Sweet Solace (The Seattle Sound Series Book 1) by Alexa Padgett Page A
Authors: Alexa Padgett
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neck still beat at a frantic rate.
She hadn’t told me her pseudonym. I didn’t think it was because she was embarrassed by her work. Like I’d told her, as had millions of her fans, she wrote intriguing stories with deep, compelling characters. Something I strove to do with my songs.
Maybe that was the whole of our connection. We both loved words strong enough to evoke images and emotions. It didn’t encompass how much I’d wanted her all those years ago before she started creating her own art. No, I was drawn to her, the woman with sad eyes that shone bright in the moonlight.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were Lia Moore?”
She kept her gaze firmly on the floor. “I don’t know.”
“Look at me, Dahlia. Please.” When her eyes hit mine, the punch of awareness was deep. I sucked in a breath. “I keep thinking about you.”
Not what I meant to say, but there it was.
“Maybe this project is a bad idea,” she whispered. She clenched her tote’s strap so hard her knuckles were white. “I mean, I haven’t even written the ending.” Her breathing became more labored, nearly a wheeze. “I don’t know if I can do it in one more book. And getting you involved in my mess seems irresponsible.”
She thought she was irresponsible? She didn’t know half of the mess I’d caused in the last few days, let alone over the past two decades.
The elevator doors opened to a crowded lobby. Before Dahlia could object, I pushed the up button, followed immediately by the close doors button. A man in a suit hurried toward us, waving for me to open the doors. I ignored him.
“I didn’t tell you the full truth the other night either,” I said, fighting the urge to fidget. “That’s not right. Everything I told you was true. I just didn’t tell you the whole story.”
She scooted back into the far corner, her breathing escalating again. I moved close enough to touch her shoulder. I slid my fingers up to the soft skin on her neck, my thumb against her pulse. She melted into me, her body finding its place against mine. I wrapped my other arm around her, holding her there for a minute.
“Jessica and I have been separated, officially, for nearly a year. She instigated it. Had me served.” Dahlia made a noise but didn’t try to pull away. I hoped that was a good sign. “We have the date for our divorce hearing.”
“Asher.” Her voice cracked. “I didn’t know.”
“We’ve managed to keep it fairly quiet. I’m worried about how the split will affect Mason. So far he hasn’t asked any questions, probably because I’m gone so much on tour.” A huge weight lifted from my shoulders, easing the constant tightness there. “See, you need to know you weren’t part of that decision. It’s been made. Was made long before I met you the other night.”
“But you said—”
“I said we were in a bad place. We are. The divorce is going to be difficult. I want custody over Mason. Jessica knows that. She wants money, security. I’d give it to her, but she’s been counseled that she’ll do better financially if she keeps custody.” I unclenched my fists. “I’m pretty screwed there.”
Her mouth softened and her eyes finally came back up to meet mine. “I’m sorry.”
“I want to work with you on this project,” I said. “Not just because I’ll get to see you. That’s a major perk, by the way. But I’ve been transitioning into a more stable work situation. To show I’m capable—and willing—to take on Mason’s school schedule.”
She pulled back, and I let my arms fall to my sides, though I wanted her warmth against me again. Her, there, it felt right.
The door opened and two people entered, deep in discussion. Dahlia and I stood quietly at the back. We rode up another few floors before the pair stepped off, never looking back. I nearly groaned with relief. I didn’t need to deal with a fan right now. I needed to talk to Dahlia without distractions.
“I told you I always thought Doug was a
She hadn’t told me her pseudonym. I didn’t think it was because she was embarrassed by her work. Like I’d told her, as had millions of her fans, she wrote intriguing stories with deep, compelling characters. Something I strove to do with my songs.
Maybe that was the whole of our connection. We both loved words strong enough to evoke images and emotions. It didn’t encompass how much I’d wanted her all those years ago before she started creating her own art. No, I was drawn to her, the woman with sad eyes that shone bright in the moonlight.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were Lia Moore?”
She kept her gaze firmly on the floor. “I don’t know.”
“Look at me, Dahlia. Please.” When her eyes hit mine, the punch of awareness was deep. I sucked in a breath. “I keep thinking about you.”
Not what I meant to say, but there it was.
“Maybe this project is a bad idea,” she whispered. She clenched her tote’s strap so hard her knuckles were white. “I mean, I haven’t even written the ending.” Her breathing became more labored, nearly a wheeze. “I don’t know if I can do it in one more book. And getting you involved in my mess seems irresponsible.”
She thought she was irresponsible? She didn’t know half of the mess I’d caused in the last few days, let alone over the past two decades.
The elevator doors opened to a crowded lobby. Before Dahlia could object, I pushed the up button, followed immediately by the close doors button. A man in a suit hurried toward us, waving for me to open the doors. I ignored him.
“I didn’t tell you the full truth the other night either,” I said, fighting the urge to fidget. “That’s not right. Everything I told you was true. I just didn’t tell you the whole story.”
She scooted back into the far corner, her breathing escalating again. I moved close enough to touch her shoulder. I slid my fingers up to the soft skin on her neck, my thumb against her pulse. She melted into me, her body finding its place against mine. I wrapped my other arm around her, holding her there for a minute.
“Jessica and I have been separated, officially, for nearly a year. She instigated it. Had me served.” Dahlia made a noise but didn’t try to pull away. I hoped that was a good sign. “We have the date for our divorce hearing.”
“Asher.” Her voice cracked. “I didn’t know.”
“We’ve managed to keep it fairly quiet. I’m worried about how the split will affect Mason. So far he hasn’t asked any questions, probably because I’m gone so much on tour.” A huge weight lifted from my shoulders, easing the constant tightness there. “See, you need to know you weren’t part of that decision. It’s been made. Was made long before I met you the other night.”
“But you said—”
“I said we were in a bad place. We are. The divorce is going to be difficult. I want custody over Mason. Jessica knows that. She wants money, security. I’d give it to her, but she’s been counseled that she’ll do better financially if she keeps custody.” I unclenched my fists. “I’m pretty screwed there.”
Her mouth softened and her eyes finally came back up to meet mine. “I’m sorry.”
“I want to work with you on this project,” I said. “Not just because I’ll get to see you. That’s a major perk, by the way. But I’ve been transitioning into a more stable work situation. To show I’m capable—and willing—to take on Mason’s school schedule.”
She pulled back, and I let my arms fall to my sides, though I wanted her warmth against me again. Her, there, it felt right.
The door opened and two people entered, deep in discussion. Dahlia and I stood quietly at the back. We rode up another few floors before the pair stepped off, never looking back. I nearly groaned with relief. I didn’t need to deal with a fan right now. I needed to talk to Dahlia without distractions.
“I told you I always thought Doug was a
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