CHAPTER SIX
LONDON

Okay… This is fine. I’m fine. It’s all going to be fine. I’m screwed.

I’ve never played in front of a crowd, but no one will be watching me anyway. They’ll be focusing on Griffin Miller, who is currently guiding me through the backstage corridor. The cold metal of his rings contrast against the warmth of his touch. It’s a sensory overload, for sure. I need to get out of my head and focus on the task at hand.

“Are you sure you’re okay with doing this?” he asks me in a tone that makes him sound as unsure as I am. “You aren’t really saying much.”

I honestly don’t know if I can do this, but I swallow the lump in my throat and steel my nerves. “I’m pretty sure I might’ve already said way too much.” I hope he can’t see through my fake smile.

And he sees right through it. I know sympathy when I see it, and right now it’s pouring out in waves.

“Truthfully,” I let out a heavy sigh, “if I don’t start living, just a little, outside my comfort zone then I think I might wake up one day and wonder what I did with my life. I don’t want that.” Why am I telling him this?

He grips my hand just a little tighter. “I like that outlook.” There’s a rasp in his voice that I can’t get enough of. My heart is thumping against my rib cage. I’m positive he hears it. “Besides, what’s to be nervous about? Just a few thousand people that I’ve never met listening to me play a song I’ve never heard before.” I force out a chuckle that sounds more like a walrus barking than a laugh.

“Touché.” His eyebrows furrow as his lips curl into a partial frown. “You know…” I couldn’t tell earlier but being this close to him I can see flakes of brown and gold in his eyes. They turn dark as the wrinkles in his forehead deepen.

Does he think I’m going to let him and the band down? My heart sinks to the floor.

“I know this isn’t something you signed up for. You kind of got thrown into it, and I appreciate you being willing to do it.” He scoffs and lets out a deep sigh. There’s a heaviness in his gaze right now that I don’t like, and the little bits of gold aren’t visible anymore. “If you need to bail on this, I will totally understand. You don’t owe Nigel or anyone else an explanation. I can just play another rendition of House of the Rising Sun.”

“But your manager said you’d be risking your career if you do that.” I drop his hand and cross my arms over my chest as I plant my feet firmly in the middle of the backstage corridor. I’m seriously fighting the urge to tell him off right here. “You think I can’t do it.” 

“That’s not it at all.” The gold returns as his eyes flash with confusion and… Pain? 

I should have known. I refuse to let anyone ever treat me the way Nick did, hiding me away because they’re afraid I’ll drop the ball or just ashamed of me. I’m not sure which was the case with Nick, but I’m not willing to accept either anymore. My head drops and I focus on the tiny cracks in the concrete. 

“I just don’t want you being forced into something because of Nigel, The Machine…” He lifts a single finger to my chin and tilts my face up. “Or me.”

He thinks I’ve been forced into something because of him and his people? Ha. Ha. Ha. ”Actually,” I say, reaching out to take his hand. I can’t help but notice how the tension in his shoulders eases as our fingers intertwine. “Casey is the one who threw me to the wolves. I can’t even say that I’m mad at her for it.” I take in the enormous stage equipment. The speakers are taller than I am. “I’m a grown woman and I haven’t done anything exciting with my life… ever.”

“If you’re sure.” He glances up the steps to the dark stage and nods, waiting for me to go ahead of him.

I swallow hard, concentrating on making sure my knees don’t give out. “How many people do you think are out there?” I stop on the third step. My determination does have its limits.

“Oh…” He squints and purses his lips together as he considers his answer. “Half of them probably already left to get ahead of traffic, so you’re really only looking at the die-hard fans being left.”

“And that means?”

He clears his throat and mumbles something under his breath.

“Mister Miller, I realize you’re a rock star, but I am not above stomping off in my own diva fit right now if you don’t give me a straight answer.” I wag my finger at his chest, which happens to look very chiseled even from underneath that red button-down shirt. His sleeves are pushed up well beyond his elbow giving a peek at his large, very tattooed biceps. Focus, London. “My Momma raised me to be a nice southern lady, but us southern ladies don’t take crap from anyone; not even from Mister Griffin Miller, Rockstar Extraordinaire, himself.”

He laughs and runs his fingers through his jet-black hair. “Did you just say crap?”

“Maybe.”

He chuckles under his breath. “I don’t think I’ve heard anyone say crap since middle school.”

I give him a deadpan glare.

“Okay.” He clears his throat and squints through one eye. “About twenty-five hundred, give or take. Don’t kill me.”

Okay. “That’s a lot of people.” I can do this.

Griffin nudges past and takes me by the hand. “I’ll be here the whole time. Just focus on me,” he says with a glimmer in his eye. “Forget they’re even out there.”

“Yeah,” I snort. “That’s going to help a lot.”

“What do you mean?” He almost looks like I’ve hurt his feelings.

I feel the heat rising in my cheeks. “I don’t mean that in a bad way but focusing on you isn’t exactly going to calm my nerves.”

Now it’s his turn to blush. “Well,” he smiles. “I’ll take that as a compliment, but I can be your buffer.”

Somehow the idea that Griffin Miller is offering to be my protector is both endearing and terrifying. I nod because I can’t form a coherent sentence right now, but I manage to force my feet to follow him as he practically pulls me up the remaining steps and on to the stage.

The crowd cheers as soon as he rounds the corner. He waves with his free hand but doesn’t let go of mine in the other. I swallow hard refusing to look out into the audience. I hear Casey calling my name and cheering, but I can’t force myself to find where she’s at in the crowd. If I look, I’ll panic and screw up this incredible opportunity.

I decide to focus on Griffin, just like he suggested. It turns out to be a terrible idea, because when his eyes meet mine, he winks, and my legs turn into mush. Now that I’m a puddle of a hot mess, he lets go of my hand so I can take my spot at the electric piano. Perfect timing. I’ll just pull these mush-limbs back together… Easy enough, right?

It’s incredible.

The piano, not Griffin Miller.

Well, him too.

Never mind.

It’s the highest quality, top of the line, and way more than I’ve ever played on. My fingers are itching to get a hold of these keys. He motions for a gorgeous blonde to bring us the sheet music, and I cringe at how quickly the jealousy spreads through my veins as she smiles up at him. I shake my head and try to focus on the music, but I can’t. The crowd is growing louder. Travis is already counting us off behind his set.

Crap.

I focus on Griffin again. It’s the only way I’m going to get through this. He angles himself just slightly, so he can smile at me without losing his position in front of the mic. He’s a pro, for sure. Those brooding eyes are way too powerful. They make me want to run and scream. They also make me want to wrap my arms around him and sink into the warmth and comfort that he exudes from every pore.

I don’t like feeling vulnerable.

I am very vulnerable around Griffin Miller.

I don’t need a hero.

I’ve been doing just fine on my own and taking care of my son. We’ve never really been on our own though. My parents have always been there for us, so maybe it’s not so bad to feel like you have someone you can lean on—even a few someones. Griffin Miller could be one of those someones.

No. It’s just the stage getting to me.

The lights overhead flicker as they illuminate each member of the band one-by-one. Travis’s just came on over his bright orange drum set. He’s already pounding out the beat.

Can they just leave my light off?

Nope. There it is.

I tune into the music and begin to hear the melody as Nash and Adair kick in. There’s a lot of open space left. No wonder it wouldn’t translate well to just a single guitar. It needs the full spectrum to fill the void. I can’t focus on the sheet music. I need to play this my way.

My way is to close my eyes and feel the music, so that’s exactly what I do.

I focus on Griffin’s voice and find the key.

The smooth but raspy way he pushes out each note with such conviction just enforces the beauty in strength motto that he clearly embodies. The pain in his voice makes me forget this is just a song. It feels like life, like it’s all happening right now. This song is clearly special to him, but he’s holding his voice back.

There’s only one reason he would do that. He’s still trying to protect me because he doesn’t think I can keep up. I can’t let him hold himself back for me. My fingers dance across the keys as I let the music take over and challenge him through the chord progression.

He can hold himself back for my sake, or he can let his voice open up and completely own this moment, and the crowd, by pulling them in the same way he’s already pulled me in.

Judging from the look in his eye, and the chill bumps that sprouted all over my body after that last note, I know where this is going.