hands down the shiny wood. It was better than the one I had at home. “Thank you, Blake. This means a lot.”

Taking a seat in front of me, he nodded toward it. “Go ahead and try it out. I’d love to hear you play.”

I’d never played one on one with anyone other than my mother. She used to love listening to me play. Taking a deep breath, I sat down on the edge of my seat and strummed my fingers across the chords. I hadn’t realized how much I missed the sound. The entire time I played, Blake never took his eyes off of me. I wanted to sing for him, to let him hear his song, but I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t anywhere near ready yet.

“Do you think that’s a good beat?” I asked.

“Is that the one to your new song?”

I nodded. “I think so. It’s different from my other songs, but I think it’ll work.”

He leaned over and placed his hands on my thighs. “I don’t exactly listen to country music, but I think it kicks ass.”

“So you live out here, parading around in your cowboy getup, and you don’t listen to country music?”

He shrugged. “What can I say? It’s the look that gets the ladies, not the lame music.”

“You’re such an ass,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Hey,” he said, his gaze serious. “I didn’t say your stuff was lame. I like that you write your songs based on the people you care about. It’s real. Your music has emotion to it.”

“Thanks. I like to make people feel.”

A small smile splayed across his lips. “You want to help me feel?”

Giggling, I set the guitar down and kissed him. “I think I might enjoy that. Where do you suggest I start?”

“Oh, I don’t know . . . maybe in the shower?” His smile alone turned me on. He had those bedroom eyes that would be perfect for magazines.

Biting my lip, I grabbed his hands. “My shower or yours?”

He chuckled. “I don’t know, I think we should give them both a go.”

“Okay, but first I need to call Felicity. She expects me around noon, that way she knows to pick up the phone. Apparently, the media keeps harassing her for a story.”

Blake shook his head. “Do you deal with that shit every day?”

“Not like that. There aren’t too many people who have my phone number. It’s going to be interesting when I get back though. My mailbox is probably full.”

I wanted to talk to him about what we were going to do when I left, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment. Everything was all new and vulnerable. The odds of the relationship working was stacked against us, but I had to believe we could make it work. Blake wasn’t the type to balk at a challenge. Hopefully, he would see us as one and try to prove the world wrong.

When we got to his room, he disappeared into the bathroom and turned on the shower. I grabbed my phone and dialed Felicity’s number. It rang and rang, but then she finally picked up and all I could hear were a bunch of people in the background, talking and laughing.

“Felicity, you there? It sounds like you’re having a party. What’s going on?” I said.

“That’s because she is,” someone else answered.

Gasping, I threw a hand over my mouth and sat on the bed. “Nick? Is it really you?”

He chuckled, then hissed in pain. “Yeah, it’s me. Remind me not to laugh though. You’d think after two weeks of healing, I’d be up and moving around.”

Blake leaned against the door frame, his body tense. When I looked at him, he stared back at me, but then averted his gaze and left the room. I wanted to go after him, but I couldn’t.

“I miss you,” Nick murmured in my ear.

“I miss you too. I hate that I couldn’t be there for you. Everyone thought it best I left. As soon as they catch the guy, I’m coming home.”

“What have you been doing all this time?” he asked.

All I could think about was Blake, but it wasn’t the time to tell him about that. “Things you could never imagine me doing,” I said. “But, I have to admit, I love where I’m at. When everything goes back to normal, I need to see about buying some property out here. It’s been good for the creativity . . . and it’s helped keep everything that’s been going on off my mind.”

He sighed. “I heard about Scott. Everything about that night happened so fast; I can’t remember all of it. I’m sorry about what happened to him. He was a good guy.”

My chest tightened. “It’ll be strange going home and not having him there.”

“I know. You’ll still have me though.”

“And me,” someone yelled in the background.

Nick chuckled again and cursed. “Stop making me laugh, fuckheads,” he growled.

It was great hearing his voice. For the longest time, I thought I never would again. “Who are you talking to?”

“The guys are all here. Since the season’s over, some of them are going back home. They wanted to tell me goodbye, but I think Kip and Dawson would rather talk to you than me. Kip’s reaching for the phone, here he is.” In the background, I heard a couple of the guys say they wanted to talk to me as well. I really missed bantering back and forth with them.

“What’s up, sexy?” Kip quipped.

“Hey, Kip. How are you?”

“Good. But I should be asking how you are! The whole world thinks you’ve been locked away in a mental institution.” I heard a smack and then I had to hold the phone away from my ear when he yelled. “Dude, what the fuck?”

Tristan argued with him in the background. “She doesn’t need to know that shit. Give me the phone. You there, Hadley?”

“Yeah, I’m here. And it’s okay, I already know what people are saying about me. I don’t care. We all know I’m not suicidal.”

“I know, but it sucks ass having to deal with that shit.”

“I agree. So are you going back to Canada during off season? Nick said some of you were going home.”

“Yep, that’s why I’m here. It’s a shame we couldn’t have our annual throwdown.”

“There’s always next year,” I said.

“Got that right. Well, I guess I’ll hand you back to Nick. Be safe, wherever you’re at. Hopefully you can come home soon.”

“Thanks.” The phone shuffled between hands.

“When do you think you’ll be home?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know. They found a cigarette lighter at the back door of the house. They’re going to check it for prints. So far, I haven’t heard anything.”

“Keep us posted. Felicity left me her phone because she knew you would call. She went out to get me something to eat other than hospital food.”

“Tell her I called, would ya? I should probably go.” I could hear a heavy sigh, and then the line went silent. “Nick?”

“I’m here. I just don’t want to get off the phone. Felicity said you hated the guy you were staying with. I can’t help but worry about you.”