Stone Cold Notes: A Rock Star Romance (The Seasons Change)

WHEN I SAT DOWN AT MY DESK TUESDAY MORNING, my baby succulent had disappeared and been replaced by one twice its size. Its pot was glazed ceramic and very pretty, a pale shade of blue. I would have liked it if I wasn’t stumped by its very existence.

Natalie’s heels clacked as she approached from behind me. “Good morning,” she singsonged.

“Good morning.” I bent down and shoved my purse and coat in the compartment under my desk. When I straightened, Natalie had picked up my new plant, rotating it in her hands to inspect it.

“Do you not remember me telling you not to junk up your desk? Did you interpret that as ‘replace the small plant with an even bigger one’?”

“No.” I smoothed a hand over my lilac sweater. I’d felt cute when I’d left the house this morning, but in the face of beautiful Natalie and her flaming red swing dress and crimson lips, I felt myself shrinking.

Don’t shrink, don’t shrink, don’t shrink!

“No, I didn’t interpret it that way, and I don’t see this pot as junk. If it’s a problem, though, I’ll take it home.”

Natalie lowered her long, thick lashes, staring at me through slits. Then she waved me off and rolled her eyes. “It’s fine. Just keep it tucked under the counter so no one else sees it.” She pointed one of her dagger nails at my sweater. “This is pretty, but didn’t you just wear it last week?”

My hand shot up to my scoop-neck collar. “I might have. Is there a rule about how often I can wear my clothes?”

Her painted lips tipped into a not-so-friendly smile. “No rule, per se. But if you ever want to be more than a front desk receptionist, you really need to look the part. Of course you have limitations given your height and…other things, but you manage to make yourself look cute.” She clapped her hands together. “We should go shopping. What are you doing next weekend?”

My eyes widened. She had taken me so off guard, I couldn’t think of an answer fast enough to get out of her invitation. “Um. I don’t have concrete plans, but I have a son, so—”

Her mouth formed a perfect, cherry O. “Oh my god, I had no idea. How old?”

“He’s three.”

“No way.” She tossed her perfect curls behind her back. “I have a three-year-old niece. She lives in California, so I never get to see her. Bring your baby shopping with us. I’ll love up on him and play with him. It’ll be perfect.”

I should have been better braced for Natalie’s whiplash, but I didn’t think there was any getting used to her drastic change in moods from one second to the next.

“Ezra loves to play. Shopping, not so much.”

Her eyes drifted to the side, and she bit her lip. “You’re right. Holly isn’t really down for watching me try on clothes either. Nix the kid. We’ll do a playdate another time.”

With her decision made, she clattered away on her high, high heels, and I slumped back in my chair. I had no idea what had just happened. I didn’t really want to spend time with Natalie outside of work, but she hadn’t given me the opportunity to tell her no. I supposed that was one way to get what she wanted. Maybe I needed to take lessons.

Callum was standing outside of my regular coffee shop. I stopped in my tracks when I spotted him, tall and lean, huddled in his leather jacket that couldn’t have provided him nearly enough warmth. As soon as our eyes connected, he pushed off the wall and sauntered toward me.

I had twenty seconds to remember how to breathe. There was a time I used to dream about Callum walking toward me this way. In those dreams, I ran into his arms, and he wrapped me up tight. We’d breathe each other in and stare at one another in disbelief. We’d marvel that the person behind the screen was real. Solid. Perfect. But I’d screwed up everything before that ever happened, and now…now I didn’t know what we were.

I sucked in a breath and tucked my frozen hands in my pockets.

“Are you stalking me?” I asked.

The corner of his mouth hitched. “What would you say if I was?”

I lifted a shoulder. “It depends. Are you stalking me so you can find the perfect opportunity to get me alone and murder me, or are you just run-of-the-mill obsessed with me?”

His blue eyes sparkled with secrets and amusement. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

“Are you being ominous on purpose?”

He shoved his fingers through the side of his long hair. “Maybe mysterious.”

“What if I told you not to follow me?”

“I was here first, so you can’t claim I followed you, Wren.”

Rin. There’d be a time when hearing him say my name in his soft Alabama accent didn’t weaken my knees, but today wasn’t that day.

“Why are you here then? It seemed like maybe you were waiting for me.”

He nodded. “You’re right. I was. I enjoyed standing in line with you last week. I’d like a repeat of that.”

I snorted a light laugh. “A repeat of standing in line? Are you going to be mean to me again?”

His lids lowered, but his eyes never wavered from mine. “No, I won’t be mean to you. I didn’t think I was being mean last time. It wasn’t my intention.”

My feet itched to run. Even after what happened at the party on Friday, I believed I could slip out of Callum’s life without telling him I was his disappearing little bird. With every encounter we’d had since, that belief faded, and I was faced with reality. I had to tell him. And I would.

Just…not now. This conversation wasn’t suited for a public place.

“Okay. Let’s go inside and be nice to each other then.”

The line was even longer than last time, but instead of lurking behind me, Callum stood next to me. He didn’t speak, and neither did I. His arm stayed in constant contact with mine, and there was no denying it was purposeful.

Customers were taking second and third glances at Callum as they came and went. He lowered his head, locking eyes with the ground, but he was impossible to miss.

“Do you hate it?” I murmured.

His head canted toward me. “What?”

“The stares. Everyone’s looking. If they haven’t figured out who you are, they’re wondering.”

He paused for a moment and brought his eyes up to my face, scraping them over my features slowly. “I don’t love it, but I’m adept at ignorin’ it. People stare, but they usually leave me alone.”

Probably because he’d perfected that stone-cold expression of his. With his height, his stark features, and the fuck off snarl, he was more intimidating than inviting.

“You don’t have to be here with me, you know. I can bring you coffee to the studio.”

He brought his hand up and trailed his rough thumb along the rounded curve of my jaw. “I’m not really here for the coffee.”

My heart rattled in its cage like a can on prison bars. This man had no right to say something like that to me, and yet, here he was, being his blunt, Callum Rose self.

“The pastries?” I quipped. If I didn’t make light of this, I’d cry over what I’d lost with him. We could have had this. It could have been real. But now we were living in the calm before the storm that wiped us completely off the map.

He rolled his head in the direction of the well-lit case holding a wide selection of baked goods. “They’re not so bad. I have a massive sweet tooth.”

“Oh yeah? Which one are you going to choose?”

“You choose for me. I trust you, Wren.”

Oh, that was a dagger to my conscience. I couldn’t keep standing here with him, letting him say things like he trusted me and not tell him the truth. Or at least make a solid plan for telling him the truth. Jenny had been right—it wasn’t fair to Callum to be kept in the dark. Even if he never spoke to me again, I had to do it.

We ordered our drinks, I picked out a chocolate muffin for Callum, which he seemed to approve of, then we were back outside again. I was heading to the park to eat my lunch, and he had to get back to the studio.

But neither of us hurried off. I scuffed my heels on the sidewalk, and he stared down at me. I was trying to work up the nerve to ask him to meet me somewhere this weekend to talk, but he spoke first.

“You haven’t mentioned the plant. Did you like it?”

It took me a beat to understand what he meant. “The oversized succulent that mysteriously appeared on my desk this morning?”

He nodded, intent on my face.

“Of course I liked it. It was a surprise, though, since I already had a nice little plant.”

“Too little,” he said flatly.

“By your standards. That doesn’t make it fact, you know.” I dug my teeth into my bottom lip to hold back a smile. I never thought I’d have such an easy conversation with this man while I looked up at his bright, blue eyes with the winter sky behind him.

He shrugged. “I wanted you to have it. That’s all that matters.”

“Well, thank you.” I almost brought my hand up to touch him, but my arm suddenly weighed a thousand pounds and I couldn’t seem to lift it. “What did you do with the one Adam gave me?”

“It’s gone. I got rid of it.”

My nose wrinkled. “You threw away a perfectly good plant? That’s a crime, Callum. You can’t do that.”

“I did.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

His eyes flared for barely more than a breath, then went calm like a fathomless sea, peering back at me without a wave or whitecap in sight. If we weren’t standing in front of a coffee shop on a crowded sidewalk, I would have taken my time studying the sharp planes of his cheeks, the softness of his mouth, his hair glinting with gold in the sun. Callum Rose was starkly beautiful. Everything about him broke my heart a little more.

“Okay. I should go so I have time to eat lunch.”

“Okay,” he echoed. “I won’t be here tomorrow. We have to finish the album this week, so I’ll be locked in the studio.”

I nodded. “Makes sense. So…this might have been our last time waiting together.”

“No.” His hand flexed by his side. “No, definitely not.”

One last look, and he dropped his gaze from mine and strode with his head down in the direction of Good Music. My teeth dug into my bottom lip as I drank in his long gait, the shape of his ass in his jeans, his hair tucked into his collar, and every other detail I’d been starving for three years ago. I couldn’t quite grasp who this raw, real version of Callum Rose was, but I was beginning to think I liked him.

My chest ached with the very real possibility he wouldn’t think much of me anymore once I told him who I really was.

Three and a half years ago

Little Bird,

Things are happening for TSC.

We’re playing the Swerve Tour again this summer, and not on the tiny stage behind the port-a-potties you saw us on. We’ll be in front of the toilets this year.

This week, we’re headed into the studio to record a demo. There’s someone from A&R at Good Music coming out to see us play live. I don’t lean toward optimism, but I’m feeling hopeful. It’s strange. I didn’t think I cared whether TSC took off, but now that it might be happening, I’m finding I fucking want it.

I’m working my way toward you, Little Bird. I haven’t slept in the van all week. I talked to a stranger. I got a haircut. I’m close.

Here’s me being as honest as I can be: I’m more afraid of meeting you and ruining it than not getting the record deal. Does that make sense to you?

How are you? Any thoughts on moving to the city?

Callum

Dear Callum,

Of course you’re going to get a record deal. I knew TSC was going somewhere when I watched you behind the port-a-potties. And now look at you guys, in FRONT of them! You’re going places.

Haha, but for real, I’m so proud of you and the band. Even if it falls through (which it won’t), I’m proud, because you guys have worked your asses off.

Here’s me being honest back: I’m so freaking scared of meeting you and losing you after, I don’t know if I can go through with it. And that’s so stupid because I think about you every day. All I want is to deepen our connection, but I’m still hesitating.

You know me. I feel closer to you than everyone in my life aside from Jenny. If I lose you, I don’t know what I’ll do. How do I get over that fear, Callum?

I’m okay. My dad threw away my $200 textbook two days ago because I didn’t remember to start the dishes after dinner. I have to figure out how to scrape up enough money to buy a new one. Jenny will help if I ask, but I hate to ask. The city seems like such a far-off dream now. I don’t know what I was thinking even considering it.

I hope Crazy Leon doesn’t miss you too bad now that you’re not sleeping with him in the van.

Your neurotic friend,

Birdie

Little Bird,

I wish I could make you understand there’s nothing you could do to make me not want to know you. Do you get that? You are pretty much everything.

I’m scared too. For the same reasons as you and a thousand others. This is the exact wrong time in my life to even attempt to move you and me to real life, but I can’t go another year and a half without knowing what your presence feels like.

Can you, Little Bird?

I would offer you the money for your book, but I know you won’t take it. If you change your mind, please tell me. I’m not rich, but I’ve saved everything I’ve earned and can easily spare $200. Or more if you need it. You want me to put a hit out on your dad? I think I can afford it. Or I’ll do it myself for free. If that man touches you in any other way than fatherly kindness, you won’t be able to stop me from showing up.

I heard this new song on the radio yesterday and it reminded me of you. I rarely connect with lyrics, but this song put me on my ass. Have you heard “Hold My Girl” by George Ezra? Give me a minute, Little Bird.

Callum