Page 33 of Falls From Grace
“No!” Brynn refuted. The idea was laughable. “Please. Have you seen her? She’s a fucking… megastar, right? And about three thousand miles out of my league.” Even as she said the words, she felt a pang in her chest. On the one hand: true. On the other hand, sometimes the way Savannah looked at her was… confusing.
“Ugh.” Noah clapped his hands on the top of his head, slightly disheveling his sleek man bun. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but for fuck’s sake, Brynn, have you seen yourself? I mean, I know you too well to ever think of you that way anymore,” he looked faintly horrified, “but the first time I met you, I nearly crapped my pants at how hot you are.”
Brynn snorted with an unexpected burst of laughter at the extremely weird expression on Noah’s face.
“I don’t know what’s happening here, Lyman,” she told him. “Are you telling me to go for it with Savannah, or are you hitting on me? Because if talking about crapping your pants is how you go about it, I’m finally starting to understand why you’re single.”
“Fuck you.” Noah shook his head, but she could see the laugh he was holding back. Then he frowned. “Also, I’m doing neither of those things. I don’t like hearing my best friend deluding herself that anyone is out of her league. But Brynn… me and Savannah? We’re on kind of thin ice.” He stared at her, willing her to get it. “This is the biggest of opportunities,” he reminded her, his tone pleading. “And on top of that, I just really want to do everything in my power to back her. She’s fucking brilliant, Brynn, but she seems to believe she really needs my help. I’m honestly not sure what I’m achieving other than being her emotional support guitarist, but she… trusts me. I don’t know what it would do to her - or to the whole process - if she found out I’d made up this dumb lie, but I don’t really want to find out.”
Brynn swallowed. When she weighed it that way - Noah’s big break, Savannah’s comeback, Savannah’s trust - her stupid crush didn’t even rate mentioning.
“It’s cool, Noah,” she told him. “I’m going to keep it together. It’s just a crush. I mean, it’s Savannah, and I have eyes, and a pulse…that’s all,” she berated herself. “But I care about you and… I care about her,” she reminded them both. She sat up straight. Crushes were just… crushes. There was no rule in the world that said you had to act on them. She’d hold it together and then Savannah would go on back to her rarified world and - with Noah’s support - fucking kill it, and Brynn would go back to her life. Whatever the fuck that looked like.
“It’s not, like… serious, or anything?” Noah looked worried. “I mean, I’m not going to stand in the way of-”
“No!” Brynn scoffed. “Jesus, no. Like I said, I’m not deluded. But speaking of delusional. What in the hell are you talking about, with this whole emotional support guitarist spiel?” She glared at him. “I don’t know where you get off pretending to be anything other than a goddamn rock star. You,” she pointed at his chest, “are integral to this whole thing and Savannah Grace knows it. So shut your damn mouth.” Brynn grabbed hold of a stray couch cushion warningly, and he rolled his eyes.
“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered. “How did we both turn into total wrecks out here?”
Chapter Twelve
Savannah took a couple of days to lick her wounds. Before, she had wondered endlessly. Was the way they almost flirted with each other innocent or intentional on Brynn’s end? What was going on with that gaze: did Savannah imagine her eyes on her ass or did Brynn just check out her body for real? But after the scene in the band room it was beyond clear to her. She’d writhed against her guitar and sung her sexy heart out and Brynn had… mildly approved?
If Brynn noticed the abashed, reined in Savannah that emerged after the band room, she didn’t really show it. Her smiles were still warm, her eye contact still prolonged, but Savannah had stopped reading meaning into it. Her new friend was a warm, intense person. And she couldn’t be mad about it. She was relieved even; maybe now she could put this crush aside the way she wanted to.
In the following days, Brynn reported for Tucker duty and Savannah had her coffee ready on arrival. They sipped it together and talked easily enough. It felt pleasant and domesticated and warm. Then she’d leave for the studio, to work on what she and Noah now referred to as the longing song, dumping all her angst and thwarted desire there.
The song still refused to take shape but she couldn’t let it go; some superstitious part of her believed that unless she could cast her feelings into the perfect net of a song, they might haunt her, unresolved, forever. Plus there was just something there, some glimpse into the depths of her soul where she wondered if this song might in fact be her greatest, the song that would be her legacy, if she could only make it manifest. It haunted her dreams, but neither she nor Noah could bring it to fruition no matter how hard they worked at it.
By Thursday, she was feeling antsy.
“I think I’m gonna take a walk,” she told Noah mid-afternoon. He looked at her dubiously; the weather had been solidly miserable all day.
“Do you want company?” he asked bravely.
“Oh, no, thank you. I just need to blow out the cobwebs on my own,” she said hastily, releasing him from the obligation.
She wrapped herself in her big, navy blue, down jacket and tucked her feet into her boots, before traipsing out toward the lake. Her face and hands took the brunt of the icy wind and she shoved her fingers deep into the pockets for protection and bent her head to stop her eyes from watering.
The lake was pale gray with little white peaks of waves. The trees were now fully denuded of their leaves, adding to the sparse cold of the breeze. To her surprise, she saw Brynn in the distance, coming down the path from the lake towards her. She pushed the stroller ahead of her with the rain cover down to protect Tucker from the elements, but Savannah’s jaw dropped when she realized Brynn was still only in her leather jacket.
“What are you doing?” she cried as soon as they were within earshot of each other. Brynn was pale and obviously shivering.
“He’s fine,” Brynn protested, drawing up closer. “He’s in about twelve layers and under the rain cover. If anything, I’m probably cooking him.”
“I meant you.” Savannah reached out and plucked at the inadequate leather jacket sleeve. “Why on earth don’t you have a proper jacket? You must be hypothermic!” She took the stroller from Brynn and hurried them back towards the house, ignoring Brynn’s steady complaints that she was fine.
“You’re not fine,” Savannah pointed out once they’d entered the house and she’d ordered Brynn towards the fire. Brynn was still shivering, but looked like she was slowly defrosting, the color coming back into her cheeks. “This is ridiculous; we’re going shopping.”
Brynn looked mutinous, but Savannah held up her hand.
“I can’t lose my governess to consumption,” she announced firmly and a small snort escaped the stubborn Californian. “Now, I’m buying you a damn coat and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
She let Noah know they were done for the day, then piled Tucker and Brynn into the town car - each as dramatic as the other about it - and directed Remy to take them into Burlington. Tucker was safely belted into his carseat and Brynn insisted on sitting in the back with him. Savannah sat in the front and listened to them interact, Tucker chatting excitedly and Brynn inventing little games to keep him entertained.
Savannah had never been especially great at making things fun. She tried hard and they giggled together a lot, but she was by nature serious, and had struggled with grief and solo parenting his whole life. She envied Brynn’s natural ability to be goofy with him and worried about how much Tucker would miss that when she was gone.
Her melancholy thoughts kept her company as she gazed out at the mostly bare trees passing by outside the window, but evaporated quickly once Remy dropped them off at Church Street Marketplace. The pretty brick street was open for pedestrians only, so they left the stroller in the car and let Tucker run along beside them. Savannah gripped his hand for safety, but he quickly insisted on holding Brynn’s too as they walked down the street. In no time at all, Brynn had him swinging between them, giggling wildly, and Savannah’s heart filled. These were the kinds of small pleasures her son had missed out on, with only his sad mama and his nannies to parent him. It warmed her right through to see him so happy.
