Page 53 of Moonlit Hideaway
“Since we have a few days, how about you show me what your world is like?”
“Be glad to.” Her lips curled into a smile. “We come from two different worlds, but I believe we can meet in the middle.”
Warmth flooded Hank’s chest at her words. He turned his hand to lace their fingers, relishing her touch. “I do want to work something out with you. Show me what it’s like to be you.”
“Then let’s go to Atlantic City.”
Chapter Nineteen
“A detour to Atlantic City? Why not?” Hank grinned as he followed the navigation from the New Jersey Turnpike toward the Garden State Parkway. “It’ll allow you to show me what makes you tick.”
“Sure, we can attend a live show.” Sierra tapped on her phone to look at the performers. “You’ll love the light effects. I want to show you what it’s like for me—the crowds, the energy. It fills me in a way nothing else does.”
“Looks like we’re far enough from Newark to stop for a bite.” Hank spotted a roadside diner. “How about that place?”
“The typical greasy spoon. Sure, let’s check it out.” Sierra pulled the hood of the gray hoodie Agent Patterson gave her over her head.
Inside, the diner was a blend of kitsch and nostalgia, from its red vinyl booths to the gleaming chrome accents. The scent of coffee and bacon hung in the air. The few diners inside were of the geriatric crowd, and other than the old men looking her over, no one seemed to recognize her.
While Hank looked over the one-page menu, Sierra had her eyes glued to her phone as she tapped out comments on social media while grumbling about Patterson’s stupid responses.
“You need to be careful,” he warned gently. “Might be better not to look.”
“I know, I know.” She tucked the phone into her hoodie pocket. “Seeing someone else take over your life is so strange.”
“Sometimes it’s better not to look. Besides, this is your life now. It’s real, and we’re together right now.” He felt like an old-school professor trying to show her how people used to converse. He realized Sierra’s online life was as important to her as her physical life. Emma was like that, too, always on social media. How could he keep up with them when he was satisfied to read a book or go fishing without the need to connect with people he’d never met?
Sierra gave him a sheepish smile. “I’ve seen you on your phone, too, but I get it. We’re on our vacation getaway together.”
“Yes, but it’s only to check out your videos and play your songs,” he said.
“Who’s about to blow my cover?” She arched an eyebrow as the waitress approached them to take their orders. “What songs and videos? I’m just boring Jane Dolan.”
They ordered and sipped their coffee, staying quiet until the waitress retreated.
“You’re nothing if not fascinating.” He loved having her complete attention, and he could stare into those mesmerizing green eyes forever. “Tell me, when did you realize you wanted to be a performer? What drove you to pursue a life in the spotlight?”
“I guess it was a bit of wanting to get attention from my dad. You know, my two older half-sisters belonged to his wife, and I was the love child,” she began as her eyes took that distant look back in time.
“I was eight. It was at this huge family gathering; everyone crowded inside while a storm raged outside. My sisters kept teasing me and showing off. Dana did her ballet steps, totteringaround like a wobbly top, and Gloria juggled bean bags. My mother wanted me to show my dad I was made of something better, so she pushed me to sing. I belted out some sappy pop song, my voice thin and warbling.” She huffed a soft laugh.
“I’m sure you were better than you thought,” Hank said, encouraging her to continue.
“My sisters laughed, and my mother had her hand over her mouth, looking like I’d embarrassed her, but then my dad jumped up shouting, ‘Bravo,’ and then everyone started clapping and whistling. They wanted me to sing another song, and this time, I wasn’t nervous. It was like I drew energy from their enthusiasm.”
“So, instead of stage fright, you had stage delight.”
“Yes, that’s exactly it. I felt alive—like the song was flowing through me and connecting me to the world. With my voice, I can reach inside people and touch their hearts.”
“That’s real talent.”
Sierra leaned back, her gaze distant. “Later, so much changed. Everything became surface and artifice, success measured in clicks, streams, and ticket sales. But underneath, I’m still that girl wanting to spin storms into songs. To touch souls with that magic my eight-year-old self discovered.”
“You’re always that girl to me,” Hank said, covering her hand with his. “You have a rare gift.”
Sierra smiled, about to respond, when the waitress plopped down their plates. “Eggs and bacon for him, short stack for the lady.”
As they ate, Hank’s phone buzzed. His mom’s face lit up the screen.
