Down to My Soul (Soul Series Book 2) (10 page)

I keep a straight face, even though several sets of eyes swing in my direction, watching for a response. Wondering if I’m still “his girl.” Wondering if he wrote this song for me. My expression remains impassive, but heat and pleasure combust in my chest, setting fire to every part of me waiting to hear my song.

Rhyson looks up from the piano, and a moment of déjà vu transports me back to the first time we met in Grady’s studio, when I saw only a sliver of him at the piano, just enough to fascinate me. Only this time he’s searching for me. I know it. He scans the crowd, looking methodically up and down rows until he finds me. Eyes locked with mine, he tugs his ear before launching into the first words.

I was lost before you found me, or maybe I found you

Maybe it was fate or kismet, or something much more true

It could have been an answered prayer, a sacred certainty

All I know is what we have now. I’ve got no plans to leave

Not an ocean, not forever

Nothing wide or deep

Will ever end this love between us

My soul is yours to keep

To have the full power of Rhyson’s gift fixed on me, his talent with words, the nimble fingers loving the keys, the force of his charisma turned on me, is overwhelming. I sit up straight, but inside I’m slumped over from the force of these intimate moments between him and me with a crowd looking on.

From there, things blur. Grady and Em tearfully pledge themselves to each other. By the end of their vows, my Kleenex is a limp, damp useless blob in my fist. I have vague impressions of food in my mouth. I’m sure it’s delicious, but I barely taste it. I don’t look at Rhyson, and I don’t think he looks at me much either. He’s giving Grady and the reception his full attention, and I love him for that.

Grady and Em make their rounds, greeting guests. When they come to our table, I almost lose it again because Emmy has always been beautiful, but today she’s something different—that blissed-out beauty that must be reserved for the special day when you marry your soul mate.

“I’m so glad you could make it, Kai.” Grady pulls me close, bending to whisper in my ear. “You-know-who made sure you’d be here.”

“He told me.” I pull back to look in his eyes, offering him a smile. “I’m so happy for you, Grady. You deserve this more than anyone I know.”

“Thank you.” He glances at Emmy, who’s chatting with San. “She’s something else.”

“So are you.” I lean up to kiss his cheek.

“Have you and Rhys worked things out? He’s driving me crazy. Our honeymoon is basically an excuse to get away from him.”

I smother a chuckle with my palm, shaking my head. I catch Rhyson’s eyes across the room, watching us. Watching me. The smile dies because as much as I want him, I have to protect him. I have to protect
us
from whoever wants to keep us apart.

“We still have some things to work out, but it’ll be okay, Grady.”

“He handled things badly,” Grady says, eyes sober. “Believe me. I made sure he knew how badly he messed up, but he loves you, Kai. You know that.”

“I know that, yes.”

“And you love him, too, right?”

I drop my eyes to the bright green grass under our feet.

“You know I do, Grady.”

“Then you’ll be fine. It might be hard, but if there’s two people who know how to get through hard things, it’s the two of you.”

I wag a finger up at him.

“Will you forget about us? Today is your day. We’ll figure it out.”

Even after he and Emmy have moved on to the next table, his words stay with me. I wish it was just hard. The tape is a complication I never saw coming. It’s a mess I made, a bad spill I’m determined to clean up before it reaches Rhyson.

The closer we get to the toasts, the slicker my palms become. The faster my heart races. The shorter my breath comes.

“Could I have your attention?” Rhyson finally clinks his champagne flute. “Me again. I promise it’s the last time.”

The crowd laughs, eating up all this face time with Rhyson, who they so rarely see in intimate settings like this. This isn’t him onstage or begrudgingly doing some interview, but it’s him with his family. With his friends, relaxed, joking, happy for Grady. It’s rare, and they love it. So do I.

“I have to go back to the beginning.” Rhyson looks at Grady with a small smile. “When I was really young, I used to get Grady confused with my father all the time because they’re twins.”

He finds Bristol in the crowd and points to her.

“There’s my twin, Bristol. Twins run pretty hard in our family.”

Bristol raises a glass, an enduring smile on her face until the attention shifts back to her brother.

“Anyway, I often ran to him when he was around, if I got hurt or needed something because he looked just like my dad.” Rhyson’s face sobers, and he drops his gaze to the champagne glass in his hand. “In a lot of ways, he’s been a second father to me. He taught me so many important things. Not tying my shoes or riding a bike. He taught me about being kind to people, though sometimes I’m still not very good at that.”

Rhyson gives half a chuckle before looking right at Grady.

“You taught me that I’m more than my music. More than talent, and that I could be loved for who I am, not for all the other stuff.”

Something so special and private passes between Grady and Rhys, I can barely watch. It’s the moment Rhyson should have had with his father, but maybe never will. I’m kind of glad his father isn’t here to see what he forfeited with such a special man. My eyes drift to Angela Gray just a few rows ahead of me. Her posture stiff, her lips tight in profile, her hands clenched in her lap. She
is
here witnessing that. I don’t know if it’s anger or hurt or some helix of the two, but emotion comes off her like an echo. I don’t hear it, but I feel it the way a clanging cymbal vibrates in your chest.

Emmy’s sister does her toast, and my eyes seek Rhyson out immediately, blood pounding at my wrists. He’s talking to Grip, who has wrangled his dreads into a long, winding trail down his back. Grip nods, and Rhyson catches me looking at them. He flicks his head toward the orchard before returning his eyes to his best friend, concentrating on what he’s saying.

There are so many people eating, dancing, talking, I’m confident I can slip off unnoticed, but of course one person does notice.

“You got protection?” San grins at me over his almost-empty champagne flute.

Exasperation rolls my eyes and twists my lips, but I just shake my head.

“I won’t need it.”

“Oh, that’s right, you get the shot.”

“Would you stop?” I hiss at him, glancing around to make sure no one nearby heard him publicly declaring my chosen method of birth control. “I really am gonna stop telling you girl stuff.”

“You been saying that since seventh grade.” His eyes comb the crowd like mine have done so many times since we arrived. “And be careful. We don’t know who’s watching.”

The reminder of today’s text message weighs me down for a second and makes me wonder if I should meet Rhyson after all, though I don’t have much choice. He really might make a scene if I don’t follow through on my promise. But like he has so many times before, San distracts me with his warped humor.

He takes a sip of his champagne and gives me a lazy grin. “And don’t stain that dress.”

“I . . . you . . . ugh.” I turn to walk away, tossing my last words over one shoulder. “I’ll be back.”

San’s laugh chases me all the way to the edge of the yard. Step by tiny, discreet step, I inch my way toward a small opening in the thicket. I pick through the orchard, which is so thick with apple and pear trees that sunlight barely peers through. At one point, the path forks, and I’m not sure which way to turn. I just stand in the cool orchard shade, looking from left to right.

A wall of muscle warm at my back steals my breath.

“Are you lost?” Rhyson whispers into my ear, linking our hands.

No. After two months, finally found.

I look up at him over my shoulder, and can’t help but think about the song we first bonded over. The lyrics of
Lost
, track number nine, mark his body and touch my heart. I guard my eyes, hoping he won’t see how good it feels to be this close to him again.

“Where’s the barn?” I look back over the path I followed to reach this point. “No one followed you?”

“We’re not secret agents, Kai.” Rhyson starts moving down the left path, pulling me along. “You’re the one who cares if people know about us. I certainly don’t.”

“There isn’t an ‘us’ again yet, Rhys.” My hand gripping his as we rush toward the light breaking through the thick overgrowth makes a lie of my words.

He looks at me, eyes narrowed and mouth compressed into a flat line.

“There’s always an ‘us,’ Kai. You know that.”

I drag my eyes away from his and look at the clearing we’ve reached. Just ahead stands a red barn that looks like it’s seen better days, but still holds a certain charm. The heavy door falls back when Rhyson pushes, and he pulls me in behind him, letting the door slam shut. He gestures ahead to a ladder leading up to a loft above.

“After you.”

I climb up ahead of him, but pause when his hands circle my waist from behind. His fingers splay over my stomach, and he presses his head to my back, drawing a deep breath.

“Keep going,” he says, voice heavy and husky.

The ladder only takes us a few feet above the ground, so I know it isn’t altitude making me lightheaded and breathless. It’s his touch. His breath ruffling the hair at my neck when we reach the top. His hands on my shoulders, squeezing. His thumb tracing sensuous circles over my collarbone. I’m struggling to hold on to my composure, to my resolve, when I take the last step up and onto the top floor.

A tablecloth, I presume from the caterer since it looks like the ones from the reception, covers a small patch of hay. A bucket filled with ice and a bottle of champagne grace the middle of the white cloth. Two huge chunks of wedding cake under glass sit beside it.

“This is nice.” I clear my throat. “How’d you pull it off when they haven’t even cut the cake yet?”

“I left it to Marlon and didn’t ask. He may have slept with the caterer to get this. It’s better if we don’t know.” Rhyson chuckles. “We don’t have much time before Grady and Em leave. I want to see them off, so let’s sit and eat.”

He traps my eyes with a determined look.

“And talk.”

I drop to the cloth, arranging the skirt over my knees. For a few minutes, we eat in silence, reacquainting ourselves with the solitude of each other. We never needed small talk. Never needed other people. Just each other. I think we’re poking around in this silence to make sure that hasn’t changed. I’m halfway through my mammoth piece of cake before I slow down and actually taste it.

“I love wedding cake,” I mumble, passing my fingers over my lips to rid them of crumbs.

“I see that,” he says with a straight face, even though his eyes tease me.

I give him my evil eye, but my lips twitch.

“You can afford it, though.” His eyes lose their humor as they run over me. “You’ve lost weight.”

“Dancing twelve hours a day for two months’ll do that.” I gather a dollop of icing from the plate and slide it into my mouth.

“And you look tired.”

“Gee, thanks, Rhys.” I grab a napkin to wipe the sweet icing residue from my fingers.

“I’m just saying.” He pushes his clear glass plate of cake away. “And you sound tired, too. Is Malcolm building vocal rest into your schedule?”

“Let’s not do this.” I push away what’s left of my cake, too. “Talking about my career certainly won’t get us far.”

“Just don’t come into the studio tomorrow sounding like that.”

“Tomorrow?” I frown, clueless about what he means. Luke and I are recording a song for his new album tomorrow, but I’m not sure what that has to do with Rhyson.

“Luke didn’t tell you?” Rhyson runs a hand over the back of his neck. “I wrote that duet you’re recording tomorrow with Luke.”

“Oh,” is all I manage before he follows up with even better news.

“And I’m producing it. He may be keeping my involvement low key because he knows Malcolm and I aren’t exactly best buds. Malcolm might try to interfere if he knew.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Rhyson takes a sip of the champagne. “I’m not easy in the studio.”

“You’re not easy out of it, either.”

Maybe his mother was right about him being difficult, because none of this feels easy. My first time in the studio recording professionally? Not a demo, but a real track that will be heard everywhere? And Rhyson’s producing? I knew we were recording at Wood, the studio Rhys co-owns, but Luke always records there, so I thought nothing of it. Why didn’t Luke at least tell
me
?

“I’m not going easy on you because you’re my girl.”

“You keep saying I’m your girl like we’re not apart.”

“Because we’re not.” Displeasure chisels his features. “Have you been out on tour acting like we’re apart?”

“What do you mean?”

Rhyson stands, walking over to the small window letting in light. Back to me, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders stiff, eyes trained on the landscape.

“How would you feel if I fucked someone else, Pep?”

I’d set that woman on fire.

I go completely still, my heart frantic as a hummingbird’s. Every fiber of my body violently rejects the thought of him inside another woman. Was it Petra? Was it on tour? Was it good?

“No answer?” Rhyson nods, still facing the sun. “Then I’ll go first. Even if you married someone else, I wouldn’t acknowledge it. Every night you slept with him I’d call you a liar and a cheat.”

The words slap me across the face like an open palm.

“Rhyson, I—”

“I don’t need a ceremony or a ring or a license.” He turns back around, eyes lit with emotion. “You know there’s already a vow between us that goes beyond all of that, and for you to be with anyone else would be adultery of the soul.”

The intensity of his words frightens me because I feel the same way. Despite every damn thing that would keep us apart, I feel the same way.