She was missing part of his show.
The only show she'd ever see, but not the last show he would ever perform. He had thousands of crowds to entertain still, and she wasn't the woman he needed by his side.
"You want to go back, or you need more air?" Jackson said.
Lindsey gulped in one more big breath.
She wanted to go home. She wanted to run away, pack her bags, and move to Siberia with Kimmie.
But she couldn't run out on Will.
He deserved an honest good-bye this time. "I'm ready," she said.
They returned to the hangar with the BillyVision crew flanking them, the camera off. Will was alone onstage, all the lights down except a single spotlight on him. He was settled on a stool, adjusting his mic. He scanned the crowd, then gave his guitar a strum. Something sweet but hard came out. He looked at Lindsey. "Y'all want to hear something new?" he said.
The crowd went wild. Even through her earplugs, Lindsey heard the roar.
"This one here's going out to a special lady tonight," Will said. "She asked me to write a happy song."
Lindsey's heart stuttered. She'd almost missed her song.
She shouldn't have asked him to write it. She didn't belong in his life. She wasn't strong enough to live in his life.
He smiled, and then music poured from his fingers.
It filled the hangar, the sounds of strength and softness, and wrapped around her. The sounds weren't comforting, weren't comfortable, but they were right.
She didn't want to let the sound in. But she couldn't walk away. Because this could be the last thing he ever gave her.
"A black heart don't know how to love, that's what they all said," he sang.
Lindsey's breath caught on a lump in her throat.
"That smile, it lies, those eyes, they hypnotize, but ain't nothing can hide the dark inside."
Wait. This-this-was his song to her?
Maybe he did understand the end was coming.
He closed his eyes, and he went all into the song.
But that heart, it wasn't born coal,
Took a lifetime to freeze it cold,
She's what they let her believe, can't dance, can't sing, can only hide.
Hiding.
He thought she was hiding.
And he wasn't wrong.
"But she's more," Will sang.
She's more than she knows,
She's more than she shows,
The world can't see it,
She's hiding it deep,
But my girl, my angel,
Your black heart glows.
Oh, baby, that rainbow in your heart glows.
Lindsey hugged herself tighter.
He was-his song-he could see her. He saw how she thought the world saw her, and he saw so much more.
You believed in me, he'd said.
He opened his eyes, slid a look at her.
She listened to the judging, watched them shut her out,
Misunderstood, called wrong,
She hurts, but she's strong,
So she took a pen and wrote it on her heart.
He was telling her story.
More, he was telling her he believed in her.
He believed she could be everything he needed her to be.
She blinked quickly.
This was not a happy song.
Will closed his eyes again.
A whole world of being alone,
Of being told she don't belong,
And now her heart's colored over, black ink, sharp stings, a girl apart.
"But she's more," Will sang.
She's more than she knows,
She's more than she shows,
The world can't see it,
She's hiding it deep,
But my girl, my angel, your black heart glows.
Oh, baby, that rainbow in your heart glows.
The music changed. It went deeper and softer, the combination of sounds and rhythm and speed making her heart beat in time with the music.
He took an audible breath in the microphone.
Now it's my turn to paint your heart, put the color back on your soul,
Red and blue, yellow, green, let me show the world the you that I know,
Trust me one more time,
Love me one more time,
I want to write our best story on your heart.
"Because you're more," he sang.
You're more than you know,
And you're only starting to show,
The world's gonna see it,
Don't hide it deep.
My girl, my angel, your rainbow heart glows.
Baby, let that rainbow in your heart glow.
Lindsey was short of breath and her cheeks were wet.
He loved her.
Will loved her.
He knew her, he saw her, and he still loved her.
But love wasn't always enough.
Not when she could never be the girl Billy Brenton needed.
SATURDAY MORNING, Lindsey and Will slept in. Considering how late his show went, and then the extra hour he stayed afterward to sign autographs from the stage, she was surprised either of them moved before noon.
She hadn't mentioned her encounter with his BillyVision crew. She didn't want to get them in trouble, but more, she selfishly wanted one last day with Will, with no thoughts of Billy.
But then he asked if he could take her an hour down the road to Pickleberry Springs. To his home.
To a place where Lindsey was quite possibly the only person qualified to help his family.
She knew Sacha most likely wouldn't be there. That Will hadn't heard from her in a week, that Mikey's momma was reporting there wasn't a person in Pickleberry Springs who had seen her and that Will had hired a friend of Mikey's to track her down.
But his Aunt Jessie would be there. Aunt Jessie's husband would be there.
And even though Will didn't ask Lindsey to use her gift, she knew he'd be watching to see what she saw.
"Will," she said, "this won't change us."
She wanted to go with him. But she needed to be strong. She had to say good-bye to him tomorrow. Today was the last day she had to help him. She had to walk away tomorrow. She had to stick to her rule.
For both their sakes.
"You ever been in the land of moonshine and armadillos?" Will asked.
She shook her head. He told her to hustle her cute little butt on up into his truck and let him be in charge for one day out of twenty-one. So mid-afternoon, they pulled into Will's hometown. It was on the run-down side, with shops needing new paint and roads needing patches. But every person on Main Street waved at Lindsey and Will as they drove through, most of them before they realized who was driving.
A tattered sign across the road advertised a 5k for wounded warriors over Presidents' Day weekend, and a group of Girl Scouts sold cookies outside the small-town grocery store. There was an honest-to-God Curl Up and Dye hair salon sharing space with a taxidermist. An antique store housed in a bright red single-wide trailer. A shed with a homemade Deer Processing sign next to a wooden stand with Boiled Peanuts painted across the top.
"Boiled peanuts?" Lindsey said.
Will smiled at her, glowing with pride and affection for his hometown. "Culinary delight," he said. "Not in season, though. See? You hadn't come, you'd never know they existed. You're welcome, for exposing you to some culture."
He waved at another passerby stepping out of Elsie's Diner. "Good fried catfish there," he said. Then he flipped on his blinker and hung a right away from downtown. Two minutes later, he took a left on Billy Brenton Lane-"Was Mildred Street growing up," he told her with a ruddy hue coming to his cheeks. Then he stopped the truck at the curb of a dinky ranch with holly bushes under the front windows. Pansies lined the short walk to the little white house.
The house next door, equally dinky but painted a sunny yellow, had a real estate SOLD sign stuck amidst the rainbow pinwheels spinning over the brown grass. A sign in the front window advertised psychic readings, and a Winnebago was parked out front.
Will's gaze caught on the Winnebago, and he visibly relaxed, a short, relieved breath slipping between his lips.
But Lindsey shivered.
She was wrong. She shouldn't be here. She didn't deserve to meet his family, didn't deserve to interfere and weigh in on a situation that was none of her business. "Will-"
"They all know you're gone after tomorrow."
"Do you?"
She'd needed to say it for a long time, but she hadn't had the courage.
He turned in his seat to face her, his eyes the most serious she'd ever seen. "You like being a divorce lawyer? It make you happy?"
Her fists clenched instinctively. So did her jaw. "So now you want to judge my choices too."
It was an easy fight to pick.
But Will didn't blink or flinch. He just kept that steady gaze on her. "Ain't judging. Asking. I know why you do it-got some appreciation for that-but I've been watching you, Lindsey. I don't care what you do, so long as you're doing what makes you happy. Eating babies, swimming with the sharks, spinning on a stripper pole in Vegas, whatever. But that shine I saw when we were kids, that light you had when you talked about changing the world-it's not there anymore."
Even with his steadfast focus, there was a desperation in his voice, as though the cracks in her life were his failing. If he could've been this guy-this sweet, honest, determined man-without the Billy factor, she would've crawled into his lap and asked him to marry her and promised him she'd spend the rest of her life doing nothing more than making him as happy as he'd made her the last three weeks. She'd always thought she was even-tempered, but he'd weathered mood swings and a constant ticking clock and her gift-her curse-with unwavering grace and humor and dedication.