Read Online Nashville 3 - What We Feel by Inglath Cooper - Free Book Online
Authors: Inglath Cooper
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been taken under by an unexpected current and it is up to him to save her.
And I wonder if he’s that sure of her, after all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CeCe
We spend the next five hours practicing song after song, perfecting some Thomas and I already know well and then working on several new ones Holden says he wrote over the past year.
The songs are really good, and I’m relieved to see that he has continued to write. Our upbeat songs outnumber the ballads six to one, and we all agree that as the opening act, we want to get the audience up and ready to have a good time.
At first, I’m so nervous that I forget lines to songs I know by heart. I actually feel every single time Holden glances at me, but I manage not to look back. I know it’s crazy. After all, how can I expect to get through an entire tour without looking at him? Whatever it is holding in place all of my determination to make this work feels about as fragile as baby grass under an April frost.
It’s almost ten when we call it a wrap. I’m as tired from the effort of smiling and trying to act normal as I am from the rehearsing.
Once we’ve packed up all our things, Beck says he’ll take me home.
“We’re headed back to the apartment, CeCe, if you want to ride with us,” Thomas offers.
I don’t want to but it would be a little silly for Beck to drive all the way into town just to drop me off. And since I’m too tired to do anything other than go to bed, going out isn’t an option. “Okay,” I say. “That will save you a trip, Beck.”
“I’m happy to take you.”
I hear the edge in his voice and know we will end up talking about things I don’t want to talk about right now. I take the coward’s way out. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me in the morning?”
“Sure.” He walks over to kiss me full on the mouth. He takes his time in a statement to Holden. I start to pull away, but force myself not to. Can I blame him for feeling insecure? Wouldn’t I, if the circumstances were reversed?
I wait for him to end the kiss and press my palm to his cheek. “Please tell your dad thank you for letting us rehearse here.”
“I will,” he says. “Goodnight.”
“’Night,” I say and follow Thomas and Holden from the room.
In the truck, I sit to the left of the middle so that my shoulder is touching Thomas’s, putting two inches of space between Holden and me.
“I thought it went great,” Thomas says as he pulls out of the long driveway onto the main road headed back to the city. “What did you two think?”
Neither of us answers for a few moments, both obviously waiting the other out. I give first.
“We’ve got some polishing to do, but I like where we’re going.”
“I agree,” Holden says, his gaze set outside the window.
“CeCe, I really like what you did with the bridge on that last song. That’s gonna get you a lot of fans, girl.”
“Thanks, Thomas,” I say, feeling a familiar tenderness toward him. If anyone in this world has my back now, it’s Thomas.
We talk about different issues we need to address with certain parts of the songs. It makes the drive go quickly and keeps me from focusing on how close I am to touching Holden.
At the apartment, I take Hank Junior for a walk and deliberately stay out long enough that I hope to avoid seeing Holden again tonight. Hank sniffs every tree we pass and protests my turning back toward home by locking his legs and giving me a visual declaration of his displeasure.
“Come on,” I say. “You’d stay out here all night if I let you.”
To make up for not letting him have his way, I give him a cookie when we get back inside. He wags his tail in forgiveness and licks my hand.
“I see he still knows how to work the system.”
I jump at the sound of Holden’s voice and turn to look at him with what I hope comes across as mild interest. “I try not to let him get too big a head.”
“Kind of a benevolent dictator, isn’t he?”
It pretty much nails Hank’s role
And I wonder if he’s that sure of her, after all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CeCe
We spend the next five hours practicing song after song, perfecting some Thomas and I already know well and then working on several new ones Holden says he wrote over the past year.
The songs are really good, and I’m relieved to see that he has continued to write. Our upbeat songs outnumber the ballads six to one, and we all agree that as the opening act, we want to get the audience up and ready to have a good time.
At first, I’m so nervous that I forget lines to songs I know by heart. I actually feel every single time Holden glances at me, but I manage not to look back. I know it’s crazy. After all, how can I expect to get through an entire tour without looking at him? Whatever it is holding in place all of my determination to make this work feels about as fragile as baby grass under an April frost.
It’s almost ten when we call it a wrap. I’m as tired from the effort of smiling and trying to act normal as I am from the rehearsing.
Once we’ve packed up all our things, Beck says he’ll take me home.
“We’re headed back to the apartment, CeCe, if you want to ride with us,” Thomas offers.
I don’t want to but it would be a little silly for Beck to drive all the way into town just to drop me off. And since I’m too tired to do anything other than go to bed, going out isn’t an option. “Okay,” I say. “That will save you a trip, Beck.”
“I’m happy to take you.”
I hear the edge in his voice and know we will end up talking about things I don’t want to talk about right now. I take the coward’s way out. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me in the morning?”
“Sure.” He walks over to kiss me full on the mouth. He takes his time in a statement to Holden. I start to pull away, but force myself not to. Can I blame him for feeling insecure? Wouldn’t I, if the circumstances were reversed?
I wait for him to end the kiss and press my palm to his cheek. “Please tell your dad thank you for letting us rehearse here.”
“I will,” he says. “Goodnight.”
“’Night,” I say and follow Thomas and Holden from the room.
In the truck, I sit to the left of the middle so that my shoulder is touching Thomas’s, putting two inches of space between Holden and me.
“I thought it went great,” Thomas says as he pulls out of the long driveway onto the main road headed back to the city. “What did you two think?”
Neither of us answers for a few moments, both obviously waiting the other out. I give first.
“We’ve got some polishing to do, but I like where we’re going.”
“I agree,” Holden says, his gaze set outside the window.
“CeCe, I really like what you did with the bridge on that last song. That’s gonna get you a lot of fans, girl.”
“Thanks, Thomas,” I say, feeling a familiar tenderness toward him. If anyone in this world has my back now, it’s Thomas.
We talk about different issues we need to address with certain parts of the songs. It makes the drive go quickly and keeps me from focusing on how close I am to touching Holden.
At the apartment, I take Hank Junior for a walk and deliberately stay out long enough that I hope to avoid seeing Holden again tonight. Hank sniffs every tree we pass and protests my turning back toward home by locking his legs and giving me a visual declaration of his displeasure.
“Come on,” I say. “You’d stay out here all night if I let you.”
To make up for not letting him have his way, I give him a cookie when we get back inside. He wags his tail in forgiveness and licks my hand.
“I see he still knows how to work the system.”
I jump at the sound of Holden’s voice and turn to look at him with what I hope comes across as mild interest. “I try not to let him get too big a head.”
“Kind of a benevolent dictator, isn’t he?”
It pretty much nails Hank’s role
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