Page 27 of From the Embers
She shrugged. “Well, you are. You wrote a song for the Levee Williams. And Henry Alexander,” she said dreamily before quickly cutting herself off. “And this time next year, it will be your voice on the radio. They better start getting used to your name now. I don’t want to hear any of that Easton crap when you hit it big.”
All right, fine. I was touched. I didn’t exactly share her positivity about my career. Or her surprising fondness for Henry Alexander.
Was he her type?
Never mind.
Anyway, it was crazy sweet how she’d gone out of her way to make sure I was recognized and more than just in the fine print on the back of the album.
I planted my hands on my hips and gaped at her. I was unsure of what to say and even more unsure if I could say anything at all. So, after clearing my throat, I kept it light for both of our sakes.
“You know, it’s moments like these that make me feel really guilty for throwing up on your shoes all those years ago.”
Quietly laughing, she stood and strolled over to me. Bree wasn’t particularly tall, so I had her by a head and shoulders, but she craned her head back to peer up at me. “I know you were dreading tonight. You always think you can hide it with a clever smile or a joke, but not with me.”
Warmth flooded my chest, and I fought the urge to tuck a hair the night breeze had set free behind her ear. So damn much had changed. In all the years before the fire, I’d never really taken the chance to get to know Bree. Obviously, I’d noticed she was beautiful; with her thick, chestnut hair and piercing, green eyes, it was hard not to. But I was learning that beauty was only the tip of the iceberg with this woman.
“I don’t hide anything from you.”
“Good,” she said. “Let’s keep it that way.”
My throat got thick, and as hypocritical as it was, I hoped the sweat breaking across the back of my neck and the tempo of my racing heart were both hidden. Her proximity suddenly felt suffocating, which was almost as confusing as it was intoxicating.
Together, we stood there, surrounded by white lights and unspoken emotions. There were gratitude and respect, but most of all, there was love. Maybe not the conventional or romantic variety, but it was there all the same.
“I’m really proud of you,” she whispered.
It was silly. I’d heard those words before. Friends, family, Rob. Hell, she’d already told me five minutes ago. Bree seriously wanted me to hear it, and coming from her—easily one of my biggest critics in the past—it meant the world. Pride traveled all the way down to the marrow of my bones, reproducing and spreading throughout my entire being. There was no motivator in the world greater than having someone who truly believed in you.
Shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans before I had the chance to do something stupid—like drag her into a hug and possibly never let go—I rocked onto my toes. “This time next year, huh?”
Her smile grew. “Yep.”
“Okay. Challenge accepted. Twelve months from now and Easton Maxwell will be a household name.”
She barked a laugh. “You gotta nip that in the bud. Don’t put it past me to take gift baskets to every radio station in America just so they’ll pronounce it right.”
“I don’t give a shit if they call me Estonian Maxwrong as long as they play my music. Also, I’m really offended you didn’t save the Johnnie Walker for me.”
“Who says I didn’t? We’ll crack into it this weekend. Act surprised when you open your fridge, and also bring the basket over for breakfast. There was a blueberry scone I had my eye on.”
She’d spoiled her congratulatory gift, but I appreciated it all the same, so I gasped with mock horror. “Dear God. Sugar for breakfast? What are we? Animals?”
Shaking her head, she moved into my side, sliding her arm around my hips, and gave me a long squeeze.
Caught off guard, I froze, head to toe rock solid. Bree and I hugged sometimes. There were usually tears, emotional breakdowns, or panic attacks involved, but we were no strangers to physical touch.
This was different though.
I had no fucking idea why, but as I pulled my hands from my pockets and wrapped her up tight, our bodies sagging as if they’d finally come home, it was definitely different.
And I’d be lying if I didn’t say I loved every fucking second of it.
The song eventually ended.
So did our embrace.
Within an hour, we were both headed off to our respective beds.
But something changed between us that night. A shift in the atmosphere. A peek of the sun behind the clouds. The turning of the tide.
