You're Still the One (11 page)

That pushed them both over the edge.

Once one of them cracked, it all went downhill. Soon, the three were in hysterics, Abby and Arabella falling over their chairs with tears in their eyes, and Charlie laughing right along with them. It wasn’t even about the memory anymore. It was stress relief. Heaven knew they each had their own reasons to be tense, and laughter, much like music, was a way to combat the dark cloud. Hearing Abby’s giggle was good for Charlie’s soul. It meant she was coming back to him.

Arabella wiped her eyes, still chuckling, and picked up her phone. She nodded to herself as she read over her notes, then smiled up at him. “This is a great thing you’re doing. It’s going to touch a lot of lives.”

“I agree,” Abby said, releasing a deep breath. “Which is why I want Life & Lyrics to use my testimony and song for the launch of the campaign. Uncle Charlie wants to keep my story private.”

Her voice rang with conviction, and he scrubbed a hand over his face, hanging his head.

“That’s incredibly brave, Abby,” Arabella said, her tone soft. “I’m impressed by your strength. But the world can be a scary place, especially for those already in the spotlight, and I’m guessing your uncle just wants to protect you. The media can be harsh, even for family members of celebrities.”

Charlie raised his eyes in gratitude. Abby, on the other hand, blew a raspberry. “The media has nothing on some of the bullies I know, and really, I’m done worrying about what other people think. Staying silent about my depression does nothing. If I come forward, and even use some of Blue’s spotlight, maybe I can help make a difference. Let other teens know they aren’t alone, you know?”

The words humbled him. Made his knees weak and had him clutching the back of the chair. God, she
was
brave. More courageous than he was, that was for damn sure, made even stronger with that unique strand of Tucker family stubbornness. In the end, it was her decision. Hers and her parents, and he already knew how Grace would feel.

Tucker women were made of iron, the whole lot of them.

“Abby,” he said, pausing to clear his throat. “If you really want to use your story to help others, then I won’t stop you. I’ll always do everything I can to protect you, but you’re right. This is your story to tell, so it’s your call. I’ll stand beside you no matter what.”

The smile she gifted him with reminded him so much of when she was young, a little girl with blond ringlets, sitting on his knee, that his chest grew tight. She pushed to her feet, and he tugged her into a fierce hug.

Kissing the crown of her head he said, “I’m so damn proud of you.”

They stood like that, Abby’s arms wrapped around his waist, Charlie’s around her back, for long seconds. Like this, he could pretend that she was still that five-year-old little girl, brandishing ruby red lipstick, with no greater concern than the imaginary monsters in her closet. He’d tackled those then, and he’d tackle any that came her way now. Reporters, paparazzi. Anyone who thought they could get to him through her.

Arabella quietly rolled her chair back and stood, trying not to disturb them, but Charlie raised his head. She licked her lips, and he noticed her brown eyes were glassy. The woman’s soft heart was boundless.

“If you don’t mind,” she said, glancing back and forth between them, “I’d love to help with the foundation, too. I have some ideas and a phone filled with contacts, thanks to my last name and recent degree. I’d really love to get involved.”

For a split second, Charlie considered saying no. They already worked together at the studio and practically lived on top of each other. Him helping with her list, and now having seen her half naked, well, it was making it harder and harder to keep his distance. Plus, what if she found out about his deal with her dad? The truth would hurt her, he knew it would, and it felt wrong to accept her generosity under somewhat false pretenses.

But this wasn’t just about him. This was about Life & Lyrics, and about Abby and the other teens battling depression. This was even about Arabella, and her need to make a difference in the world. With her knowledge of the business, her intelligence, and her drive, she’d make an incredible partner.

Placing his arm around Abby’s shoulders, Charlie smiled at Arabella and said, “Welcome aboard. We can use all the help we can get.”

Chapter Ten

Songwriting wasn’t for the faint of heart. Shows like
Nashville
sometimes got it right, having characters struggle with lyrical phrasing and discovering what it was they wanted to say, who they were as artists. Other times, they showed those same characters magically pulling lyrics out of their asses. Charlie had been in the industry long enough to know magic like that rarely, if ever, happened.

True inspiration struck at crazy times. In the shower, out driving, while making love—times when it wasn’t exactly kosher to stop and jot things down. And it hardly ever came prepackaged as an entire song.

Most of Blue’s songs took days, even weeks, to write. Knitting together words and melodies, the collaboration of two very opinionated individuals. In the end, though, they always delivered. Without fail. Tyler did his part, creating the lyrics, and Charlie did his, adding the music. Deacon, Miles, and Nate joined the party after that, each adding their own unique take and style, and it came together as one cohesive piece in the studio. Their system was perfect.

So perfect, in fact, that they clearly shouldn’t mess with it.
Ever.

Charlie grunted as he scratched out yet another clichéd verse and ended up ripping a jagged hole in the page. Tyler’s job was for the birds.

“What are you working on?”

Arabella’s voice floated in from the kitchen where she was flitting around again, baking something that made his mouth water. He’d stopped asking ahead of time what it was that she made. It never mattered anyway. Everything was delicious.

“I’m trying to write a song,” he confessed, tossing his chewed-up pencil onto the open notebook and setting it aside. “
Trying
being the operative word in that sentence.”

“Oh? Inspired by what you laid down with Abby yesterday?”

He sighed as he stretched out his long legs. He
had
been inspired with his niece by his side. Abby was so full of energy that it was impossible not to get swept up in it. Another thing she was full of was ideas, and the journal he’d given her just a couple months ago was already crammed full of potential lyrics. From that, they’d recorded two songs during her visit, and after dropping her off at the airport, Charlie had come straight home, determined to give writing a go, too. After all, he lived and breathed this business every day. How hard could it be?

As it turned out, a hell of a lot harder than he’d thought.

Charlie was good with music. Damn good. He could take Tyler’s lyrics and create the perfect accompaniment, and he guided his niece as she transformed her stunning thoughts into a song. But coming up with the fancy word stuff on his own just wasn’t him…which generally worked, since he’d never wanted to be front and center. Charlie preferred losing himself on the sidelines, watching the insanity with a bass in his hands, letting the music pass through him.

Unfortunately, the only things Tyler wanted to write about lately were dancing in the rain and making babies, and they had a hit album full of
those
types of songs already.

“What the hell do I know about love?” he asked aloud, removing his hat only to shove his fingers through his unruly hair and replace it. “Hooking up and having fun, being an awesome uncle,
those
things I’ve got down pat. But swooning shit and romance?” He grunted. “Not my forte.”

Arabella glided into the room—she never walked anywhere, she glided—and handed him a crystal glass of cough syrup. She set down a plate of steaming scones and sat on the sofa, tucking a leg under her skirt so she could face him. “Have you ever been in love before?”

“Once,” he replied, staring at the glass in his hand like it was a fungus. “Or I guess I thought it was love.”

Confused as to what he was supposed to do with the cough syrup, or why she’d given it to him in the first place, he craned an eyebrow and looked from her, to the glass, to her again.

“It’s lavender lemonade,” she said with a smile. “Homemade and delicious.”

“It’s purple.”

“Yes, lavender
is
purple…”

“It’s weird.”

Arabella rolled her eyes. “No, it’s pretty, and it’s yummy. Stop being such a guy and try it.”

Reluctantly, Charlie took a tentative sip. Because she’d asked him to, and because he couldn’t seem to tell her no. She was just too darn cute.

Luckily, the purple stuff didn’t kill him with a gulp, and in fact, it tasted nothing like cough syrup. It actually tasted pretty good. No longer scared, he went in for more, and Arabella grinned in delight.

“What do you mean, you thought you were in love?” She stretched her arm across the back of the couch and leaned her head against it. “Did something happen between the two of you that changed your mind?”

Charlie sighed. He hadn’t meant for his past to slip out. That kind of thing had been happening more and more around her. It often started with her making some sort of joke, normally at her own expense, and sharing something personal. A story, a memory, a silly little anecdote. Then she’d smile at him with those big doe eyes, and his mouth would just sort of fall open.

Even more annoying than his loose lips was the fact that he didn’t mind. Sharing his thoughts and feelings with her was becoming easier and easier, and whenever he did it, he always felt better. Lighter.

It was annoying.

“We were young,” he told her, no longer surprised by the words tumbling out. “Shaylene and I went to high school together. You know, the stereotypical childhood romance that you fool yourself into thinking can last. We graduated and she took off for Tennessee State, and I started touring locally with Tyler and Nate, trying to drum up interest and make our dreams happen.” He frowned at the glass. “But we always planned to get married someday.”

Arabella shifted closer, her eyes soft with concern and only a hint of curiosity, probably already knowing where this story was headed. If he’d been smarter back then, instead of living with his head up his ass, he’d have figured it out, too.

“This was before your dad offered us the Belle Meade deal,” he said, his eyes narrowing in thought. “Actually, it all went down about a month before we came to your house for the first time.”

She smiled at that, probably remembering the same thing he was—them showing up at Casa Stone and catching a young Arabella off guard in an atrocious tie-dyed one-piece. Before she’d rushed up the stairs to change, she’d blushed to the roots of her hair gawking at him. Subtlety was not something she’d mastered at fourteen.

“What happened?” she asked, reaching out and taking his hand. “What did she do?”

He loved how she’d phrased that.
What did she do?
Most people, after hearing about a breakup involving a young kid playing music on the road, would assume Charlie had been the one to be unfaithful. Nine times out of ten, they’d probably be right, too. But not Arabella. She was loyal, almost to a fault. And this time, on the money.

“The standard cliché,” he said, taking another small sip of the purple stuff. “I came home early. A gig had been canceled out at one of the colleges, and I thought I’d surprise her.” His smile was thin as he shrugged. “She always did like flipping the script.”

A low growl came from her throat. “So she cheated on you?”

Charlie chuckled. Arabella’s eyes were wide, nostrils flared, and she looked ready to hunt Shaylene down and attack, even though the betrayal had happened eight years ago. He shook his head with a gentle smile and set the glass on a coaster.

“In a way, I get it,” he told her, leaning back against the sofa cushions. “Long-distance relationships are hard. Commitment takes work, time, and regular dates. You need to be there, in person, checking in and connecting. My parents made time for that, and it’s because of them that I know what a solid relationship needs. It’s why I won’t do it again. Not until I’m ready to give up the band or make some real changes.”

Charlie looked at Arabella as he spoke, needing her to understand. At fourteen, she’d worn her heart on her sleeve, and the woman who walked into the men’s room back in Nashville had been just as obvious.

This
Arabella, though, the one who lived next door, worked beside him and made him delicious scones…she was someone altogether different. Every day she grew more confident, bolder in her skin, and the two of them had genuinely become friends. For her sake, he hoped that was all it was, now that she’d gotten to know him. Rarely did he ever live up to his own hype.

Either way, he couldn’t risk leading her on. Even if she weren’t a Stone, the two of them still wouldn’t work. Blue demanded he be out on the road, and the experience with Abby had taught him that phone calls, video chats, and occasional visits simply weren’t enough. Arabella deserved more. She deserved better.

She nodded, and her eyes fell to her lap. “I can respect that.”

A weird silence descended, and Charlie gritted his teeth. Things hadn’t been awkward since that first day at the studio almost four weeks ago when Arabella’s cover was blown, and the weirdness now was all on him and his relentless need to remind them both why they had to keep their distance. Sometimes, he wanted to kick his own ass.

Arabella cleared her throat and shifted her weight on the couch, and Charlie stared a hole into the coffee table. This was why he didn’t do the sharing thing. It only led to strained silence, false sympathy, or worse, heartache.

Finally, she released a breath. “Well, I know squat about writing songs,” she said, grabbing two scones from the plate and tossing him one. Blueberry, his favorite. “I’m a pianist and only regurgitate the classics. But if you’d like some help while giving it a whirl, I’m here.”

Charlie smiled around the fluffy bite of heaven. That’s exactly what she was, too. There. For him, for his foundation, for his niece. Anything he needed, day or night, she was always ready and eager to help, unconditionally and without reservation. Arabella was there for him, plain and simple, and he appreciated it.

“Maybe later.” He kicked the notebook off the table, not wanting to see the pathetic phrases he’d strung together, and said, “What I really need to do is clear my mind.”

A decorative basket sat below the coffee table holding his game controllers. Another Arabella design choice. He never even saw her bring the things in half the time, they’d just appear, corralling his junk, adding comfort and life to his bachelor pad. He hadn’t felt this cared for since his mom, before he moved out on his own at nineteen.

Swiping two controllers on a whim, he asked, “Want to play Mario Kart?”

The excited gleam in her eyes should’ve been his first warning.

“Only if I’m Princess Peach.”

Charlie nodded and grabbed the television remote, switching over to the Wii. “As you wish, Princess.”

A change of pace. That was what tonight would be. In the week since Abby had left, Charlie and Arabella had fallen into a routine, working together during the day, then heading over to his side to eat, discuss Life & Lyrics, and play video games until they both passed out. Gaming, especially when she kicked his ass, served as an excellent distraction and deterrent from what Charlie
really
wanted to do—

Haul his sexy tenant back to his bedroom and explore that incredible little body of hers.

Unfortunately, that was off the table, a truth he’d had to remind himself of way too often, and after tonight’s escapades, he had a hunch the cock-blocking video games would no longer be enough. One thing that would help was Stone’s new habit of calling to
check in,
as if he didn’t trust Charlie to live up to his end of the deal or even Arabella to take care of herself. It was annoying how little he seemed to know his own daughter, and each call heaped new guilt.

He should tell Arabella about the deal with her dad; it was the right thing to do…but not tonight. No, tonight they had a list to conquer, Charlie owed her one, and an opportunity had all but fallen into his lap. The truth could wait a little longer.

“Knock, knock.”

Charlie let himself into the front door of Arabella’s half of the duplex, and a wave of lavender washed over him. The fresh scent would forever be linked with her. Sweet with a hint of floral. He closed his eyes briefly and drew the fragrance deep into his lungs.

“Christ, it smells amazing in here.”

Arabella smiled at him over her shoulder. “It’s my diffuser,” she said, pointing to a pod-like thing in the corner. “I’m kind of addicted to essential oils. I’d considered bringing one over to your place, but I figured you’d think it was too girly.”

“You’d think right.” He sniffed again and nodded. “But here it smells nice.”

It smells like you.

It was exactly that type of thinking that got him nowhere, other than tangled up in vivid dreams and cold showers. Especially considering the night he had planned. Shaking his head, Charlie snapped his hands together. “It’s time for our next adventure. Get your shoes.”

The look she gave him was skeptical, and she motioned to her pajamas. “Uh, no? Charlie, it’s almost midnight. On a Wednesday. Where in the heck are we gonna go? Cow tipping?”

As he laughed, envisioning her grunting and shoving a slumbering cow, a disembodied voice said, “Now
that
sounds like an adventure.”

Arabella shifted and Charlie saw the computer sitting on her coffee table. A gorgeous woman with jet black hair in a high ponytail and secrets in her eyes grinned. “Hey there, Sexy Charlie.”

He lifted two fingers in a wave. “You must be Lana.”

He had to admit, she looked exactly the way he’d pictured her. Arabella had told him all about her roommate, and based on personality alone, he’d deduced Lana was the type of woman he usually preferred: fun, confident, beautiful, and completely anti-relationship.

Funny. A month spent with Arabella and those attributes didn’t quite ring the same. Sure, he could admit her friend was attractive, but now he noticed
other
things, things that he hadn’t before. Things that left him cold.

Take Lana’s smirk, for example. It was calculated. With one glance, he knew her seduction technique would be blatant and bold, exactly how he used to like it. But Arabella was different. She was sweet and bubbly, sort of rambly and motor-mouthed, and she was good and almost innocent. She tempted him without even trying.