Page 4 of When You Stayed
Ford let one of the framed photos clink against another in the box. “She has to agree to live under his roof, have escorts from the club everywhere she goes. She won’t have any freedom from the club, she’ll be watched and guarded at all times, and she can’t date anyone from the club.”
Guilt pricked at my chest. “I can’t even process the idea of her dating someone else, much less a member.”
“Knowing you two, you’ll be back together before you leave for college, so you won’t have to worry about her falling for some Stone Rider.”
More guilt seemed to assault me as I watched my friend from across the room. He had no idea that I’d be gone tomorrow morning and where I was headed, he couldn’t follow.
“I don’t think there’s anything that’s going to happen after this for us. Just take the box to her for me. I need to close this chapter once and for all.”
Ford hesitated before clearing his throat, staring at the box. He seemed like he wanted to say something.
“You okay?”
He blinked, and whatever was there instantly left. “Consider it done.”
SIX YEARS LATER
ONE
ROYCE
PRESENT DAY
When I was a little kid,I had fostered a dream birthed in the basement of a simple house shrouded in ivy. Renovated as a coffee house, the top floor was used by avid book lovers in search of a hidden gem or discounted paperback. At the end of the wide hall to the back of the house, and through the purple door, was a set of stairs. Thousands of stickers lined the walls from over the years. State’s, sayings, Post-it notes, taped messages, and pictures littered the walls as you descended into the base of the home. There, in the bottom, you’d find magic…or in simple terms, a wooden stage, built up to be tall enough for the crowd to see who would walk across it, braving a moment under the bright lights to perform.
This was the Hollow.
A sacred space where artists came to sing, to perform and create art. A place where music liberated the soul and healed the heart. I had sat in the sound booth with my mother, as young as four, watching as artists took the stage, and while my sister would draw or watch movies, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the way their music made me feel.
That dream had tenderly tugged at the packaging of my heart andfound a way inside, prepared to remain until I was old enough to tend to it. I wanted to own and run the Hollow. I wanted to be the person to welcome the artists and give them a place to belong. At eighteen, my father tried to rip me out of Rose Ridge to keep me safe, but all it did was thrust me into realizing that wish.
It was in the way they gripped the microphone, and their eyes took in the audience. The way the house lights dimmed and burst to life around each new note they sang. The way the crowd swayed and moved to the pitch of their voice.
That twinkle in their eye when they finally found their stride, and they remembered exactly what had driven them to step onto that stage to begin with. Some people wanted to be under the lights, and I was the person obsessed with turning them on, providing a spotlight for those who deserved it.
I’d protect this place with a fierceness my mother had taught me, which would ultimately redirect my entire future. In retrospect…maybe I should have let it go and walked away, maybe then my heart might still be in one piece.
“She’s incredible,” I whispered.
The small booth was barely big enough for Nick, Rodney, and me to huddle around a sound board. Nick adjusted a few buttons while we all watched the stage, but it was our boss Rodney who let out a heavy sigh followed by, “She’s got potential.”
“She has more than that. Look at how she’s affecting them.” I gestured to the crowd, spellbound by each lyric. Rodney had already pulled out his phone to disconnect from the conversation. My fists curled against my sides as I watched him completely ignore me. He did this often, where he’d downplay talented artists, acting as though there was nothing spectacular about them. Then those artists would become memorable, and our little dot on themap, not so much.
“Well, thankfully it’s not our job to decide either way,” Rodney quipped. Nick gave me a sympathetic head shake but didn’t say anything. I understood what Rodney was saying about it not being our decision, and while that was true, it angered me that he didn’t seem to care about these artists. Whereas I probably cared too much.
I inspected him, watching as he checked out and scrolled on his phone. I hated his dark goatee that was in the shape of a triangle, plastered to his chin like a shape on a felt board. The rest of him was all limbs and torso, with no muscle or fat, just skin and bones, and that damn goatee.
The Hollow might only be a stage for performers, and our venue a space for a few high-profile producers to come and check them out, but it was also an essential part of boosting tourism in Rose Ridge. I had started as an intern, grabbing coffee and helping with whatever I could until Rodney felt guilty enough that he actually hired me. I was the person who found the talent, communicated with them, and ensured they had a memorable experience at the Hollow. I made barely above minimum wage, but I had a plan to fix that.
The song faded as the woman closed out her set. She was the last person to sing tonight, which meant Rodney would leave directly after. I’d been putting off this conversation for exactly five days, trying to give him ample time to approach me, but I’d finally reached my limit. I eyed him as he packed up his things and did the same, so we’d have a reason to walk out at the same time.
“Night, Nick.” I waved while pulling my leather bag up my shoulder and grabbing my helmet. Rodney had already made his way down the steep steps leading from the sound booth. He’d hauled his jacket on, along with a scarf, and after waving at the bartender, he veered off toward the exit.
I was hot on his tail even as a few people waved me down, trying to get my attention. I had to get to Rodney before he left.
Shoving the heavy door open, I jogged toward the parking lot, catching him at his car. My dad was going to be pissed that I hadn’t texted his guard dog that I was leaving. Ever since I was eighteen, he’d forced one of his members to tail me, but there wasn’t time.
“Did you ever get a chance to look at my proposal?” I asked Rodney slightly breathless.
