Can't Get Over You (Fortune's Island, Book 2) (4 page)

“Dude, you gotta get your shit together. That producer is supposed to come see us play next weekend.” Duff ran a hand through his hair. “Do you know how hard we’ve all worked to get this audition?”

Zach did know. His dream, from the day he picked up his first guitar, had been to make it big, to be an artist with a label—and an actual CD. Not to spend the rest of his life playing in bars and at Bar Mitzvahs. He’d spent every waking moment either practicing music, writing music or performing it. The Outsiders had had a modicum of success—modicum meaning they split a couple thousand dollars a week between the four of them—performing in local venues and selling their own music on iTunes, but it had never reached the kind of stratospheric levels that would bring them fame and fortune. A future.

That was what Jillian didn’t get. That going after his dream required time, sacrifice. He couldn’t just drop everything to be with her, or blow off a booking to go to a wedding for her third cousin twice removed or whatever. As for getting married—

He had procrastinated on that because he didn’t want to be some loser playing in crappy, crowded bars, trying to support a wife and someday, kids. Jillian had grown tired of waiting, and left that ring on his amp one night three months ago.

Zach had been lost ever since.

His music suffered, his sleep had damned near disappeared, and his motivation to be anything other than miserable was at a zero. But Duff was right—they had this gig before one of the producers from an indie label he’d sent a demo tape to, and if Zach didn’t get his shit together, he was going to blow it. For himself, and for the band that was counting on him.

“Let’s run through ‘You’re the Everything’ one more time,” Zach said. “From the top.”

The other guys exchanged a glance, then AJ, the drummer, gave a little nod, and started tapping out the opening beat. Ian fingered the melody on the keyboard, Duff joined in on bass, followed by Zach on the electric guitar. Zach took a step forward, brought his mouth to the mic, and began to sing.

But as he belted out the words to the ballad he’d written a year ago, something in his heart hurt. He remembered scrawling the lyrics in the spiral bound notebook he took everywhere he went, jotting the beginnings of the music in the margins. A week later, he pulled it all together, then ran over to Jillian’s in the middle of the night to wake her up and let her hear it. The words had been from his heart—words he wanted to say to her but never could. It was as if his tongue got all tied up when they were together, like a stutterer who could only speak smoothly in song.

“Everything,” he crooned now, “you’re the everything.”

For three months, he’d avoided singing this song at The Love Shack. But come next Sunday night, he was going to have to sing it, fully aware Jillian was in the same room. Maybe by then, singing the song wouldn’t feel like ripping his chest in two.

This audition was his last chance, he knew, to either make this a real career or face the music—no pun intended—and go back home to Manomet and get a real job. Which would mean living near his family again.

All these years, Zach had been hoping he wouldn’t have to go back there. Sure, he visited his family, but he never stayed long. An hour, two tops. Just enough to put in an appearance, ease the guilt on his shoulders, then get back out the door and over to his life on the island.

He wants to see you,
his mother had said on the phone earlier.
He’ll be home next week.

His brother. The one person who used to be Zach’s best friend, the one person he had trusted more than anyone or anything.

And the one person who had destroyed that trust so irrevocably, Zach had vowed never to speak Keith’s name again.

They finished the song, with one last strum on the guitar, then Zach lifted the Fender off his shoulders and set it on the stand. “Let’s take five.”

He really wanted to take five million minutes—or as many as it took to get his life back on track—but this would have to do.

The band milled around Duff’s garage, ignoring the tools on the peg board, the shelves of paint and oil, the old recliner stuffed in the corner. Duff had gotten married six months ago and his now-pregnant wife was constantly on his back about getting someplace else for the band to practice. Duff just rolled his eyes, but Zach and the other guys knew that as soon as the baby was born, Duff was going to lose his garage practice space to some kind of mommy bus with a car seat.

Lori, Duff’s wife, came out to the garage. “Brought you and the band some ice water and sandwiches, baby,” she said to Duff. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and, for a second, Duff stared at his wife with the kind of adoration some men had for brand-new Porsches.

“Thanks, babe.” He kissed her back, then took the tray of turkey and cheese sandwiches and laid it on top of the amp. “Dinner is served.”

The men dug in. Duff was the only married one in the bunch, and therefore the only one who ate anything remotely healthy on a daily basis. Even the sandwiches Lori had made were healthier than the ones Zach usually slapped together for himself. Today’s lunch was whole grain bread, with organic turkey and cheese, topped with thick slices of tomato and layers of lettuce. Something called hummus instead of fattening mayo sat between the layers. There was a side of red and yellow pepper slices with Greek yogurt spinach dip, instead of the usual Doritos.

“Man, how does your wife make this bird food taste good?” Ian said. “Almost makes me want to go running to Whole Foods. Almost.”

Duff laughed. “Yeah, she’s all worried I’m going to have a heart attack before I’m thirty and leave her a single mom. I don’t know what it is about pregnancy, man, but it’s got Lori all worried about the
what-ifs
. I told her I’ve got plenty of time before my youthful bad habits catch up with me.”

AJ snorted. “Youthful bad habits. Whatever you wanna call those beer pong games, Professor Duff.”

“I’m serious, man. I’m growing up. I have a family to support now. I can’t be staying out all night and spending what money I make on beer. In fact, if this thing with the producer doesn’t work out, I’m thinking of…” Duff twirled the water bottle between his hands, “leaving the band and taking that job with my dad.”

“Bullshit.” Ian snorted. “You’d never leave the band.”

“I would for Lori. And my baby.” A quiet smile stole across Duff’s face. “They matter more to me than anything.”

Something that felt weirdly like jealousy curled in Zach’s gut. That was nuts. He didn’t want the responsibility of a family right now.

“More than music?” AJ shook his head. “You’re crazy, dude. When you wake up from this insanity, let me know.”

“Nah, it’s true. I think about my wife and my baby all the time. I’d do anything for them. That’s why this thing with the producer is such a big deal. I want to be able to provide, you know what I mean? And do a job I love, a job that my kid would be proud of. Like, all that
that’s my dad
stuff.” Duff waved a hand. “Geez, we gotta stop singing that ‘You’re The Everything’ song. It makes me all emotional.”

“Yeah, me too.” Ian rubbed a fist against his eye and mocked a sob. “I’m all choked up, man.”

Duff slugged him. “Let’s get back to practice.”

Zach finished off his sandwich in one bite, wiped his hands, then grabbed his guitar. He settled in behind the mic, strumming a few notes just to get back in the rhythm, but his mind was on what Duff had said. On the way his friend had looked at his wife, talked about his baby. That jealous feeling still filled Zach’s gut. Jillian had wanted him to do the same thing—find a real job, get married, plan a future, have kids down the road. But he’d balked and stalled and, in the end, lost Jillian.

He’d worried that if he did what she wanted—if they turned into Duff and Lori—that five, ten, fifteen years down the road, he’d find himself wearing a suit and tie every day, selling insurance or vacuum cleaners or some shit. His guitar would be sitting in a corner, gathering dust, and his chest would grow with resentment and disappointment every day. Zach had seen it happen to his father. Carl had become more and more resentful every year, cursing the time clock he punched every day like it was a noose around his neck. Zach didn’t want to turn into that, an angry man sitting in a chair, belching over a six-pack of Bud every night.

Maybe that wouldn’t be him after all. Next weekend, he had a chance to see his dream come true. A moment he had anticipated for years. A moment he had wanted to share with Jillian, to turn to her and say,
hey, baby, look, it finally happened.

Only she was gone, and if his dream came true, he’d be celebrating with a bunch of guys instead of her.

He sang the next song, a cover of a rock song, but his mind kept wandering to Jillian. She’d told him it was over. No way, no how were they getting back together. But when he’d seen
her on the road yesterday, when his eyes had met hers for just a moment, he’d had a sense—for just a second—that maybe there was a window there. An opening.

And maybe if he could fix this one screwed up part of his life, he could figure out how to make the rest work, too. Because if there was one thing he knew, and knew deep in his gut, it was that without Jillian, none of it came together.

Was he going to let her get away again? Let another three months pass, where he just hoped things would magically change?

He took off his guitar and put it on the stand. “Sorry, guys, but I gotta go.”

“Wait! What are you doing?” Duff unplugged the bass from the amp and came around to the other side of the mic.

Zach considered the band, the dream he had held onto for so long. It could wait, he decided, for a little while. “Something I should have done a long time ago.”

FOUR

Jillian changed her outfit four times on Thursday night. She’d almost canceled her date with Ethan, but once she told Darcy about it, there was no going back. Mostly because Darcy wouldn’t hear of Jillian skipping out on the date, and had told both Whit and Grace, as added insurance that Jillian wouldn’t renege. “You deserve to have fun,” Darcy had said. “And to meet someone who values you the way you should be valued.”

Those were the words that Jillian held onto whenever she thought about canceling. Zach had never valued her, and probably never would. The number one thing in his life, the only thing he wanted, was the band. Dreams were wonderful, but not, Jillian thought, if they came at the expense of the people you cared about.

This past summer, Jillian had watched Darcy fall in love again with Kincaid, the man who had stolen her heart years ago. They were living together in a little house next door to Kincaid’s sister and her new baby girl. To Jillian, Darcy and Kincaid made the perfect couple. They were always smiling or laughing, constantly holding hands or finding some other reason to touch, to connect. Jillian hadn’t seen her best friend that happy in a long, long time.

That
was what Jillian wanted for herself, too. Someone who brought her happiness every day, not heartache and disappointment.

The only way to find that was to start dating again. Ethan might not be Mr. Right, but he was Mr. Right Now, and she’d take that.

She curled her hair, leaving it long around her shoulders, then settled on a red cotton dress with a faint pattern of shimmery birds on the skirt. She paired it with low heels, and a chunky silver bracelet she’d picked up at a flea market on the mainland last summer. She bent toward the mirror to touch up her lipstick, just as the doorbell rang.

Her heart stuttered. Just the thought of being out with someone new, after all those years with Zach, was both terrifying and exciting. She felt as nervous as she had in high school when Zach had first asked her out.

She smoothed a hand over her hair, took a deep breath, then pulled open the door. The smile died on her face when she saw who it was. “Zach. What are you doing here?”

He stood there, looking like he always did, in a pair of worn jeans and a battered concert T-shirt. His dark brown hair was a little long, and one lock fell over his eyebrow, dusting above his brown eyes. He was tall, lean and muscled from years of working part-time at landscaping and construction jobs to help pay the bills. He looked like the kind of guy a girl could lean on and depend upon, but Jillian knew better. “I wanted to talk, Jillian.”

She sighed. “We’ve been through this a thousand times. We don’t have anything to talk about.”

“We have plenty to talk about. Starting with us.”

“There is no us, Zach. You blew that when you refused to set a date and truly make a commitment. I was tired of waiting for you to…well, frankly, grow up.”

He gave her that hapless look that usually won her over. “I know I screwed up, Jillian. But I want another chance. I want to prove to you that—”

“Stop. Just stop.” She’d waited three months to hear those words. In the first few days after they’d broken up, she’d gone to bed each night, devastated that he hadn’t called, hadn’t texted. In the morning, the days would stretch long and empty and painful, while she waited on a man who wasn’t coming. And now, when she’d finally gotten herself together and gotten over him, he wanted to say those words? “It’s too late.”

His face fell. The cocky confidence that used to draw her disappeared. “We dated for eight years. You’re just going to throw that away?”

“I’m moving on. Moving forward. I’m not going backward. If I do…” She drew in a breath, surprised it hurt. “Anything with you again is a step backward, not forward.”

He cocked his head and studied her. “You don’t believe I can change.”

“People don’t change, Zach. They are who they are. And you and I are just not…good together. Not anymore.”

“Jillian—”

But she’d stopped listening to Zach. Ethan had pulled up, parking his silver rental car behind Zach’s Mustang. Ethan got out of the car, wearing dark blue trousers, a white button-down shirt and a dark green tie. He straightened the knot, then came up the walkway to her second-floor apartment. He looked like a grown-up, a man who was going places, rather than Zach, who looked like he’d just stumbled out of a homeless shelter or something.