Finding the Dream (For the Love of Music #1.5) (15 page)

At this point, one of us needs to take a giant leap. That’s all. Big jump. Once we pass this hurdle of tiny kisses, we’ll fall into place. (I also need to jump into sending these outlines to that literary agent, but one thing at a time… I’m not sure I could handle a rejection at this point).

- Sierra

As long as I can move in small steps, I know I won’t panic over playing at Solomon’s. I won’t stress about the possibility of it maybe being my last big venue…or one of many. I won’t panic over Clark or Hanson and how they might feel about me with Sierra. Small steps…

- Donovan

Eighteen

Sierra let herself slump lower in the seat of Van’s VW. The old camper van shook a bit as they cruised up the freeway, but there was no way she was going to say no to a camping trip after his Portland gig.

Donovan reached his hand across the car, and butterflies skittered through Sierra’s stomach as she took his hand.

“Lindsey said something to me that stuck,” Donovan said.

“What’s that?” The roughness of his thumb traced over the back of her hand again and again.

“She said that all you wanted was time.”

Sierra could think of a lot more things she wanted than time, but really that was always at the heart of it.

“Oh, yeah.” The memory hit Sierra. “I remember saying that. I think after my second of two boyfriends disappeared.”

Van stiffened and she was about to open her mouth to make him feel okay about it when he continued.

“And I’ve been afraid to trust that you know?”

“Hmm.”

“And I’ve always figured that since none of my relationships have lasted that long, I’ve been doing something wrong, which with someone else would be okay. But not with you.”

She squeezed his hand. “Time is the basis of it. If you want to spend time with someone, it means you care about them. And from that comes all of the little things that build some kind of relationship. Every kind of relationship.”
What she really wanted to say was—
it helps if you just leap in and figure it out together
.

“We’re friends,” he said.

She felt her heart stutter. “Yes…” she said slowly.

“And now…moving toward something bigger.”

Microscopically slow

“And I’m guessing that because I’m all uncomfortable and have spent way too much time talking and thinking about my feelings that we’re on a good path.”

Sierra grinned and shifted lower in the seat. “I think so.”

The music playing in the background didn’t cover the road noise of his car, but she didn’t care. They were together. She still felt a thrill from their fingers being laced and her heart wanted to do fantastic leaps at the reality of him.

“You know I’m actually really nervous to play tonight.” He readjusted his hand on the steering wheel. “It’s been a while since I played a crowd this large.”

“Just relax and do your thing.” She squeezed his hand. “That’s what everyone loves about you.”

“And…” He gave her a crooked smile and a sideways glance. “How about you?”

“What I love about you?”

His lips pressed together and he shook his head as if he’d just gotten too personal, or was embarrassed or something. “Never mind.”

She was definitely going to take the opportunity to share this with him.
Big leaps Sierra. You can do this.
“The way you’re thoughtful and think about things and care about things. The way you want to do the right thing, even when you don’t totally do the right thing. The way you make wrongs right. The way you’ve always watched out for me, just because. You have this loyalty that runs deeper than I think I really understand. Or maybe it’s more that you feel like you have a debt to pay when you really don’t.”

Donovan’s jaw tightened and he pulled her hand to his face, planting a kiss on the back of her hand.

He slowly relaxed his arm and their fingers remained enter-twined, but the car fell into the kind of silence that happens between people who are feeling so much they don’t need words. Just each other. At least that’s what Sierra hoped.

Donovan’s fingers shook as he stood backstage. Sierra was next to him and gave his arm one last squeeze before he ambled onto the stage, guitar in hand.

He glanced back at her and his chest nearly exploded with how she watched him. He was falling fast. He needed to fall slow. Do everything right after completely screwing up by sleeping with her.

Donovan paused in front of the mic, his guitar still slung over his shoulder, and scanned the large crowd. The large bar wasn’t stadium sized, but a big venue just the same. So many people. He hadn’t practiced enough. Prepared enough.

His eyes shifted toward Sierra again who was still grinning. She had so much faith in him. Maybe too much.

“So,” he started. “My mother always said the best way to win someone over was to compliment them.”

A few light chuckles spread over the crowd.

“Before I get started tonight, I would just like to say that I’m standing up here in front of an audience of maybe the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen.” He chuckled and the audience laughed with him.

Relief gave him the energy to strengthen his hands. Move forward. This didn’t feel like a small step, though. Being in front of a group this big felt like a giant step. How had he attracted so many people without playing much lately? Solomon’s was always pretty busy, but on a Thursday? Had Sierra’s crazy internet skills had anything to do with it? Was it all him? His eyes scanned the crowd. It didn’t matter. They were there for music, and he was there to play.

“I wrote this first song back when I thought I knew what love was but had no fucking clue. Which means this one is really about sex.”

The crowd chuckled again, and Donovan swung his guitar around in front of him, suddenly feeling like he’d never left the stage. This was why he loved music. This was why he’d played his way through college. The energy from the crowd fueling him and pushing him forward.

Strumming through the opening, he relaxed even further, the feeling of being on stage making him feel like he was exactly where he should be.

How had he let this dream go?

Five songs into his set, and Donovan was killing it. Perfect. Sierra had always felt like this was what he was born to do. The crowd laughed when he wanted, and swooned when he slowed down.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him look so alive.

How could he have ever agreed to open that stupid store with her often-absent brother? Her hands clasped in her lap in a table near the back corner, in a small alcove, where the manager had
finally
agreed to let her sit. And only because Donovan had known him for so long.

A woman with dark, curly hair sat next to Sierra making her jump. Crap. Had she not been careful enough? Was she going to get into trouble for being there?

“Do you know Donovan?” the woman asked.

Sierra nodded with a wide smile, her cheeks reddening.

“What’s
that
reaction?” the woman teased leaning a little closer.

Sierra shrugged, her eyes finding Donovan’s form on stage—his simple t-shirt, favorite jeans... “Known him since we were kids. He’s almost like an older brother to me.”

The woman glanced between the two of them with an odd smile. “I’m Corinne.”

“Sierra.”

The women shook hands.

“Nice to meet you. So…” Corinne glanced over her shoulder toward the other part of the small alcove they sat in. “I write music with Christian Meyer, and—”

Sierra leaned across the table toward Corinne. “
The
Christian Meyer? From Kincaid?”

Corinne’s lips pressed together in an odd smile. “That’s the one.”

“What… Why are you here?” Sierra sputtered.

“Chris and I are here—”

“Christian is here
?” Sierra glanced around the room frantically. She was in the room with Christian Meyer
.
Mr. Lickable abs himself.

Corinne jerked her head back. “Behind me.”

Sierra stared at him. His recognizable blond hair, blond stubble, and crooked smile.
Holy. Shit.
Corinne bumped her arm to gain her attention again.

“Holy shit,” popped out of her mouth.

“Do you think that you can keep it quiet we’re here and maybe meet up with us after?” Corinne asked.

Christian Meyer wanted to meet with Donovan? That had to be huge.
Had
to be. Sierra’s hands began to tremble under the table.

“Of course. Yeah. Of course. I can give you my number. Yeah.” Sierra typed in a text to the woman next to her.

Donovan began one of her favorite songs, but she only have heard the words as she said over and over in head,
Christian Meyer is here. He’s here. He wants to talk to Donovan. What does this mean? What’s going to happen?

She couldn’t focus through the rest of his set. Maybe it was all happening. Maybe Donovan would finally get a chance to live the life she knew he deserved.

The second Donovan reached his last song, Sierra walked toward their table. She was walking toward Christian Meyer’s table. Just…holy crap.

“If you want to not be seen, you can follow me back now?” she said in a shaky voice.

Christian Meyer gave her a nod and a quick smile, clasping his hand with Corinne’s.

Sierra walked the same path she’d taken to leave backstage, and the security guy smiled too wide at her again as he let them through. She guided them though a very short hallway where they leaned against the worn, brick wall.

“I can’t believe I’m standing here with Christian Meyer.” Sierra let out a nervous laugh and Christian reached out and shook her hand.

“It’s Chris.”

“Sierra.”

I’m shaking Christian Meyer’s hand. Holy. Holy. Holy crap.

Donovan was wiping the sweat off his forehead as he stepped into the small hallway, smiling as soon as he saw Sierra. She felt her cheeks begin to ache again because of all the smiling at whatever was about to happen. He deserved this.
All
of it.

Donovan stepped backstage, buzzing with energy from the crowd. He’d felt every beat of every note and couldn’t remember any reason why he thought giving up music could possibly be a good idea. Sierra stood against one wall with two people he didn’t know and couldn’t see well in the dim light of backstage.

“Donovan Hall Holmes?” a guy asked.

“That’s me.” And then Donovan stopped for a moment. His eyes floated to Sierra who had that too-excited face he’d seen many times, and then to the two people with her. The guy looked like… Looked like…

“I’m Christian Meyer, and I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Holy…” Donovan rubbed his face. Christian Meyer. Christian Meyer had just heard him play. Holy… “I’m just… Let me get my guitar put away.” He pointed the way they’d just come. “The green-room here sucks, but we can at least lock the door.” His knees trembled and he re-grasped his guitar. Again. And then again.

“Sounds great,” Christian said.

How the hell did Christian Meyer end up at his little show? What kind of world tilting had happened during his hour and a half onstage?

Donovan jogged ahead and pushed open a scratched metal door.

Christian gave him a nod as Donovan held open the door and the dingy backstage stench made Donovan flinch. Too bad nearly every venue, even the good ones, had shithole greenrooms.

They sat on destroyed, black leather couches, and the four of them just…sat.

Donovan opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

The dark-haired woman slipped her hand through Christian’s arm and gave him a squeeze. Donovan stared at her for a moment longer, trying to place her.

Christian leaned toward her until his forehead touched the woman’s, whispering something Donovan couldn’t hear. Sierra sat next to him, her heels jigging, her knees together and her hands clasped so tightly he could see the whites of her knuckles.

The woman’s eyes found Donovan’s and she scooted slightly away from Christian.

“So…” Donovan clapped his hands together. “This is insane, and it’s fantastic to meet you and whatever you want, the answer is almost definitely a yes.”

“That’s great to hear,” Christian said. “Because it’s very last minute. And it’s very big.”

Sierra squealed, Donovan grinned, and the woman glanced back toward Christian.

“You may have heard that I’m about to tour with Lita James?” Christian asked.

What was he supposed to call Christian Meyer? Mr. Meyer felt too formal, Christian probably wasn’t what his friends called him and putting the two names together was just…weird. He’d just have to avoid using his name.

“Yeah,” Donovan answered. “And Lita’s song with…Griffin? Is that right?”

Christian Meyer nodded. “Yeah. He’s coming too. He’s doing a few songs with Lita and a few on his own. I get the distinct impression he’d rather have my manager’s job than a job onstage, but Lita’s hard to say no to.”

The woman chuckled with Christian.

“I’m Corinne,” she said finally. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” Donovan waved his hand between them. “No, it’s fine. Totally fine.” Even her name didn’t help him figure out who she was, but maybe she just had one of those recognizable faces.

He glanced at Christian Mayer. “And what… What do I call you?”