Crazy in Love (Blue Lake #3)(50)

He was born for this.

“Blue Lake!” Cole hollered into the microphone. “How you doing tonight?”

The crowd went haywire, standing, cheering, and waving their arms in the air. He gazed over their heads, out across the grounds, to where the vineyards grew behind the amphitheater area. Tiny lights had been set up along the edges of the rows as if to highlight the roses growing there.

Rachael had said roses were planted to detect disease.

He shook her out of his head and dug into the first notes of the first song. Ronnie fell into line, wailing on the drums behind him. As the first verse started up, Cole’s gaze landed on a blonde in the front row. She was wearing black, just as Rachael had been tonight, and her hair was straight, falling in front of her face. She could’ve been Rachael’s sister…a much plainer sister, but still.

He’d forgotten to ask whether or not Rachael had any siblings.

Cole’s lead guitarist bumped him in the shoulder.

“What’s up, Turner?” JP mouthed, the piercing in the corner of his mouth twitching as he spoke. “You good?”

Cole nodded.

Somehow he’d been so lost in thought he missed the first verse completely. Ronnie continued through the chorus, drumming hard and fast, and circled back to the beginning of the song. The crowd cheered louder. It was as if Cole had meant to skip the first verse. As if he’d meant to think about Rachael and forget what the hell he was doing.

He couldn’t let this happen again.

Another screw up like last night, and his career wouldn’t recover.

If he wanted to make something of his life, he had to push Rachael out of his thoughts. If he wanted to prove to his parents that he wasn’t worthless and futureless, someone they could easily discard when things got rough, he had to perform his ass off.

He strummed the chords and grabbed the mic, kick-starting the song the way it should’ve been the first go-round.



* * *



Rachael tightened the blanket around her shoulders as she strolled through the empty rooms in the inn addition. The guest rooms on the second floor were large enough for a bed and dresser. And maybe a chair in the corner near the window. Whoever sat in the chair would have a stunning view of Main Street: the cobblestone road and wood sidewalks, the flowers overflowing wine barrel planters and the homemade candy shoppe across the street. She moved through each room, envisioning how they would feel when they were full of travelers. It may’ve been cold now, but soon it’d be warm and homey. A place they’d long to revisit again and again.

As she made her way downstairs into the vacant living room, the door joining the addition to the main inn creaked open.

“Hello?” she asked. “Cole?”

A gust of wind swept through the room, chilling her to the bone. She huddled into the warmth of the blanket. And then, when she opened her mouth to call for Cole again, a tiny white butterfly flew around the corner. It fluttered its wings and rode the current toward the window leading to the backyard. Landing on the fogged glass, the butterfly rested its wings and stilled. Against the dark night, its wings looked iridescent. Ethereal.

“Rachael?”

She jumped, shaking her head when she realized Cole stood in the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Show’s over.”

“I thought you’d send your crew to pick up your things.”

“No crew.” He took a step closer, and then stopped. “It’s just me.”

For no particular reason, Rachael searched the glass for the butterfly. It was gone.