Page 10 of Falls From Grace
“I’m not pulling it off?”
“Nope.”
“Huh.”
He dug into his breakfast and they chewed in silence.
“So?” Brynn asked him.
“So, what?”
“How was it? Write a hit song yet?”
Noah took another bite, chewed for way too long and swallowed, then took a sip of his tea before responding.
“Well, Savannah did, for sure. Not sure I was much help.”
“What do you mean? I thought you were co-writing? She railroaded you?”
“Not exactly.” He sipped again, looking thoughtful. “We tried to write together. We were really starting to get somewhere with this one song… kind of a soulful thing about putting yourself out there again after heartbreak,” he explained. Brynn nodded. “We were just a bit stuck, you know? So she called a break, went for a walk, and when I came back, she had pretty much fully written this whole other song, entirely without me.”
“Oh, wow. Like, a different version?”
“No. Literally, an entirely different song. This blazing, angry, killer of a thing. It’s… honestly just an incredible song. Starts out quiet, then just sleepwalks you into this blaze of cold rage. She was just… shredding on that guitar… and oh my god, her voice,” he said reverently. “I was blown away.”
“Maybe she just needed to clear the cobwebs out,” Brynn reassured him, though she was thoroughly diverted by the idea of quiet blonde Savannah shredding. “I’m sure you’ll get back to writing your song together today.”
“I’m not even sure we should.” Noah put down his fork and looked at her almost glumly. “I can’t even describe this song she made, all on her own. I’m not sure she needs me.”
“If she didn’t need you, she would have already written that song and a whole bunch of others without having to invite you up here,” Brynn argued. “You clearly did something to help open the floodgates.”
Noah looked somewhat cheered.
“Yeah, I guess I did. But I already know this album is going to end up named after that damn song last night, I swear to god. Beware the Fury,” he mused, “Or The Patient Woman, what sounds better?”
Brynn stared at him, several belated realizations hitting her at once. She opened her mouth and then thought better of it.
“Beware the Fury,” she said instead. “Killer title.”
Wrapping her leather jacket closely around her, Brynn wondered if maybe she should be leaving a trail of breadcrumbs. A private forest couldn’t be all that big, could it? She’d stolen one of Noah’s woolen beanies and had a good pair of sneakers, but she definitely didn’t want to get lost out here. It was mid-morning though, with the sunlight dappling the path through the trees ahead and the house not too far behind her. She’d pay attention and all would be well.
It didn’t take long until her thoughts wandered. Noah had sounded uncharacteristically worried and she hoped that today would be his chance to shine. He was an incredible musician, and, she imagined, a great co-writer. He was patient and generous to a fault. He and Brynn goofed around and jammed sometimes, and even though she was a rank amateur he never made her feel like one. She hoped Savannah would cool her heels a tad and make good use of the ridiculous music brain he carried around inside his handsome head.
She would tell him, later on, once things had picked up song-wise, about the weird moment on the lakeshore with Savannah. She didn’t want to steal his thunder by intimating that it was her who had accidentally inspired something in the singer. It was a throwaway line of poetry that Brynn didn’t even really know she remembered having heard until she said it. Savannah’s eyes had gone big and dark, focussing on her in that intense way of hers that made the world disappear for a moment, like it was just the two of them under the darkening sky.
For a second Brynn thought Savannah was going to straight up kiss her on the mouth as she grabbed for her, clearly high on adrenaline, but she’d smacked a kiss on her forehead instead and ran away, leaving Brynn both amused and confused. She’d chalked it up to artistic eccentricity, but now she realized Savannah had broken through her writer’s block in that moment and was already blasting a new song in her mind.
A bird whizzed low past her head, drawing her attention back. She realized she’d walked a fair way from the house and, craning her head around, she wasn’t quite sure where it would be in relation to where she was. No problem, she’d just walk back the way she’d come. There was a rustling in the undergrowth somewhere off the path and she quickened her step. No bears, Savannah had said. But like… wolves? Mountain lions? Brynn was most definitely a city girl for a reason. Damnit, there was a fork in the path ahead and she wasn’t entirely sure which one she’d come down. Wait, Google maps! She pulled out her phone, only to find there was no reception. Of course not. Stupid woods.
She started off down the fork to the right, hoping to see something familiar, but it seemed to be looping further from the direction she thought she should be going. She heard a twig crack and froze. This was just creepy. Then, all of a sudden came a rumbling, shuffling sound. Was this how she died? The sound came closer and Brynn realized it was the footfalls of someone running. Some kind of backwoods psychopath? She backed up between the trees at the side of the path, looking for cover.
The runner was in line with her when Brynn recognised the blonde ponytail and realized help was at hand.
“Savannah!” she said with relief. The woman leapt out of her skin, stumbling and saving herself from falling only at the last second.
“What in the fu-!” Savannah caught herself neatly before the curse flew out. She was flush-faced and breathing hard, her lips parted and looking way too attractive in her running gear for Brynn’s liking. The singer put her hand on a tree trunk, pausing for breath. “What are doing lurking in the trees? You scared me half to death!”
“You scared me half to death!” refuted Brynn. “I didn’t know who was chasing me through this creepy forest!”
