Over the Hills and Far Away (NOLA's Own #1) (12 page)

The look I gave her was bleak. “You don’t know how badly I want to believe that, Lili. I just know that if I do, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to move on. Right now, it’s okay for me that I have one happy memory to look back on this past year. I can’t let it be more than that. I don’t have it in me to hope anymore.”

Lili shot me a strange look, one that made me wonder just what it was she was thinking. After a few heartbeats, she nodded, and I never asked.

After that, we headed inside and went into our own separate rooms. I sat down at my desk and pulled out a notebook, flipping through until I reached the clean sheets toward the back. My heart was pounding with a bizarre combination of excitement and trepidation.

What if he really did write that for me? If he magically appeared right now, what would I even say to him?

Pulling out a black ballpoint pen, I pushed it onto the page. I was hoping that in writing to him, I could release my emotions and be able to move forward from that night.

Dearest Phil…

Gods above, that was so lame.

It didn’t take long to express to him what I was feeling. I wanted closure, yet I felt ripped wide open.

I really hope this gaping wound in my soul is because I’m stressed and overburdened with raging hormones all out of whack, and this will pass in time. In a few decades, I’ll find this and have a good laugh. Maybe I just need to get laid.

Folding up the letter, I placed it in an envelope addressed
A Love Letter to a Madman.
Before I forgot and left it lying around for a nosy Lili to come across, I located my NOLA’s Junk scrapbook and taped it to the hard back.

Drained rather than relieved, I crawled into bed and fell asleep.

The release of
Adopted Son
set off a small tour for NOLA’s Junk around the Southern states. They’d be performing at some small venues and clubs to help spread their sound.

It was a quiet afternoon when Alys called us and told us they’d be playing at a venue in Lafayette, a club called Wigglers. She had bought three tickets, and Lili and I drove up for the weekend.

Hating the dorm life, Alys had been renting a small house with a few other students she had met. After winter break, they had moved into the four-bedroom, two-bath house. Located in a heavily wooded neighborhood, Alys had been the first to admit that it was a bit creepy, especially at night. We’d all watched the horror movies where nonvirgin college students would get the axe for being promiscuous and running around in their underwear. But it was actually a really nice place.

After Lili had finished class on Friday, we grabbed our bags, gave Grandma a hug and a kiss, and made the two-hour drive to Alys’s. The concert would start at eight o’clock, giving us a couple of hours to grab some dinner and get dressed.

Much to Lili’s horror, I flat-out refused to wear any makeup, and I stuffed my hair into my black cabby hat, so I wouldn’t have to do anything with it.

I had no plans of running into Phil. The venue was too big, and as much as I secretly wanted to be with him, I sensed that it would be best to admire him from afar. If I were honest with myself, I thought I was scared—either of rejection or the temptation to just run away with him, if that were even an option. I wasn’t sure which.

“You’re seriously not going to at least try to see him?” Lili fumed at me from her position in front of the bathroom mirror.

“No,” I scoffed.

“I can’t believe this!” she said. “You guys owe it to each other—”

“Well, tough shit. Like I need the stress of being just another notch on his metal-god belt.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to get laid,” joked Alys.

“It might. Only the gods know what he’s stuck it in over the past year. There are all sorts of shit going around anymore—”

“That’s why there are condoms,” she supplied dryly.

“I’m not going to try to see him. I just want to see my favorite band play. No stress. Just fun. Okay?”

“Okay,” replied Alys.

Lili shot daggers at me from her eyeballs, but she kept her evil little mouth shut.

After a few bong rips, we headed out for the club at seven o’clock. On the drive, I started to feel that excitement I used to get when going to a really good show. It’d been a long time since I went to a concert, and I was dying to just listen to some loud, heavy live music. I thought Lili felt the same way. She hadn’t seen a show since I did. Alys, on the other hand, would scope out the rock clubs with her roommates on the weekends, living the college life as she should.

I was practically bouncing as we parked the car.

Being in a college neighborhood, the club was eighteen and over, and we got stamped with huge black
18
s on the backs of our hands as we made it through the door.

It was packed. There had to be close to a thousand people in here. With no more room on the ground floor, we made our way up to the second level and actually found a decent spot along the railing with an unimpeded view.

NOLA’s Junk was headlining, but two other great bands were opening for them. They got our energy up and buzzing for Our Boys. We didn’t leave our spot at all—not to pee, not to get a drink.
Nothing
was worth losing it.

When the lights went down, signaling that Our Boys were ready to come up, a zing of pure joy coursed through me. At first, I wasn’t exactly sure what it was. It had been so long since I generated any positive feelings within myself.

I’m going to see him, my Dark God of the Universe. In a few moments, I’m going to see him before me and hear his voice. I’m so fucking happy I could scream!

So I did—along with everyone else. Jason Jones’s guitar shrieked into action, and the lights exploded on the stage.

Our Boys! Rocking the fuck out!

My world blew up into full Technicolor. The colors I’d thought only existed in my lovesick head were out in full bloom, and I could just weep with the beauty of it, of
him
, standing right before me.

Phil, at some point in the last ten months, had shaved his head, and he was now growing out his thick brown hair, which he hadn’t bothered to style. It was just sexy-messy. The dream catchers were hidden, which was a shame because they were true works of art. But still, he was the most beautiful man I’d ever laid eyes on. Wearing a black Iron Maiden T-shirt that had seen better days and charcoal Dickies with his beaten shit-kickers, he was the epitome of a heavy-metal sex machine. I spotted a few more tattoos gracing his well-muscled long arms
.

Perfection.

My heart fairly tripped over itself. He looked healthy and happy, too. That just made my conviction not to see him that much stronger. He was living his dream, and there was no way I wanted to get involved in that. He had so much ahead of him
. What would be the point in trying to hook up with him again?
I wouldn’t willingly let go if we did, and I didn’t have it in me to be heartbroken right now. Their hard-earned success had made them all local legends. Their success and happiness was enough for me.

Liar. Go ahead and try to fool everyone else, but don’t lie to yourself.

They were going to conquer the world while I was just a nobody. Sure, I was going to be a doctor, but even doctors dreamed of being rock stars—or in my case, having a deep and meaningful relationship with one of them. We were going in two completely
different directions that, in all likelihood, would never intersect again. That one night was probably all Phil and I would ever have, and I needed to be grateful that I had had even that.

“Thank you, Lafayette!” Phil’s voice cried out at the end of the set. “You’ve been beautiful to us, and we’ll be back soon!”

I bought two shirts before we made our way out of the club. One was a black tank top with
NOLA’S Junk
written across the front in red letters, and the second was a gray T-shirt with the same photo as my poster. I saved the latter for sleeping purposes. When I wore it, Phil’s head would rest between my unimpressive boobs.

The following week, I sat for the boards and passed with flying colors—as did Gavin. Happy that we were now certified therapists, we started the process of putting ourselves out for work.

A few weeks after that, I received a phone call from Rita Holmes. My transcripts had circulated through the sub-medical grapevine, and she was quite impressed with my 3.8 GPA and wanted to meet me.

Rita ran the Center for Radiant Health. It’d started out as a spa-and-beauty type of business, but Rita wanted to incorporate a medical aspect. Natural therapy was becoming in demand, and she saw it as a great opportunity to bring in more clientele.

What was fantastic was that she’d called Gavin, too, and we both ended up meeting at the center for interviews on the same day. No-nonsense woman that she seemed to be, Rita took us both at the same time.

Rita was reed thin with wild curly brown hair and dark blue eyes.

“I want to be able to offer medical grade therapy to people. Right now, this place is a glorified spa. I want something more serious, and I’m looking for people who want to help others get well and improve their health, not just pamper and provide relaxation. You two have outstanding transcripts, and your type of education is just what I’m looking for.”

Gavin was ready to start right away.

I had some reservations. “Ms. Holmes—”

“Rita,” she stated firmly. “I don’t need to feel older than I already am.”

“Rita,” I repeated and nodded. “The only thing standing in my way of going full-time with this is that I’m continuing with school this fall. It’s my goal to earn my doctorate. I’ve got three more years of study and two years interning in a hospital setting. It’s really important to me that I accomplish this.”

She looked at me like I’d just handed her Christmas.

“We’ll work around that,” she told me. “Like I said, this hasn’t happened yet. It’s something I want to build, and I think I want to build it with the two of you. If one of you becomes a practicing doctor, that would be even better.”

Throughout the summer, I worked five days a week at the center with Gavin. We started taking more people with an actual need for therapy, and word quickly got around about the two brilliant therapists working there. The reputation for the center grew, and Rita’s business increased.

“I want to cover the costs of your school,” Rita said after pulling me into her office one evening following a long day. “Before you go and get excited, thinking I’m being generous, I want you to know that it’s purely selfish on my part. I want to do this to ensure that you stay here with me and the clinic I plan to open. You will be the resident physician, Kenna. It will be
yours
. I will pay for your tuition, if you promise me, in writing, that you’ll stay on with me. Take some time to think about it. No need to answer me today.”

Stunned, I nodded and headed for home.

The whole drive, I knew I was going to accept. With Mom’s life insurance policy and help from Grandma and Da, we’d still be a bit strapped to pay for tuition and have a decent living. There was no way I could pass up this opportunity. Still, I ran it by both of them, and they agreed that there were worse things than getting a free ride through school and someone handing me a practice.

The next day, before I even got started, I marched my ass up to Rita’s office, knocked on the door, and asked, “Where do I sign?”

Smiling like a kid in a candy store, Rita pulled out a hefty stack of legal documents and a pen from her desk drawer. “Right here.”

Three years of tuition were paid with my John Hancock. Such a satisfying feeling, signing my soul away, I had to admit. I returned to the spa and continued on working as though nothing had happened.