Page 29 of A Love Song for Dreamers

“You playing hooky fromwork?”

I stick my head out, glaring up at him. “Tyler, I’mserious.”

“Not a work call. Boyfriend, then. Wonder if he knows you’re duckinghim.”

The casual words drag me back to thepast.

The first time we broke up, when he left me after high school, it was a rip. A violenttear.

The second time was a loosening, little by little. Day by day. My heart wasn’t ripped from my chest; it was pried—with a blunt, persistent instrument—worked under one edge at a time, until nothing remained to hold it in itsplace.

Unreturned phone messages thanks to demanding rehearsals. Half-hearted texts after long flights. Two months of slow descent, the beginning of theend.

But it was what I wanted when I told him to take that tour. For his life to go on, and minetoo.

We’ve both moved on.I resist the urge to rub at my chest, the dull ache there as my fingers rush to finish what I started so I can get out of here, get relief from the way his presence affectsme.

The cord finally clicks into place, and I grunt with triumph before I rock back on my heels to take himin.

“What about you?” I challenge, thinking of how I walked in on him yesterday. “Is that why you never post on social—so you can keep a bunch of women in different cities who want to think they’re the only one? It’s not original, but it’seffective.”

Tyler drops into the task chair. He props an elbow on the armrest, displaying the threads of ink that wind up his arm. I swear there are more than there were two years ago. I try to ignore the fact that his perfect denim-clad hips, those strong legs, are at eyelevel.

“I don’t post pics with women because it’s not my ‘brand’.” The self-mocking in his voice and the air quotes make me blink. “Marketing sent me a sheet with these adjectives about how the label thinks I shouldappear.”

I stand, then sink my hips back against the desk. I realize too late I’m still practically in his lap. “Let me guess—you’re mysterious but earnest. Intense. Maybe even repressed, except when you’re onstage.”

“How’d you get acopy?”

I can’t help laughing, and Tyler grins too. The familiarity of it washes overme.

“I didn’t. But I know you. I know how you are on stage and when you’re alone in a room. I know why fans go crazy for you, and I know the things they’d go crazier for if theyknew.”

The laughter in his eyes fades at the intimacy of mywords.

Okay, acting civilized is one thing. Don’t let this get weird, Ichastise.

“So when are you heading back to LA?” I ask, dragging a finger along the surface of the desk for somewhere to look that’s not his handsome face, the lines of his strong arms, or the hand covered in scars and newink.

“I promised to help your dad out with his new protégé for a couple of weeks while I’m onbreak.”

My gaze snaps to his. “You’re not staying at the house.” The horror in my voice would be funny under othercircumstances.

“I have ahotel.”

Relief has me sagging against the desk. “I might be sticking around a couple of weeks,too.”

Those chocolate eyes spark so fast I almost think I’ve imaginedit.

I’m here to clear my head for work and helpHaley.

Tyler could be adistraction.

Youthink?

I can handle being around him for a few days. I’ll probably barely seehim.

It’s not like high school, where we were bumping into each other in the kitchen, by the pool, every day inclass.

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