Page 87 of This Broken Heart

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Page 87 of This Broken Heart

These hands have held onto my grandmother’s hand on her dying day.

And these lips have kissed Josh Olson.

I’m not ashamed of this body. I’m going to celebrate it.

We step into the bar, and it’s immediately apparent that I’ve overdressed.

But if you ask me, these hayseeds underdressed.

It’s New Years Freaking Eve. They can’t change out of their jeans for one night?

I have to admit, Josh is looking pretty good in his particular pair, but I’m not supposed to be looking. At least, not in public.

We haven’t seen each other since we made our strange little agreement. You’d think talking things through would clear the air. Make life a little simpler. It’s done the opposite. We’ve admitted we’re attracted to each other, but all that’s done is blown the cover off all the accidental physical interactions. We can’t play innocent anymore. If he touches my hand, I know why. If I get caught staring, that’s obvious now, too.

He doesn’t want everyone knowing we’re doing whatever it is we’re doing. I can understand why, but that leaves me in a bar full of strangers without a shoulder to lean on.

When I spot Bo and Dusty, relief washes over me. I’m aware I’m drawing a lot of attention. Some of it is good, some of it is not so great. That’s just life. Haters gonna hate.

Bo and Dusty are smiling at me, and they’re the only friends I’m interested in impressing. I can feel Josh trailing behind me, close enough to feel his warmth, far enough away to appear platonic.

Dusty has no qualms about getting too close. “Holy shit. You look gorgeous.”

I let him pull me into a hug, ignoring the flat look on Josh’s face. “Thanks. It’s not too much?”

“It’s just right.” Dusty grins. He catches me looking at the stage. “You gonna sing for us later?”

“Karaoke?” I ask, turning to look back at Josh.

His gaze softens. “I thought you might like that.”

Dusty smacks Bo. “You two should break the ice.”

I glance at Bo. “You sing?”

“Not particularly. I just have less shame than the rest of them.”

Dusty laughs. “For the record, I have absolutely no shame. My audience, however, needs a lot more liquor in them before they can tolerate this song bird.”

Josh meets my gaze. “You said this was your favorite thing to do on New Year’s Eve. You should get up there. Kick it off.”

I look at Bo. “Will you go with me?”

He nods, setting his beer aside. “You bet.”

We climb up on the stage and I can feel curious eyes following my movement. I haven’t sung in front of a crowd since high school, but it’s amazing how quickly it all comes back to me.

I don’t know a lot of country songs, but Bo and I settle on one I’m familiar with—Whiskey Lullaby. And despite Bo’s humility, he has a voice like smoky honey, and he can find the harmonies with no trouble. It’s so much fun, we decide to sing another.

I pick another country song I know, “I Hate This” by Tenille Arts. I picked it because it’s fun to sing. Bo and I trade off, taking verses, but as I’m singing the lyrics, I’m realizing that the words are a lot more spot on than I intended.

It’s a song about a woman who’s tired of pretending.

My eyes connect with Josh’s part way through and the look on his face almost sets me on fire.

When the song is over, I put the mic down and step away. Leave it to country music to be so easily weaponized.

I’m not really ready to face Josh. I’ll have to act like those words didn’t mean anything to me, when it’s the most honest I’ve ever been.




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