I’d just tucked into a fresh egg salad on homemade bread when I heard a door close. The air changed. My heart ramped up. And I swear to God, I felt an electric jolt all the way to my boot-clad feet. I didn’t need to look over to know it was Echo.
This was what it felt like to be connected to another person in such a way you didn’t have to look to know they were there.
I turned slightly and watched as she walked across the room. She was dressed the way I liked, a stripped-down version of herself in old jeans, a simple T-shirt, no makeup, and her hair all loose on top of her head. She didn’t look my way and tossed a notebook onto a table covered with books and music sheets.
Marta had sent out a basket of sandwiches, three apples, a couple of bags of salt-and-vinegar chips, along with a small container of cut-up cucumber and carrots. The container had a sticky note—eat your veggies—attached to the lid.
I had eaten my veggies first.
Echo peeked into the box and grabbed a bag of chips before ripping them open and finally glancing over.
“I’m here,” she said softly, munching on a large salted chip.
“I see that.”
“What are we doing?” It was a whisper, and I think she was surprised she’d said it out loud, because when I answered, her eyes widened.
“We’re going to make magic.”
She licked her bottom lip, and I set my sandwich aside. I was hungry, but it wasn’t food I craved. I got up and crossed the room, liking the way she trembled, the way she bit that bottom lip and stared up at me.
“Do you trust me?”
“I don’t know,” she answered haltingly. “I want to.”
It took everything in me not to reach down and claim that mouth. Not to slide my own across hers, to sink my hands into all that shiny soft hair, to pull her close until every inch of her was pressed against me. To claim Echo in the most basic way there was.
But I was strong. I had to be, dealing with her. I pulled back because I knew she was like one of the fillies out at my place in Tennessee. She needed time to absorb, time to get comfortable, time to surrender to this thing between us. This thing that had never gone away.
“Pick up a guitar,” I said, nodding to a group of them in the far corner. She chose one of her dad’s older acoustics and settled onto the chair across from me. I had my own across my lap and started to play one of the songs we’d written together at the cabin.
She watched for a few moments, her head nodding slightly, her body moving into the instrument as her fingers began to pull notes. We played a good ten minutes, finding our rhythm and gathering the joy. When we hit our stride, I began to sing, and Echo joined in. At first, she sang softly, but as her confidence grew, so did her voice. It was a thing of beauty. I couldn’t even compare her to anyone else because she was that original.
I can’t describe how it felt to sing with her. How it felt for our voices to melt together in a way that was familiar and right and so damn good, it rocked my world. We played all the tunes we’d worked on in the Catskills. We played them several times and nailed down vocal runs that would make the president of my damn label hard.
This was gold. This was a once-in-a-lifetime collaboration, and I needed to run tape. I needed to get this down, because if the shit hit at some point, and I knew there was a pretty good chance it would, I wanted something to remember. Some form of media I could listen to over and over and over again.
I have no idea how long we played, but when we finally stopped, both of us were out of breath. I was about to set down my guitar when a slow, methodic clapping drew my gaze from Echo to the door of the studio. Zach stood there, and if I had looked closer, I would have seen the odd expression on his face. But I didn’t give a crap about the guy, and here I thought the bastard had left.
I scowled as he walked toward us, but he didn’t stop to say anything. He headed to the control room and snapped on the lights once he was inside. I looked at Echo, but she was focused on him, slowly shaking her head, her face pale.
“What the hell, Gilbraid?” He walked toward us with microphones and boom stands. He ignored me at first, placing a couple near Echo and then headed my way. He was encroaching on my turf and the he-man inside me roared to life. “Seriously. What the fuck?”
“Relax, Appleton.” Zach’s face was a study in concentration as he angled the boom on the mic stand a bit and then slid one of the mics into the holder. “You’re going to thank me one day.”
“For what?”
He nailed me with a look I knew all too well. It was hunger and excitement. It was ecstasy on steroids. Who the hell needed the chemical version when you had this? When you had something so real and honest and so fucking sweet, you wanted to lose your mind?
Zach stood back and glanced over to Echo. “Seems like I might be sticking around after all.”
He headed into the control room once more. “Okay, let’s do a level check.”
Say what you will about Zach Gilbraid, and Christ knows I’ve said a lot, but the one truth no one can deny is that the guy is a genius in the studio. And this recording session had just ramped up big-time.
He got the levels he wanted and then joined us, sitting down with a slide guitar on his lap. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
First off, if someone had told me a month ago that I’d be in a studio with Zach, I would have told them they were crazy. If they had said Echo would be right there in the thick of it, I would have told them they were not only crazy but on crack.
Funny how life turns out sometimes.
Echo looked shell-shocked.
“It’s time, Echo. You can do this.” I spoke quietly and wasn’t sure she heard me.
I propped up my phone and hit Record as she started to play. And then I joined in. When Zach slipped the glass slide onto his finger and made his guitar sing, we became the perfect trifecta. And it was a trifecta that lasted until nearly midnight.
By then, we’d gone over four or five songs so many times, I lost count. We laid down vocal tracks, we thickened them up with harmony, with intricate guitar runs, and that extra something no one has a name for. I added bass, while Zach added percussion and some fiddle. I suppose magic is the closest you could come to describing what happened. We knew we had something special, and maybe we were scared to vocalize that.
No one said anything for a long time. We just sat there, absorbing what had just happened.
“Wow.” Zach laid down his guitar and shook his head. He looked like he was about to lose his mind. He turned to Echo. “I had no idea. I thought…Jesus, I thought you had to be good. I mean, Christ, your dad is Axel fucking Mansfield. But this is a whole level of extra I didn’t see coming.” His jerked his head my way. “We need to get this out. This right here is gold.”
“What?” Echo’s face was pale, and she jumped up from her stool. The old Gibson nearly fell to the ground, but she managed to keep hold of it. “Uh-uh. Nope. Not gonna happen.”
“What the fuck?” Zach exploded and got to his feet. “We just spent hours recording.”
“I didn’t tell you to record anything,” she snapped back.
“What did you think the mics were for?”
“I don’t…” She looked at me with something closing in on panic. “I can’t…”
“Come on, Echo. What the hell?” Zach’s voice rose, and with it, so did my anger.
“Back off, Gilbraid.”
“Are you kidding me? You of all people know what it is we just did. This is once-in-a-lifetime shit. I’m talking Grammy. I’m talking Billboard number one across all platforms.”
“Doesn’t mean you own it.” I got up. “Doesn’t mean you get a say.”
He swore and glared at me. Zach’s temper was legendary. And the thing was? So was mine. I felt the beast stirring. The one that’d wanted to smash his fist into Gilbraid’s face the moment he’d walked through the door the day before.
“I just spent twelve hours of my time with you two. I better have a freaking say.”
I took a step forward, hands fisted, but Echo stopped me in my tracks. “I’m not doing this with either one of you. Just stop.”
In my mind, my fist connected with his nose and smashed it flat, but in reality, I took a mental step back and exhaled. “Time for bed, Gilbraid. We’ll talk in the morning.”
The expression on his face was ugly, and I knew he wanted to go at least one round. On one hand, I thought it might be good to get things squared up between us. Once and for all. But not in the studio, and sure as hell not with Echo about to lose her mind.
After a few moments, he shook his head, kept his mouth shut, and left.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” I asked, afraid to get too close to her in case she bolted. Echo stared across the room at me, her expression unreadable. Her shoulders were hunched, and she kept running her hands down the front of her jeans.
“I just thought…” she began, before swearing and turning away from me. She slowly shook her head, and I barely heard her. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
I walked to her and stopped a few inches away. “What are you scared of, Echo?” Because one thing was clear. She was afraid of something.
“I’m not ready for anyone…I didn’t think that anyone would hear me. I thought we were just…” She whirled around. “I don’t know what I thought. I don’t know why I feel the way I do. I just…I’m scared. This is so…so…”
“Hey. I get it. Writing and recording your thoughts and words is about as personal as it gets. It’s like baring your soul to the world. It can be tough.” I waited a few seconds. “It can also be liberating. Think of it as free therapy.”
“Nothing is ever free, Boyd. There’s always a cost.”
I studied her for a few moments and then closed the distance between us. I slid my hands to either side of her face and forced her to look up at me. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, and I can’t help with whatever demons you’re grappling with. The only thing I can tell you is that you’ll have to figure out if the cost is worth it.”
“I’m scared,” she whispered. “And confused. And a whole bunch of things I don’t have names for.” She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, and it took everything in me not to kiss her. To open up hungrily and take all of her in. “It’s like for the past few months, I’ve been living in someone else’s skin. Like it doesn’t fit.” She looked up at me. “But I want it to fit. I want it to fit so badly. I just don’t know if I’m strong enough.”
Something broke open inside me. Something hot and feral, yet soft and protective. I bent lower, my intention to say some things, words strung together that were meant to comfort. Something in her eyes made the beast inside me growl, and the hot air that swirled around us didn’t help tame it.
I swept my lips across hers without asking. I didn’t think beyond the physical. I slid my tongue inside her mouth, and she tasted like heaven. She was hot and wet, and she opened beneath me so easily, it made me crazy.
I could have given in to my carnal thoughts. Could have taken advantage, and God knows I wanted to. I wanted her naked and open with me buried deep inside her. But the thing about growing a conscience, about growing the hell up in general, is that I couldn’t only think about myself anymore. Especially not with Echo. She mattered.
I broke contact and, breathing heavily, backed away. Her swollen mouth, her shiny eyes, and all that silky hair was nearly my undoing.
“Boyd?” she whispered.
The sound of her voice hit me in the gut with the force of a sledgehammer. I didn’t have to look down to know my cock was trying to salute through the confines of my jeans.
“I’m trying not to be a dick here. Trying not to take advantage.” Voice rough, I nodded toward the door. “When you figure your shit out. When you know what it is exactly that you want, you know where to find me.”
I turned and headed for the door. I didn’t look back because I wasn’t sure I’d be strong enough to resist her if she made a move. I headed into the crisp night air and realized I was either an idiot or the smartest man on the planet. I was hoping for smart, but considering my past with Echo was spotty at best, I knew it wasn’t a slam dunk. I had to hold on and hope things worked out.
I’d come to Live Oaks not really knowing what it was I wanted. But things had changed, and there was a hell of a lot at stake. And the surprising thing was, it had nothing to do with music.