Leaving Me Lonely

by Lady Spezz

He could look at her all night. Her lips never closed all the way and she leaned forward as if he were the most interesting thing in the bar. She was practically in his lap she leaned so close, and he barely even realized the song had ended. He smiled small, then laughed when she flipped her hair over her shoulder to look at him. BeauxChiles. Strong T.

Beau was glad it was the last song of the night.

Her chestnut hair looked dull under the low lighting, and she had no makeup on. No lipstick, no dark stage eyeshadow and careful eyeliner, no tight pleather dress and six inch heels. He liked her better like this. All wide brown eyes and careful smile.

When had the song become about them? Maybe when she finished the chorus. Added her own verse and handed him the paper next to the hotel elevator. He had mocked her for it. But her words were better than his own. He hadn't even minded in the end, not when she looked at him like that. Like she didn't know the next phrase out of his mouth or the nod of his head in time with the beat, urging her on.

Everything with Chiles was sorta like foreplay, yet sorta like arguing. It had started as instant dislike. She had been pretty, standing next to her friend at the cotton candy vendor. He hadn't even been interested much in the friend, but she had been easier. He never had to work to get women, and he sure as hell wasn't gonna work for Miss Dallas. Chiles hadn't thought much of him at first either. She had rolled her eyes as he left with her friend. He had laughed at her when she couldn't get the words out onstage. But he felt bad. And then somewhere along the way he had started to work for her.

He knew the second she called after him in the dressing room. The abrupt change in her voice, the insecurity back as she said his name. But he had forced himself to turn, to see the expression on her face. There was no way in hell she'd leave the Tennessee Tour to play in a run-down honky-tonk with him once a week. And then after Kelly had downed the bottle of anti-depressants, he couldn't bring himself to fight for anything anymore. So he threw some boxes into the back of his Ford and left. Cut his hair and shaved his face more than once a month.

He tried not to think about her. Either of them. It was harder not to think about Chiles. He had to selectively choose radio stations, avoid CMT, couldn't date a brunette. She was Miss Next-Carrie-Underwood and her face was always plastered on the papers he got in from Nashville or Dallas. The young girls who came to the ranch to ride horses played Summer Girl loudly from their iPods, dancing the way he had seen Chiles do it onstage or when he had caught a glimpse of a music video one night on a bar tv.

He never expected her to show up unannounced. Not ten months later.

God, he could look at her all night. Her lips never closed all the way and she leaned forward as if he were the most interesting thing in the bar. She was practically in his lap she leaned so close. She smelled familiar, some floral scent he was sure was permanently implanted inside his nose, or in the gums beneath his teeth. He barely even realized the song had ended, and only when she broke eye contact with him to smile at the cheering Saturday night regulars did he snap out of it. He smiled small, then laughed when she flipped her hair over her shoulder to look at him. He grinned like a god damned idiot.

It was closing on midnight, so they said goodnight and stepped off-stage. He took the automatic step to the left to where his guitar case always sat. Chiles didn't follow him, but she didn't walk away either. She just looked at him with that open-mouthed expression. He tried not to stare at her, rubbing the sharp end of his nose as he gently placed his guitar back in its case, tucking the strap in beside it. He closed it and clasped each end.

"I need a drink," he said to Chiles, passing her, unable to keep his hand from reaching out and touching her bare arm, circling her elbow. He leaned closer, dropping his voice in her ear. "You want one?"

He didn't wait for her answer, making his way past the still-full tables as the radio came on over the speakers along the wood-panel wall. He knew she was behind him and he waited for her to sit at the bar before he sat next to her, laying one forearm on the sticky surface and the other clutching the back of his stool.

Without asking, the bartender cracked open a PBR and slid it across to him. "Thanks, Jerry," Beau nodded. "Get Stanton here a rum and coke. Lotsa ice." Jerry glanced over at Chiles, appraising her from under bushy eyebrows and a light frown. A flick of two bottles and a clink of ice, and a high ball glass was sat in front of her.

"On the house," Jerry said gruffly, walking down the counter to tend to someone else.

"Well, that was sweet," Chiles smiled, taking a dainty sip. She wiped the drop of alcohol off her lower lip with her thumb.

"What you doin here?" Beau can't stop the question, even though he knew he didn't want the answer. "Take a wrong turn on the World Tour?" He gave a smile, his lips pulling back to show his teeth. It was a light quip, one they used to dance around all the time. Quick poke here, kiss there, and a tease to end it.

Chiles shook her head at him, her eyes not leaving his. "I missed you."

His smile dropped as he concentrated on keeping her gaze. "You did?" He lifted a hand and tilted the brim of his hat back to get a better gauge of her expression.

"Yeah." She laughed softly, leaning forward, not touching him, just smiling. Beau glanced away, shifting a bit to take a drink off his bottle, looking down the length of the bar to where no one was paying attention. He looked back at her.

"C'mon, Stanton. I got better beer than this at home." He stood up, fixing the unbuttoned sleeves on his plaid shirt. "I'll see ya next Saturday, Jerry."

"See ya, Beau," Jerry replied gruffly, giving him a steady glance over his long grey beard.

"Truck's round back," Beau muttered as he dropped a hand to the small of Chiles' back, lightly pressing her in the direction of the back hall where a red Exit sign flickered pathetically. He grabbed his guitar case on the way by the stage, not removing his hand from the cotton material Chiles wore. He wasn't sure where they were going, or what they were doing. He didn't give a damn either.

He moved his hand from her back to her upper arm to guide her down the rickety stairs at the back of the badly lit alley. She didn't gush at his help like other girls would, and he let her go once they turned the corner to where he had parked four hours earlier. His guitar went in the flatbed, carefully wedged between lengths of rope and a toolbox, and Chiles climbed into the cab.

He had barely slammed the truck door shut when she leaned back over, smelling like flowers, her hair in loose waves and her hands pushing the hat off his head. Her lips tasted like coke, her tongue like rum and he dragged her closer, grabbing the leather belt holding her jeans up, his other hand pushing the hem of her flimsy blue top over her ribs.

There had been other girls in the past 10 months. None of importance. None that fit so well against him. Just easy ones that only needed a bat of the eye and a country purr to drop their skirts.

The clink of his belt as her hands dropped to fumble with the buckle brought his eyes back open. He broke the kiss, his tongue slipping from her mouth. She tried to kiss him again but he cradled her face in his large palms, keeping her steady. "Chiles," he said softly, his breath exhaling in a short chuckle. "What're you doin?"

"Showin you I missed you," she whispered back, her brown eyes unsure even with her lips swollen. "Didn't you miss me, Beau Hutton?" Her lips then closed in a well-placed pout. Someone had taught her that in the last 10 months and it made his stomach churn uncomfortably.

He sighed. "Yeah, Darlin', I missed you." Beau gently pressed her back into her own side of the bench, glancing through the window to the bar door. "But in two minutes Ol Jerry's gonna come through that door to toss the trash. Rather not get interrupted." He tugged his shirt back into place, searching for his hat on the truck floor. "Ranch is just few miles outta town. We'll get there in 10 minutes." He looked back at her, seeing if she'd chicken out. Maybe she just came by to kiss and flirt, but not actually stay. But that wasn't Chiles. She never went places she didn't want to.

She smiled and nodded, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Sure, Beau."

"Alright. C'mon." He lifted his arm up and she left her half of the cab to settle against his side. "You gotta switch gears for me now," he said, glancing in the mirror as he started the truck. Chiles reached out and took the gear shift, moving it down to second as he pressed the clutch in. The Ford sputtered and they pulled onto the empty road. His radio was broken, so they drove in silence, the bumpy rural road sending her jaw deeper into the crook of his chest.

The ranch was dark and silent. He pulled around the dirt driveway to the back of the house, parking in his usual spot next to Earle's Chevrolet. Chiles shifted as he opened the truck door and she slipped out his side. "Wrong way," he said quietly as she started toward the main house. He reached back to get his guitar while he nodded in the direction of the stables. The original homestead still stood there, smaller, only three rooms and a porch.

"Oh." Chiles looked at the outbuilding apprehensively.

"Don't worry," Beau teased, passing her, walking the familiar path along the fence. "Got runnin water and everything."

"Beau, wait!" Chiles laughed as he left her standing by the front of the truck. "I can't see! It's dark as hell out here-" She squeaked as she stumbled to find her footing and he waited patiently until she reached him. He took her hand with his free one, leading her the rest of the way across the worn grass.

"Three steps here," he said, pausing by the foot of the porch.

"Well, I can see those," Chiles muttered, squinting in the dark. Beau laughed at her, unable to help himself as he swung open the screen door, stepping inside, pulling her with him. He dropped his guitar case in its place by the door, pushing his weight forward on Chiles to pin her back against the wall. One hand went to her hip as the other tipped the brim of his hat back.

"You still want that drink?" he asked, unable to keep the purr out of his voice. It was something he used at last-call, to close a deal, or distract a girl away from her friends. He had used it with Chiles before. It had landed her in his bed more than once, but it wasn't enough to entice her to California. Not at first. He swallowed back things he never wanted to think about.

"Okay," she whispered after a brief second. His eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, but he could see the outline of her face, the glisten in her eyes, the flash of white teeth as her lips opened, waiting. He took the last step forward, his knee dragging between her legs as he used both hands to lift her hips up onto his, her ankles linking around his thighs. He heard his hat fall off his head as Chiles wrapped her arms around his neck. The kiss was harsher than the last and he knew immediately where it was headed. Not that he hadn't back at the bar.

Chiles was digging her nails into the back of his neck as he felt along the wall, trying to find the doorway to the second room where he slept. He nearly fell through it, stubbing the toe of his boot on the box of books that had been sitting there for 10 months. The room always smelled dusty, like dirt and grass and sweat. He hadn't cared before, but then he was lying Chiles down on bedsheets that hadn't been washed in a month.

Her hands were back at his belt, pulling the buckle loose and he pulled his mouth from hers to drag his shirt down his arms. He scrambled back to kick his boots off, dropping his jeans and boxer shorts at the same time, hooking his thumb in the hem of his undershirt to flick it over his head.

Chiles had managed to remove her blue top, and he chuckled as he reached down to help her out of her tight jeans, her boots falling off her feet as he pulled the denim off her calves. She wore matching bra and panties, white lace that he could see even in the blackness of the room.

She felt like he remembered. Pale skin and warm thighs pressed around him, long fingernails in his hair and then his ribs. Her lips stayed open, and her eyes stayed shut, her shallow breathing loud in his ears as he buried his mouth in her shoulder. Her heels dug into the small of his back and he shifted his weight, sliding a hand up the underside of her thigh and pushing it outward, letting her knee fall down to the bed. He kept it there with the width of his palm, his fingers pulling at the flesh as she turned her head to kiss him again.

They lay in silence, although Beau was sure she could still hear the pounding of his heart. The November air in northern California was warm, but it only took one shiver for him to drag his old patch quilt over her, wrapping her up in it tight. He slipped his arm around her waist and settled behind her, his nose buried in the back of her hair. He meant to wait until she fell asleep, but he gave in to it first.

---

Sunday was his one day off, but he still woke up in the darkness around 430. He heard the screen door bang on the main house as Earle left to tend to the cattle herd in the east field. His two border collies came up onto the outbuilding porch, sniffing at the door and one of them offering a whine before Earle's whistle drew them back to the field.

He opened one eye, glancing over to where Chiles had rolled over in her sleep, the side of her face smashed against his chest, the quilt he had wrapped her in pushed down to her waist. Her hands were tucked against her chest, hiding her breasts. He exhaled, reaching up the hand not trapped under her shoulder to scrub at his jaw. Slowly, he pulled his arm free and got out of the bed. He felt around for his jeans, grabbing his belt buckle to keep it from clinking as he pulled them up his legs. He dug through his pockets, finding a half-crumpled cigarette to stick between his lips. His Zippo was in his breast pocket, wherever his shirt was. Instead, he walked back out to the kitchen and lit it with a box of matches from the cupboard.

The sky was still clouded, and there was no moon to light the fields. He paused by the screen door to listen. There was the creak of a cattle gate somewhere. He blew the tobacco smoke out his nostrils. The air was so still he could hear the warning blow of a train, even 20 miles away. It always reminded him of Kelly, that tragedy and sadness she was never too good at hiding. He didn't even know how it got so out of hand, though he had already spent countless hours torturing himself over it. She was just sitting on the back deck of the rehab center, looking lost and strumming a guitar. It had just started as a way to pass the time. They'd play and laugh and life would seem a little better. But then one day she kissed him and the next he was sleeping with her. It had been flattering, and he had loved her. Loved her like a son and a friend, even though he wanted to love her like James used to.

She reminded him of his own mother. Tragic and drunk.

He dropped his smoked cigarette in the sink and headed to the bathroom to take a piss and wash his face. He stepped on his discarded 10-gallon on his way back to the bedroom, and quickly snatched it up and bent it back into shape. He hung it off the doorknob and silently removed his jeans again. Chiles was still how he left her, curled up on his side of the bed, hair falling over her face.

It was harder to get back into bed without disturbing her. She stirred as he pulled the quilt up, covering them both. He felt her eyelashes flicker against his cheek and her arm came up to bring him closer. "Hey," she whispered.

"Hey," Beau murmured. "Sorry." He kissed her mouth briefly as his palm came up to the crook of her shoulder and neck. There was a light rash there; even his callused fingertips could feel the beard-burn the stubble on his face had left.

"Mornin already?" Chiles asked quietly.

"Just for the crows and the cattle," Beau chuckled, smoothing the back of his hand down her spine. She kissed him again and he could taste the sleep on her tongue. She hooked her top leg over his, and angled her hips against him. It just took a slight adjustment and then her fingers tightened around his bicep, her mouth sighing open. He felt the groan in his chest before he could stop it. She was still relaxed from earlier, and they fit together easily.

"Beau…" His name was hot against his cheek as he sucked on the pulse in her throat. He slipped his hand from her thigh to sneak between them, finding that part of her body that made her buck into him, earning a soft gasp and the feeling of her nails in the inside of his arm. The bed creaked softly with their movement.

"That good?" he asked quietly against her lips, kissing her lightly, but keeping his eyes open to check her reaction. Her eyes were shut tightly, and he watched her teeth clamp down on her lower lip, not answering him. He didn't need an answer.

When she finally opened her eyes, he smoothed the hair off her forehead, giving her a kiss before dropping to his back, wiping the sweat off his face with the back of his forearm. The bed shifted and she stepped out, hair trailing down over her shoulders. She padded softly across the hardwood and disappeared down the hall. He heard the toilet flush and the sink run. When she came back, she leaned over to him. "Beau?"

"Hh?" he grunted, the cigarette and the sex catching up to his three hours of sleep.

"You got any food?"

They ate saltines with peanut butter. Beau had to turn on the bathroom light to see the kitchen and Chiles had sat unabashedly naked next to him on the bed, laughing as she brushed the cracker crumbs out of her hair. He smoked another cigarette or two as she fell back asleep. Most girls hated him smoking in bed. Kelly didn't like to taste the cigarette on his mouth, but Chiles never seemed to mind much.

---

It was almost noon by the time Chiles pulled herself from his bed and showered. He had tried his best to tidy up the rest of the outbuilding while she slept, but all he could bring himself to do was wash his coffee cup and sweep the layers of dust off the hardwood floor.

The ocean air always destroyed his carefully tuned guitar strings, so he spent a couple hours each day fixing them and working through the songs and lyrics he mulled over in his head while walking the cows or cleaning the stables. Lucky, the older dog, lay at his boots as he sat back in the wicker porch chair.

Earle had left for town already, his Chevrolet gone from the driveway. The 'friend of a friend' was really his father's uncle, pushing 70, and who couldn't afford to pay anything more than room and board. It was peaceful work, but only half-satisfying.

"Sounds pretty," Chiles said suddenly, her face appearing in the screen door. Beau smiled at her, lifting a hand to push the brim of his hat out of his eyes.

"Afternoon," he rumbled, teasing as she came onto the porch wearing the same clothes as last night.

She raised her eyebrows, stepping over the dog to slide into his lap, balancing herself on his knee as she saddled up next to his guitar. "Yeah, late night last night," she laughed.

Beau grinned wide. "Some asshole causin you trouble?"

"Somethin like that." She leaned in and kissed him, the light wind blowing the smell of her hair around him. He opened his eyes briefly to see hers open a second later. She left her mouth on his as she spoke softly. "I need you to drive me back to town."

He felt his shoulders tighten, his lips closing under hers as he pulled back, standing up so quickly Chiles basically fell right out of his lap. She threw out a hand for the wall, her fingers hitting old shingles as she took a step away. "I should've known," he muttered, handling his guitar by its neck as the abrupt sound of his boots hitting the porch scared Lucky down the steps.

"Beau!" Chiles protested, trying to look shocked, but to him she just looked guilty.

"You're leavin." He couldn't keep the anger out of his voice as he stomped back into the outbuilding, the slam of the door rattling the windows on the front wall. He dropped his guitar into its case before his grip tore it in two. The door banged again as Chiles followed him inside, and he ignored her by entering the second room, the crumpled pillows and stained sheets still on the bed. He was a god damn chump.

"Of course I'm leavin!" she protested, her brown eyes wide, whisps of her damp hair flying out of its braid. "I don't got any of my things here! Not even a change of clothes!"

Beau glanced up at her from where he was pulling a plaid shirt on over his undershirt. He was fully intending to walk into the fields with Lucky and leave Chiles to get her own spoiled ass back to town. But there was something still in her gaze. Insecurity. "What the hell you talkin bout?" he asked gruffly, flicking his shirt violently to turn the collar down.

Chiles was staring at him, her eyes strangely glossy. She wrapped her arms around her chest, as if she was trying to keep herself together. His mouth went dry. He couldn't know what had happened in 10 months, but he'd seen too much not to have some idea. He sighed, his shoulders slouching as he dropped his hands from the sides of his shirt. She spoke before he did. "I woke up in Nashville yesterday," she said quietly, her voice trembling, hands dropping to clasp together. "I woke up, and got a cab to the airport. One-way ticket to San Francisco. And here I am." She didn't smile at him.

Beau rubbed his palm over his jaw. "How'd you get up here then?"

"Rented a car."

He blinked at her. "Didn't know you could drive."

She rolled her eyes at him. "I'm not four. Of course I can drive." There was a silence before she crossed the threshold into the bedroom. "All my stuff is still in Nashville-"

"What you need stuff for?" Beau interrupted, some of the tension lifting from his shoulders, but still a little wary as she wrapped her arms around his waist and dropped her cheek onto his chest. He raised a hand and placed his palm on the back of her neck, gently kneading his fingers into the soft skin at the nape of her hair. He drew his hands down the backs of her arms, circling her elbows.

She sighed into his shirt. "I need my clothes-"

"You can get new clothes."

"And my music-"

"We can make new music." And he felt himself grin despite himself, his cheeks pulling back as Chiles looked up at him in exasperation. Her mouth opened in a half-smile, her lips still a little puffy from the night before.

"I should tell James in person."

The smile fell off his face. "That's what phones are for." He practically spit the words out.

"Beau." She reprimanded him with a look his Gran used to make when she found him catching frogs by the creek. He swallowed, not removing his hands from where he had placed them on her slim arms, his fingers easily wrapped all the way around. "I'm goin back to Nashville," she continued firmly, softly, tightening her arms around him, her hands clutching on the back of his belt. "And then I'm comin back here."

"Chiles…" He sighed, seeing the truth in her large eyes. But he knew her too well. It just took a second for her to change her mind. He'd seen it countless times before.

"Come with me," she whispered and he felt all the blood drop past his stomach. "Just for a few days."

"I can't leave." It was an automatic response. He had done well to avoid Tennessee for 10 months, but all he needed was a trigger, and that resolve would be gone. And that trigger had her arms wrapped around him. Those big eyes of hers were awfully distracting. "I gotta go to an auction with Earle on Tuesday. We gotta feed shipment in on Wednesday…" He faded off, knowing that he had already given in. It was hard to stay mad at her with her chest pressed against him, and that happy, hopeful look on her face.

---

Earle gave him the week.

He was all too happy to get rid of him with the pretty young girl that had showed up the night before. Jed, one of the neighbour's teenage kids, would get some extra spending money to help him with the feed shipment. He even dropped them back off in town to reclaim Chiles' abandoned rental car to drive down to San Francisco. Beau had driven the six hour drive while she slept in the passenger's seat, wrapped in his brown canvas jacket.

The cost of the flight had almost erased his pitiful savings. Chiles had wanted to pay for it, but he had set his mouth in a grim line and she immediately stopped offering. She was recognized by the flight attendant at the gate, and their coach tickets were suddenly exchanged for first class. He had raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything as Chiles continued her southern girl routine, laughing and smiling.

The red-eye was full, but quiet. He let Chiles have the window seat and she slept with her legs curled up beneath her, her face smashed against the airplane window, using her sweater as a pillow instead of the one provided. At the end of the night, when she got up to use the bathroom, she came back and leaned against him, watching him turn the pages in some bad murder-mystery he picked up in the SFO duty-free. He glanced down at her, seeing her eyelashes flicker as she read the words between his hands.

"Chiles." His voice cracked a bit with tiredness when he spoke as quietly as his baritone could get.

"Hm."

"How'd you know where I was?"

"Oh, I asked the guys."

It took a second for him to realize she meant his band. Though, they had become her band too, after everything. He tried to keep the surprise out of his voice, lifting his chin up a little so he wouldn't get her hair in his mouth. "You talk to them?"

"I see them around."

They went silent and he looked across the aisle where two businessmen sat staring down at silver computers. Beau hadn't really kept in touch. Life was busy, and he had limited internet access, unreliable phone service. He knew they were touring, he just didn't know it was with Chiles. He felt guilty about it.

He wasn't prepared for the madness that greeted them at the Nashville airport. Apparently the city loved country-pop just as much as California. Chiles still smiled all the way through it, though he could see the exhaustion hidden beneath her camera niceties. He kept his arm around her, the hat on his head dipped low across his eyes as he lead her through the arrivals to catch a cab. The cold inland air hit him with relief when they stepped outside and he almost hated to get into the backseat of the vehicle.

They had no luggage and Chiles only carried a brown leather saddle bag. He had a duffle bag that had seen better days, lightly filled with spare shirts and toiletries. The cab driver seemed surprised at their light load. They looked at each other expectantly as he waited for their instruction. Beau had to laugh at Chiles. "What you lookin at me for? I don't live here no more."

Her face fell a little. "You don't got anywhere we could go?"

"Chiles." He still laughed at her concern. "We came for your stuff. Quit pussy-footin around."

She sighed, giving the driver an address downtown, and they pulled abruptly away from the curb. He watched the city come closer into view, his heart suddenly pounding a little further into his throat. When he left, he swore he would never be back. And now that he was back, he didn't wanna leave.

They were dropped off in Germantown, next to a row of condo apartments. Chiles was blushing, fumbling with her keys as she lead him up the stairwell to a 1-bedroom on the fourth floor. Evidence of her was all over the house. There was a stand-up piano instead of a television, a line of decorative tea cups in the glass cupboards, rows of albums in the bookcase with a record player. The tiled bathroom was littered with makeup and hair accessories. Clothes were hung over backs of chairs and lines of shoes cluttered the entranceway.

"Now, how the hell are we gonna get all this stuff to California?" he asked, grinning, trying to break some of Chiles' embarrassment. She was hurrying around, collecting all the clothes she hadn't bothered to hang up or put away. He leaned one arm on the kitchen counter as she pulled a discarded bra off a chair. "C'mon now, Stanton, I've seen you in less than that pretty thing. Don't squirrel out on me now." He shrugged out of his canvas jacket, leaving it on the counter.

She threw him a half-hearted glare, her face still red. When she didn't stop, he shrugged his shoulders, taking his hat off as he walked past her to her bedroom. Her bedclothes were wrinkled, but half-made and he kicked his boots off at the foot of the frame, dropping his hat over them and pulling off his clothes. Chiles stopped in the doorway, arms full of clothes, to watch him.

"What are you doin?" she asked in confusion, dropping her armload in a basket next to her wardrobe.

"I'm takin my clothes off, what's it look like?" he grinned, letting his jeans drop to the floor. "Now, not like that, Chiles. Don't go blushin anymore on me."

She laughed, raising a hand to her forehead as she watched him pull his undershirt off. "I am a little tired."

"See? C'mon to bed. We'll sort it all out later." He pulled the blankets back and climbed in. Chiles gave him a shy smile as she started undressing and even though he was fighting to stay awake, his eyes drooped closed before she finished.

---

The late afternoon sun poured into Chiles' bedroom and Beau woke wrapped tightly in the heavy white blankets. He looked over across the pillows to where she lay, her shock of dark hair covering most of her face. He blinked, lifting a slow hand to wipe the sleep from his eyes as he wondered what woke him. The bedroom door was slightly ajar, but he could see nothing different from the mess they had found it in that morning.

He pushed himself forward, closing the gap that had opened between them as they slept. She was on her back, one of her arms thrown across the pillow and the other tucked under the blanket. Her mouth had dropped open, but she was silent as he buried his face in her neck, wrapping his arm around her thighs as he dropped back into a light doze. Her fingernails dragged through the back of his hair, down his neck and he made a sound like a contented dog. The rush of her quiet laugh ruffled his bangs.

His eyes snapped open a few minutes later as the smell of coffee hit him. Lifting his head to peer again out the sliver of open doorway, he saw Chiles had drifted back to sleep. The living room was still silent. He pulled his arms back, pressing his chest up as he gave the side of her breast a passing kiss. She didn't stir and he slipped out of the bed, his feet cracking on the carpeted floor. The jeans that he had left in a heap were now across the room hung over the back of a chair. So he crept across the room wearing only his boxer shorts. He paused next to the open door, holding his breath.

James Canter sat at the counter, drinking from a coffee mug that said I 3 Texas in big red letters.

"You breakin into other people's houses, or just this one?" Beau asked sharply, his voice rumbling from sleep, pulling the bedroom door shut after him. James looked up from a thin electronic tablet perched on the granite, fixing him with an unsurprised look.

"Got another notch in the ol bedpost, huh Hoss?" he replied, a bit of biting humour to his tone, his calculated gaze flickering to Beau's obvious state of undress. He felt his jaw clench, maybe to the truth in the older man's words. What had begun as dislike for one another had grown into something akin to hatred. Too much had happened that they couldn't ever recover from. Beau suddenly wanted to yell.

"What you doin here, James?" he asked instead.

"Chiles' PR girl sent this to me an hour ago." James looked down at the tablet, tapping something on the screen. Beau took a cautious step forward to squint down at the picture in question. He saw his own hat before anything else, his face hidden, but his arm fully visible around Chiles' shoulder. She was smiling softly in the opposite direction of the camera, her eyes tired from the flight. His quick gaze found his own name on the tabloid webpage heading.

"Who gives a shit?" Beau sighed, a cigarette craving starting in the back of his mouth.

James gave him another cold staredown. "Well, the sound engineers, producers, and label reps she left in the dust this weekend… for a start. That's twenty thousand dollars in lost studio time. You got that kinda extra cash lyin round?"

Beau snorted in disbelief. He took a step to the fridge, then one back in a short pace as he drew a hand through his mussed hair. "You are unbelievable."

"You watch your tone, Kid."

Beau could taste blood along the side of his mouth and he realized that he had ground his teeth a little too hard. "You string her out, you're gonna have another dead girl on your hands." He knew it was too far before he even said the words, but that didn't erase the truth in them. He was breathing more heavily than he wanted to, his chest strangely tight. The last time the two of them had a conversation was when he confessed to the truth of his and Kelly's relationship. James had socked him with a solid right; he had spit out his molar into the hotel sink later. He still had all that anger bouncing around inside him over what had happened. He had warned James. A million times.

Kelly had been foaming at the mouth when he found her.

James stood, picking up the tablet. He didn't respond to the accusation, but his steps were stiff as his leather shoes clicked loudly on the hardwood. Beau watched him leave, all the unsaid words and spite still on the edge of his tongue. James glanced back over his shoulder at him as he pulled the door open. "I'm not the only common denominator here, Beau."

The door shut and Beau reached for his jacket still lying on the counter. He fumbled in the inside pocket, finding a half-empty pack of Marlboros. He lit one over the sink and stood there, chain-smoking his way through three cigarettes before his hands stopped shaking.

Chiles was still asleep so he washed up and dressed in his usual denim and plaid. 10 months of living off cigarettes and beer, combined with farm labour six days a week, had left all his clothes a little looser, so he had to tighten his belt one more notch. He was pulling his socks on when Chiles lifted her head from the pillow.

"Beau?" She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm. "What time's it?"

"5:05." He glanced at the digital alarm clock sitting on the nightside table. "Need anything? I'm headin out for a bit."

"What?" She blinked in confusion, pushing herself up onto her hands. The blankets fell to her waist and he had to smile at the sight of her. The sleep had tousled her hair, and the warmth had left a pink flush down the center of her body. "Where?"

Beau grinned, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull his boots on. "Where'm I goin? Pick up some things. Don't worry, Chiles, I'm comin back." He liked teasing her, and was rewarded with her smile. "Alright then." He leaned over and gave her a chaste kiss, tickling the back of her neck with his fingers. He pulled back a fraction to watch her eyes drift back open. "You want something?"

"Yeah." Her hands gripped the collar of his shirt, and it wasn't too hard to tell what she meant. Her mouth opened again and he felt the tug beneath his stomach as he kissed her once more. Her arms wound tightly around his neck as she lifted herself up, pressing herself against the front of his clothes. He dragged his palms over her bare skin, running his knuckles down the ridge of her spine before dropping her onto her back.

There were little lines criss-crossing her chest where the sheets had imprinted on her. She squirmed under him, her body bowing as his mouth dropped from her breast to her ribs, his breath leaving a visible trail. Her stomach shook and her thighs closed on either side of his head as he settled between them.

It was still a bit strange, to be so intimate with her. She had been a thorn in his side for a long time before that night at The Stage. He had thought of her as nothing but a pain in the ass. She was still a pain in the ass, but he knew her now. He knew the way she looped her handwriting, how her hair curled all soft after a show, how she cleaned her earrings every night and put them in a little silk bag, how trusting her gaze was when she doted on the next lyric out of his mouth. And god damn, she felt good.

As she lay there after, he pushed himself back onto his feet, fixing the buttons on his shirt that had been pulled loose, and readjusting himself in his jeans, grimacing a little. "I swear I'm leavin now," he chuckled, smoothing his hair back before dropping his hat on his head.

Chiles lifted herself onto her elbows. "Can you get me a strawberry milkshake on your way back?"

He laughed, checking his pockets for his wallet. "Alright. Anythin else?"

"No." She flopped back down. "That's it."

The cab ride out to the rural areas east of the city put another dent in his wallet. As he stepped out of the car onto the gravel driveway, the mutt chained to the ground at the next trailer over barked at him. He made his way across the dying autumn grass, the hill that rose up behind the aging trailer dotted in golds and green. He took the front steps quietly and cupped his hands around his eyes as he leaned in to peer through the storm door.

His mother was curled up on the old brown couch along the wall, a grey wool blanket covering her. She looked small and harmless. He knew better. She had made it four months in rehab before his tour money ran out, and it hadn't been enough. An empty bottle of whiskey lay on the floor next to her.

Beau quietly stepped into the trailer, dropping an envelope on the table. It wasn't much, only a little over a hundred bucks, but he knew she'd spend at least half on her habit. If his stepfather found it first, then he could maybe buy her a real meal for once. He didn't linger, quietly shutting the door again and crunching across the hardened grass to where an old green Ford sat rusting. She had asked him a while ago if it even ran; he had lied and said no. Otherwise, she would've sold it to the lowest bidder, but instead she never gave it a second thought. Not if she couldn't sell it or drink it.

It took a few minutes with his head in the engine to get it to start, but it eventually sputtered back to life. He left the place he grew up without a glance back.

---

He lit another cigarette as he walked up the stairwell. He had no keys to the building, so he had waited a few minutes until somebody else came out and he quickly snuck in the shutting door. The woman and her two kids didn't even notice. He had bought Chiles' milkshake on the outskirts of town when he stopped to get gas. The woman at the diner laughed when he ordered it, and gave him an extra large for the price of a small. He drank one half waiting in traffic, and the other half was making his palm cold as he walked down the hall.

He paused by the door with 402 written on it in gold letters. He stubbed his cigarette out on the doorframe, then slipped the butt into his pocket. He raised his hand to knock, but somebody banged out a frustrated chord on the piano and he stopped to listen for a minute. A tune followed in the key of E, repeating notes as better ones were found. He couldn't help but chuckle lightly, finally dropping his knuckle to the door.

Soft footsteps immediately pattered across the inside floor and there was a pause until it opened. Chiles was dressed in a knee-length blue dress, fastened with a belt around her waist. Beau grinned at her as she stepped back to let him in, leaning on the door as she smiled back. "Well, don't you look real pretty," he said, tipping his hat back with his knuckles, Chiles closing the door again. "Brought you something." He offered the styrofoam cup and she laughed at him, taking it from him with both hands.

"Thank you." She took a tentative sip, then a larger one, not even commenting that half of the shake was already gone. He shrugged out of his jacket, leaving it hanging off a hook behind the front door. He hung his hat next to it.

"What you writin?" he asked as he followed her over to the piano. She sat down on one end of the long stool, so he sat on the other. She wedged the milkshake cup between her thighs.

"Just something I've been workin on." She raised dark eyes to his, her gaze flickering uncertainly. "You wanna hear it?"

He nodded once, slow, not taking his eyes from her. The diamond earrings she only took off to shower or sleep sparkled against her dark hair. It was a relief to have her back, such a relief he hadn't even realized he had fallen so hard. Her fingers fumbled with the keys, but the tune was clear. And it wasn't half bad either.

"You got lyrics to go with that?" Beau asked her when her hands fell flat against the keys, going silent.

"Not yet." She leaned her shoulder against his and he lifted a hand to brush some of the stray hairs off the back of her neck. She sighed loudly. "I'm starved. You wanna go eat something?"

He chuckled. "I just ate a few hours ago, Darlin'." He followed it up with a wide grin, enjoying the instant blush across her throat.

She gasped at his crudeness. "Beau!" She lightly slapped his arm with the back of her hand. "Stop it!" She stood, picking up a slim silver phone off the piano's sheet ridge. It had been silently lighting up every few minutes, but he couldn't read the screen. "C'mon." She found her sheep-trimmed jacket in the closet by the front door and shrugged it on. He smiled as he watched her check her reflection in the door mirror, lightly smoothing the soft curls in her hair. She glanced over at him, eyebrows raised. "I will leave without you," she said pointedly, but unable to stop the smile that followed. She was never too good at bluffing.

"Alright," Beau replied, getting to his feet as Chiles sucked on the milkshake straw, draining the rest of it. He dragged his coat back on, dropping his hat on his head as she vanished out the door infront of him. He took a quick step to catch up and they headed for the stairwell. Her hand slipped through his elbow in a strangely natural gesture, like she had hung off his arm before, when in fact she never had.

She brought him to a crowded restaurant, where he ate more food than he had in the past week, and then managed to drag him down to South Broad after. He laughed, scuffing his heels as she pulled at his hand. Even on a Monday night, the bars were crowded, various forms of country music blaring out of most doors. The one she picked had a line-up out around the block, but the burly tattooed guy manning the front took one look at her and smiled.

"Hey, Billy," she said softly.

"Evenin, Miss Stanton," he replied, letting her pass, jumping the entire line. Beau nodded silently to the man, who give him a calculated once-over in return, as Chiles pulled him in after her. He tugged his hand back, suddenly a bit embarrassed, but she didn't even notice the retreat, waving to somebody across the loud room. He followed her gaze.

"Aw, shit." He couldn't even hear himself talk over the resonator solo happening onstage. Chiles glanced back at him as she started making her way through the crowd. A few people recognized her. Some drunk guy asked for a high-five, which she politely gave, laughing at his excited whoop as they passed. Beau really wanted a cigarette. And a drink.

His former bandmates looked the same, though Skylar had chopped most of his blonde afro off. Cory was grinning beneath his close-trim beard as he fondly ruffled Chiles' hair, earning himself an annoyed shriek from her. Beau had to laugh, but then he was infront of them too and the laugh died in his throat. He hadn't seen them since the commotion in Dallas, where he had left the hospital and the tour and hitchhiked back to Nashville.

There was a break in the music and he exhaled, giving a tentative smile. "Well, look who's back in town," Skylar laughed. "Knew you couldn't stay away for long."

"Didn't have a whole lotta choice in the matter," Beau replied, glancing at Chiles, who gave him a playful nudge with her elbow.

"James was pissed when she didn't show up Saturday at the studio," Cory said, looking at him. He was one of Beau's oldest friends, and the only bandmate that had stuck around from start to finish. He could cut through all his bullshit with one glance. "Hey, man," he added.

"Hey." Beau shifted. Then he grinned. "Get your fuckin ass over here," he said after a beat, reaching out and giving his friend a rough hug. "How you been?" He felt the slap on his shoulder and they pulled back. He repeated the same gesture with Skylar, although it rang a little shallow. Chiles had turned to talk to a couple young girls who were laughing nervously, asking for autographs. Beau sighed at them, feeling his heart tighten a bit, knowing he was asking her to give up everything she had worked for for 20 years. Asking her again.

But she was the one who showed up on his doorstep.

"We're up next," Cory said, thumbing his hand at the stage. "Just fillin in for some guys who got a little too drunk down at the Bluebird last night." He chuckled. "You need a cigarette?"

Beau sighed again. "Yeah." He reached over to where Chiles had her back to him, placing his palm on the curve of her hip. He leaned in to speak quietly, quickly into her ear. The brim of his hat grazed the top of her hair. "Be back in a bit."

She lifted her head to nod and he stepped back to follow the guys to the back wall and down out the rear door. The stoop was empty and Cory pulled a home-rolled out of his wallet that wasn't exactly tobacco. "Gotta get through this shit-show," he grinned, placing the joint in his mouth. Beau lit a cigarette, but didn't turn down the offer when the weed was handed to him. He took a couple long hits before chasing it with another drag, passing the rest of the joint to Skylar.

"She's leavin, isn't she?" Skylar asked as he flicked the stub into a puddle. He exhaled the thick grey smoke through his teeth.

Beau leaned his shoulders against the cold brick wall, looking at the black sky. There were no stars, not this far downtown. "That's the plan. Not sure she'll follow through." He spoke around the cigarette in his teeth, offering the last of his Marlboro pack to the other two, who emptied it. He scrubbed at his jaw as they chuckled about some inside joke he didn't get.

"She sleep with James?" he asked abruptly, finally voicing a suspicion that he had since that first time he saw them together in Houston, not-so-subtly flirting in the dressing room. There was a resounding silence.

"Man, you should-" Skylar cut off as Beau raised his gaze to him.

"Just fuckin tell me."

"Canter's a wreck," Cory interrupted. "He should've quit after Kelly died. Runnin around, yellin at everybody. That's all he does now."

Beau frowned, blowing smoke into the cold air, then dropping the cigarette to angrily stamp it out with the heel of his boot. "That doesn't answer my question."

"That girl's easy to read," Skylar said, pointing at Beau with what was left of his cigarette. "She's miserable here."

Beau snorted. "No she's not."

Cory opened the door, stepping back inside the bar. "Then why'd she leave?" He raised his eyebrows before disappearing. Skylar followed him and Beau huffed for a second before taking up the rear. The other two took a left backstage and he continued through to the crowd, where he made his way to the bar and ordered a shot of Jack's and a PBR. He threw the shot back, dropping one of his last ten dollar bills on the counter, and leaned his elbows against the edge as he thumbed the condensation off the neck of the beer bottle. He turned around to watch the stage, hoisting himself up onto one of the leather stools.

He scanned the crowd for Chiles, but he couldn't see her. The new band was starting to set up onstage, some alternative bluegrass group by the look of them. Skylar was resetting the drumkit. They were good, and sounded tight even with the last minute replacements. Beau finished his PBR and asked the bartender for another shot.

"You Beau Hutton?" the bartender asked as he set two short glasses down infront of him.

"Yeah." Beau glanced up at him. He was young, mid-20s, with a beard and glasses. He didn't recognize the guy.

"Big fan. On the house." And he poured two more shots in front of him.

"Thanks." Beau threw them both back without ceremony. The alcohol mixed with the weed made his voice rumble deeper than usual. He looked around for Chiles again as the band jammed off-set on stage. But she was suddenly next to him, and he grinned a bit sloppily at her as she took a seat.

"Hey, Beau."

"Stanton. You want a drink?"

She smiled, leaning in. "Yes, please." She gave him a ghost of a kiss, hardly even touching his mouth with her own. But it was enough for her to catch a whiff of his breath. "Have you been smoking…?" Her gaze flickered down to her hands in embarrassment. When she looked up, her eyes were so dark they were almost black.

He chuckled at her blushing cheeks. "I just downed three shots of Jack and that's what you bust me on?" He grinned wide, running his palm over her forearm, suddenly wishing they were in a darker corner and not dead-center at the bar. There was a clink of glass on the counter as a rum and coke she never ordered was set next to her. The bartender nodded at her.

"Good to see you, Miss. Stanton. On the house."

"Thanks, Clay." Chiles smiled at him as she took a sip. Beau gave the bartender another hard look, but he had already moved on to a group of cowboys at the other end of the bar. He dropped his hand down to Chiles' waist, giving her a small tug against him, her thighs bumping up against his knees. She raised a hand to pick at the buttons on his shirt, her fingers dusting the skin above his undershirt. She pulled the length of his silver chain out from under the white cotton, playing with it as she brought her glass to her lips again.

"The boys are up." He nodded to the stage before standing, forcing her back a few steps. She bumped into a kid wearing a backwards baseball cap, who gave her an annoyed sneer as she stammered an apology in response. Beau tightened his fingers and steered her away from the bar, leading her through the crowd. He reached a hand up to keep his hat on his head as people jostled around them, the music vibrating the floor.

They made it to the right of the stage, where the crowd was a little thinner and where they had a perfect sightline of Cory and the frontman Beau didn't recognize. Chiles was already bouncing infront of him to the thumping music, the hand holding her drink held out to the side just in case the crowd surged into them. When it did, a slosh of rum and coke ended up on the sticky barroom floor and the side of his boot. He barely noticed. The static in the air made the back of her hair stick to his open shirt and she let out a soft whoop as the song ended, raising her empty glass with the rest of the crowd. She turned as the band started another song, a bit of a slower one, but the bass still pounding through his body.

Chiles smiled, that smile that had made him jump out of Kelly's arms, and fall almost immediately into hers. He had a feeling that if Chiles knew he had slept with Kelly barely 15 minutes before she first knocked on his door in that Houston hotel, she wouldn't have let him in when he knocked on hers later. The crew knew it, his band knew it, even James knew it, though he liked to deny it. How could Chiles not. Kelly's drunken backseat confessions had left little room for interpretation.

"You're not havin fun, are you?" she asked, her voice barely loud enough for him to hear. Her arms wound around his neck and he placed his hands on her hips, pressing her stomach forward into the belt on his jeans.

"I'm here with you, and that's good with me." He gave her a short grin, almost in embarrassment, ducking his head so his hat shadowed his eyes. He had never been much of a PDA fan before, but after 10 months, he couldn't quite keep his hands off her. Her body swung lightly as she laughed at him, taking his hand with her free one and pulling him into a very small dance. The crowd still pressed around them, and Chiles smelled like flowers and sugar and alcohol. Her fingers stroked the back of his neck as they turned in their small circle, barely even moving at all. Her gaze was lazy and warm and never left his. He knew what he was going to say even before he noticed the group of college girls eyeing them, Chiles' name on their mouths.

"C'mon." He shifted his weight to tug her back through the crowd. The girls looked like they were gonna pounce, one of them rooting through her purse for a pen and something to autograph. "Let's get outta here."

---

Chiles' apartment had become comically empty. Cardboard boxes were piled into two corners: a small pile for keeping, and a large pile for giving away. Beau dropped another box into the back of the green Ford, the sweat sticking his shirt against his back. The nape of his hair was damp and cold, but he still had one more flight to take to grab the last box full of clothes. Chiles was out, having left the apartment before he had even woken up, but writing a note on a napkin and posting it to the fridge.

Be back later.

He didn't know what that meant, and it bothered him. They had spent all of Tuesday and Wednesday sorting through her things, although it had been easy to get distracted. The floor, the bed, the bathtub, the kitchen counter, the entryway wall. But they still never had a real conversation about what was about to happen. Beau wasn't even sure they needed to.

When he dropped the boxes off at Goodwill, he found an old Gibson Rosewood guitar thrown in the back of the musical instruments corner. It had no strings and was pretty scratched up, but the guitar usually retailed for over two grand. The pink sticker stuck to its body said $19.99.

Beau's wallet was officially empty. He had to rummage through the Ford's glove compartment to find a couple bucks to buy new guitar strings. He sat in his truck next to Guitar Center and smoked half a pack of Marlboros as he restrung it. He had no idea where he was going to come up with the cash to fly back to San Francisco. His life was becoming complicated. Just a week before, his biggest problem was the coyotes poaching some of Earle's baby calves. Now he was back in Nashville, a place he had intended to swear off for the rest of his life, with no band, no music, and no money. Funnily enough, it wasn't so bad. Not with Chiles.

He didn't have to sneak into her apartment building again. She had given him a spare key and he carried the Gibson up the stairs carefully. He heard James' voice before he opened the door. Both of them looked up when he entered. Chiles was sitting on the piano bench, her hair pulled back in fresh curls, and James sat in the high-backed chair opposite, wearing a tight grey suit. Neither of them stood up at his arrival.

Beau shut the door slowly. Chiles gave him a soft smile. "Hey."

James glanced over at him. "Beau."

"What's goin on?" he asked, running a hand through his hair as he placed the guitar against the closet door.

"Just tellin Chiles here I really like what you've done with the place," James says, lightly sarcastic, gesturing to the emptiness. "Opens the room up real nice."

Chiles didn't give him a chance to reply to James' aggression, interrupting excitedly. "They asked me to play two songs tomorrow night for the Opry at Ryman Auditorium-"

"Tomorrow?" Beau asked suspiciously.

"There was… a last minute change of line-up," James said, turning his gaze over. "It's a songwriter's night."

"Uh-huh." Beau didn't sit in the last remaining chair.

"Think it'd be a good idea if you sat in on it," James continued.

"And why's that?" Beau shifted his weight, his hands shoved into his jeans pockets, too afraid to look at Chiles, so he kept his blue gaze on James.

And James stood up, looking up at the younger man. Beau was glad for the easy half-foot he had on him, forcing James to wield to his larger frame. There was a long silence as neither backed down, but James was the first to speak. "Because that's gonna sell the story to the label execs that Chiles Stanton is leavin Nashville with some Nobody to work on an album."

Beau gritted his teeth, his tongue slipping into the hole in the back of his mouth where his missing molar once sat. "What's the catch?"

"We gotta play Kelly's songs," Chiles said softly. He had almost forgotten that she was there. "They want a tribute."

"No." His mouth had gone dry and the taste of his last cigarette felt like old campfire on his tongue. He pushed himself off the wall, taking a step to the left to pass James. But James grabbed his arm, not letting him leave.

"This is gonna be easy. Or this is gonna be hard," James breathed, his brown eyes cold. He smelled like whiskey. "Your choice, Hoss."

The piano bench scraped loudly across the hardwood and Chiles' hand touched his forearm. He felt his stomach drop as he looked down at her. She was wearing pink lipstick and when she tilted her head to lean her chin against his arm, her diamond earrings were hit with the afternoon light. "You really wanna do this?" he asked her, ignoring James still blocking his way.

"It's the Ryman," she said pointedly, excitedly. "Don't tell me you never wanted that."

He couldn't lie to her. "Two songs?" he asked after a second, checking her gaze, reading the heat that he saw there. He suddenly wanted her out of the lace dress she wore. She smiled, running her palm over the width of his back, fingers tracing down the lines on his plaid shirt.

"Two songs. Just you and me."

"And a second guitar," James added. "I'll see if Cory's available." Beau didn't even look at him. He sighed.

"Yeah, fine."

James was already on his phone, heading to the door. "Call you later, Chiles. Soundcheck's tomorrow at 10 a.m." And then he was gone. Beau stared at where he stood three seconds before.

"Shit." He fell back into the half sofa that seemed more for decoration than actual sitting. Chiles was chattering, pacing, her hands nervously flapping as she talked about song choice. Beau watched her, managing a smile at her obvious excitement.

"What you think about Coming Home? I know she never recorded it… maybe.. no that wouldn't work acoustic… would it?" She turned to look at him, but still paced. "Beau? What d'you think?"

He didn't answer her question, glancing over where he had left the Gibson leaning against the wall. "Got you a present."

She blinked at him, then smiled, laughing lightly. "What?"

He pointed to the guitar near the front door. "Figured you needed your own. I can teach you when we're back in California." And he grinned wide as she clapped her hands together, her bare feet smacking on the floor as she ran over to pick it up. She handled it naively.

"Oh, my, it's heavy." She checked the back. "No strap?"

"Easy there, Stanton," Beau laughed. "We'll find one." He winced as she strummed an off-chord. "We'll work on that too." He lifted up an arm as she sat next to him, carefully perching the Gibson on her knee. Her mouth opened as she looked down at her hand, stretching her fingers to fit a C chord. Beau grinned as she gave it a hopeful strum.

---

"Not that one, this one." Chiles shoved a chambray shirt at his chest.

Beau glowered at her, and Cory turned a snort of laughter into a misplaced cough. Beau glared at him next and Cory feigned ignorance, looking back down as he fiddled with a tuning key on the guitar in his lap. His lips twitched beneath his moustache.

"I'm not your damn puppy, Chiles. I can dress myself," Beau complained, even as his hands went to the buttons on his plaid shirt, starting to undo them.

"Not when we're playin the Opry," Chiles retorted, glancing at him in the mirror as she leaned in to adjust her makeup. Beau tossed his rejected shirt on the dressing room table, knocking a can of hairspray over. The room was small and hot and he really wanted a cigarette, but it was also the farthest from the back door. They were slotted for one of the final acts, and waiting around backstage was starting to get old. There were too many stagehands running around to watch from the wings, and he had already bummed three too many of Cory's cigarettes. He was surprised Chiles didn't have some sort of entourage with her, but neither James nor Cory seemed to think it strange. He had no idea how they'd fit more people into the room anyway.

He pulled the denim shirt on over his wifebeater, fixing the collar and rolling up the sleeves before tucking the tails into his jeans. He sat across from Cory with a sigh, leaning the back of his head against the wall and watching Chiles pull the curls in her hair loose. She was dressed for the stage in a flowing silver dress and heavy, neutral makeup. The diamond stars he gave her were still in her ears, and she wore a blue ring on one index finger. They were gonna be quite the sight on stage: Country Barbie and two scruffy Honky-Tonks. Soundcheck had been a testament to Cory's patience. They had been given 30 minutes, but James had wrangled another 10 after Chiles decided to change their second song. Again.

They had spent the afternoon out in the woods. He had parked the old Ford at the foot of a hill, then dragged her a mile until they were just a shade short of lost. He plunked her on a semi-comfortable rock and made her breathe. In and out. She was calm, and maybe a bit more rational when they made it back to town.

Cory placed his guitar back in its stand and started toward the dressing room door. He rummaged in his back pocket, glancing at Beau. "You need a smoke?" he asked.

Beau sighed. "Yeah, just give me a minute."

Cory gave him a raise of the eyebrows, but left without saying anything. Beau took the seat next to Chiles, putting a hand on his own leg as he stared her down. She glanced at him, blanching as she dropped her hands from her hair. "What?" she asked softly.

"You alright?"

She laughed, but it was a bit too high. "Of course I am, Beau."

"Don't gimme that bullshit. Tell me what's the matter." He lifted a hand to fix the low back of her dress, tucking in a stray thread.

She sighed, her breath shaking as she dropped her gaze back to her hands. "I'm scared."

He pulled his stool closer to hers, his denimed knees hitting her bare legs as he drew his arm around her shoulders. "Bout what?"

She gave a little shrug. "Change, I guess." She turned her big eyes on him and he was such a sucker. "This won't be the last time, will it?"

He smiled small at her. "No." He paused. "I love you."

She laughed wide, and he would've been a bit insulted if she didn't lean in and kiss him. "No you don't," she teased against his mouth, even as his hands trailed over her bare back and along the flare of the dress. Her hands slid along his ribs. "And I love you."

A sharp knock on the door brought Beau's hand away from where it had slipped between her legs. He dropped his mouth, tasting the sharpness of Chiles' lipstick on his tongue and he glanced in the mirror to quickly wipe it away. James was looking at them, but Chiles was back to primping in the mirror, feigning innocence. Beau was sure he didn't look quite so innocent. He cleared his throat, standing up and walking over to a guitar case, his back to the door.

"They're ready for you now," James said. He was speaking more to Chiles than to Beau. "You ready for them?"

"Yes, I am." Chiles gave him a smile as Beau picked up the Rosewood guitar he had given her, securing the temporary strap Cory had loaned him. He left his hat on the table and followed them from the dressing room, down through the crowded hall. He handed the guitar off to Chiles as he stepped outside to find Cory and smoke one of his cigarettes. They stood in silence, the smoke heavy between them.

"Try'n drop me a line every now and then," Cory said finally, dropping the butt of his cigarette and stomping it out. "You got no excuses now. I'll get Chiles to hound your ass if I have to."

Beau laughed, taking one last drag. "That's some threat, man."

"You know it."

"Forty seconds," one of the stagehands said as they stepped back in. Cory vanished to get his guitar and Beau found Chiles standing in the right wing, watching the current act give their last goodbyes. James was stood up next to the curtain, and their eyes met for a brief second. In that instance, he was the most defeated man Beau had every seen. And as much as Beau hated him for what happened, blamed him for Kelly's wasted life, he knew that it hadn't only been his fault. They had all played a part, and maybe it would've happened anyway.

"You're on," one of the stagehands said, although they didn't need the prompt. The other musicians were leaving to stage left and a kid dressed in black rushed out to remove some of the unneeded equipment as the stage lights dimmed. Beau let Chiles go first and the second she stepped into the spotlight, the crowd erupted. He couldn't help but grin as he followed her, settling on the stool next to hers. He leaned down to plug in his guitar pick-up, catching Cory taking the stool a few feet behind them.

They were set-up close to the front of the stage on an old rug to cut through some of the reverb. The audience was dark and he blinked to make his eyes adjust, but he could still only see the vagueness of the back windows. Chiles adjusted the microphone slightly as she smiled at an audience she couldn't see.

"Hi, everybody." She laughed at the roar she got in response. "Thank y'all so much for having us! I'm so excited!" She dropped her hands to her lap as she daintily crossed her legs at the ankles. "Remember Beau? My friend and writin partner, Beau Hutton, everybody." She gave his arm a light nudge with her elbow and he looked up from where he was clamping a capo onto the guitar neck to look out at the crowd.

It was almost insulting, but on Chiles' lips, it was so endearing it practically made him sick. The crowd erupted into enthusiastic applause, and there was a chorus of whistles from somewhere in the balcony. He leaned in to the sole microphone that he shared with her. "Thank-you," he rumbled, his voice echoing back at him. He paused. "We didn't write this next song." He chuckled, glancing at Chiles, who looked back at him from under thick lashes. "I once told Kelly Canter that love and fame couldn't live in the same place. And then she told me to choose love. So I tried to choose neither." He gave a real laugh into the mic. "Not sure how it's workin out."

Chiles shifted on her seat and she leaned over, her back touching his guitar neck. "Kelly told me that love was the only thing that mattered in life."

Beau grinned at her, a bit surprised. "She did?" he teased.

Chiles gave him a secretive smile, brown eyes fluttering as she turned back to the audience. Beau could see the collective lean in, everyone so interested in what she had to say. "This is for Kelly, who we miss so much, and who always had so much love to give." It was his cue, but her words threw him off for a second. Maybe in another life, that would've been true, the sugar-coating unnecessary. Because at the end, Kelly had no love left.

But his fingers found the right fret and he didn't have to think about it anymore. Cory came in behind them and Chiles started the first verse. They fell into the easy routine, the way they rehearsed. He only took his eyes from her to check his chord every change, although Cory's strong rhythm in the back meant nobody would have noticed if it was wrong. Her voice was such a sweet complement to his baritone, and it wasn't just the audience that was sucked into her soft gaze and blushing cheeks.

She giggled at him as it ended, and he didn't even notice the crowd's approval at their stripped-down version of Kelly's hit song. Chiles took the microphone again. "We just have one more song." Someone let out a disappointed boo in the front row and she laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Thanks for listenin. Me 'n Beau are here tonight with our favourite band-member, Cory Younts. Thanks for bein here, Cory." She glanced over at him and he raised a hand in recognition as there was a round of loud applause.

Beau retuned one of his E strings as he leaned back into the mic, his mouth just barely an inch from Chiles'. "First song was about love. Only natural that the next's about heartbreak." His gaze met Chiles and she gave him a small smile, encouraging him. "I was havin trouble with this song a year ago. It took Kelly all bout three seconds to fix it. And another three seconds for Chiles here to finish it."

Her hair touched his cheek as she claimed half the mic. "I nicked his lyrics notebook when he wasn't lookin."

Beau chuckled. "She's makin a habit of that."

The crowd laughed as Cory came in on the cue, the familiar intro bars to Timing Is Everything. Beau joined, but he couldn't look at Chiles when he sang the first verse. He couldn't look out at the abyss of the crowd either. So he just closed his eyes and waited until Chiles' voice took over to open them. She had her gaze on him, her lips never quite closing as they formed words. Even though Chiles had fixed one of the middle verses, they had never sung the song together before that morning. It had melded easily, as all their songs together did. But he still thought of Kelly when he sang it, of that time in her bedroom where James was ten minutes too late to find them in a much more compromising position.

And then the song was over, and the crowd drowned out Chiles' southern gushing. Beau stood and Chiles grabbed his hand, waving it at the standing audience. There was no time or place for an encore, so he just nodded and smiled, then laughed as Chiles introduced the group after them with a wink and a flirt. He followed her off-stage, his guitar in one hand, and her fingers still wrapped around his other. There was rounds of approval from the people they passed and Chiles smiled so wide Beau thought she'd rip her ears off.

---

Beau sold the green Ford to a vintage dealer who gave him 1500 bucks for it. That, plus the small amount he received for the Opry show the night before, and his bank account could finally handle the flight back to California. He shoved his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans as he stumbled around to find the bedroom light.

"Chiles, if you don't get your ass outta that bed, I'm gonna haul you to the airport in your birthday suit."

She gave a short murmur of complaint from beneath the hotel duvet. The alarm for 3:45 a.m. had gone off just a few minutes after they had fallen asleep and Beau had blinked himself bleerily awake. He pulled on his jeans and a threadbare white Henley, fumbling to collect the rest of their belongings. He was brushing his teeth when Chiles walked into the bathroom, her eyes half-open and her braid falling apart. She stepped into the shower and stood there for a few minutes.

"You want coffee?" he asked.

She made a face as she wrapped a towel around her chest and stood next to him to find her toothbrush amongst her makeup kit. "I'll get one at the airport," she replied after a second. "Hotel coffee's never too good."

"Alright." He left her to dress, making his way back to the bedroom to repack the clothes that had been scattered over the hotel floor when he and Chiles had hurriedly made their way across it a few hours before. They had made a stop at Chiles' empty apartment to make sure the moving company had gotten all of the boxes and the piano. It had been empty and clean and Chiles had left the keys on the counter for the superintendent. Beau thought she might've been wistful, but she just seemed happy.

Then Cory dropped them off at the Marriot next to BNA. Chiles had cried then, and Beau had tried not to laugh when Cory hugged them both goodbye. He knew they'd be back, even if she wasn't so sure.

The flight back to California was much like the flight from there. They ended up mysteriously in first class, even though Beau was sure he bought an economy ticket. The flight attendants smiled and preened as they offered to store the guitar for Chiles, or gave him a couple extra chocolates with the too-rich coffee they brought. Chiles was visibly excited, shifting in her seat anxiously, her fingers running along the inside of his forearm as he watched the inflight tv.

She pressed her face to the window when the pilot announced their descent into the Bay Area. It was still just past sunrise, having flown into the twilight most of the last several hours. The plane was dark, windows drawn except for Chiles, who had the shade up and the warm sun streaming in on her hair. He smiled as she looked over her shoulder, still wrapped in the crocheted blanket she'd brought in her carry-on. "What made you change your mind?" he asked suddenly, reaching out and twisting his palm around the braid falling down her back.

"Hm?" She wasn't paying much attention to him.

"Why'd you come all the way out to California last week?" he clarified, giving her a bit of a grin and a set of bedroom eyes. "Leave your cushy Nashville life for the sticks?"

She twisted in her seat to lean close to him, pressing her cheek back against the seat, her nose just a few inches from his. She rearranged the blanket so that he was under it too. They probably looked ridiculous. "I couldn't not have it, but I couldn't not have you more." She gave him a light kiss. "Life on stage wasn't… what I thought it'd be."

"Well, why not?"

She sighed and he felt her breath on his neck. "It was lonely." Her eyes flickered over his shoulder where a flight attendant passed through the aisle. "All those people, and I was just lonely."

"Did James treat you alright?" It was the question he had really wanted to ask.

Chiles smiled. "Yeah. He did. I mean, he yelled at everybody. The guys hated him." She giggled. "Chris and Skylar used to do these drawings of him… you'll have to see 'em… but James was tryin so hard to make it work. And it just didn't."

"But you seemed real happy last night." He slipped his arm around her waist, the blanket covering the innocent movement.

"I was." She gave him that little secret smile that made his throat pound expectantly. "You make me real happy, Beau Hutton. Is that such a crime?"

He chuckled. "Depends on who you ask."

She gave him a light smack on his arm. "Stop that!" She leaned in and kissed him again, a little longer, her tongue slick. Beau was glad for the dark cabin, but he kept his hand firm against her spine, even though she arched her back to encourage him to move it. He pulled back instead, grinning wide at her, his mouth pulling to the sides.

"You tryin to get me in trouble?" he teased, giving her a little push back to her side. The lights overhead flickered on as he tucked the blanket around her and her seat. A flight attendant came down the aisle to prepare them for the descent. The woman looked over at them, her gaze lingering where his hands buckled her seatbelt back in. "Stay there, Stanton."

Chiles laughed quietly at him, but looked back out the window. He watched the ground approaching over her shoulder, unable to keep his knuckles from gripping the armrests as they touched back to the ground. He swallowed heavy, closing his eyes as the plane braked, his body pressed down and backwards. He felt them rolling down the tarmac, heard Chiles shifting in her seat, the zipper of her leather saddle bag. When he felt the plane come to a hault, the seatbelt sign dinged softly and he opened his eyes.

"Put your boots on," Chiles said, nudging his leather boots toward his feet. She had pulled her hair loose and tucked her blanket and the slim silver laptop she watched some soap opera on while they were halfway over Colorado into her bag.

Beau leaned over to pull his boots on, fixing the bottoms of his jeans, as Chiles began taking inventory on their belongings. He only had to grab his brown jacket, grubby hat, and wallet when he stood to follow the well-dressed older woman that was seated infront of them. Chiles hurriedly followed him down the aisle, holding her jacket in one hand, and the overly-stuffed saddle bag in the other. Beau paused, waiting for her, and took the bag from her hand once she reached him at the front of the cabin. Once he placed the hat on his head, he removed the guitar case from where the flight attendant had stored it.

The airport was busy with the early-morning rush and Chiles insisted on stopping to buy an over-priced coffee from a chain near arrivals. She bought him a brownie that didn't taste much like chocolate, but he ate it anyway. And when she decided that she couldn't finish the extra-large mocha-frappe-something while they waited at the carousel, he finished that too. It left a coating of sugar on the roof of his mouth. He was still smacking the taste off his tongue when Chiles shook the sleeve of his plaid shirt, pointing to one of the three suitcases she had checked in Nashville.

"That red one."

He leaned over and hoisted it off the conveyor belt, nearly getting clocked by a pair of women in powersuits reaching for their own bags. She tugged his arm again, pointing to another piece, so he grabbed that too. The last suitcase was one of the last to come round, and was also the heaviest. He heaved it onto the floor, the brim of his hat falling down into his eyes until he knocked it back with his knuckles.

They loaded all their luggage and the guitar into the black compact car the rental company had reserved for Chiles. It all barely fit. The San Francisco traffic was heavy, and it added another two hours to the six it would take them to travel further north. Beau drove with the window down, the sun hot on his forearm and the side of his face, not paying much attention to Chiles' scribbling in a pocketbook as she softly murmured lyrics to herself. They switched roles somewhere in Mendocino County, Chiles taking the wheel and Beau falling into a light sleep in the passenger's side. He pushed the seat back as far as he could get and tipped his hat down over his eyes.

---

He woke up to the sound of crying gulls. The car was stopped, and when he looked to the left, Chiles was frowning down at her cellphone, the screen casting blue light on her face. The sky was dark and the clock on the dashboard said 6:04. They were parked on the side of a highway lookout. The ocean was a black gap between the dunes and the sky.

"What's goin on?" Beau croaked. He cleared his throat as he pushed himself up, finding his hat had fallen into his lap.

Chiles took a bite from a sandwich that she held in her other hand. There was an open can of diet Coke wedged between her knees. "Just lookin at a map," she replied around the food.

Beau squinted out the window, recognizing the bend in the road. "Why? We're three miles from town."

"I think I took a wrong turn, though," she sighed, shutting her phone off. It clicked softly. "I stopped at a cafe. I got you a sandwich-" She cut off, turning around to reach into the back seat. A paper bag was dropped into his lap. "Chicken on rye."

He peeked into the bag. He mostly just wanted a cigarette.

Chiles drove back onto the highway under his direction. She had turned the radio on and was singing along to some top-40 teeny-booper. Beau couldn't even complain. Part of him hadn't believed her a week ago. He figured they'd end up back in Nashville and she'd root herself back in, refusing to leave, and then pulling him with her. Because he didn't have it in him to walk away from her for a second time. And not after 8 days. The curls in her hair, the freckles dotting her stomach, the melding of her voice with his.

It was a relief that she didn't walk away from him either.

"We're early," she said suddenly as the song ended. The car took a sharp turn down a side street before pulling into a familiar parking spot. She offered a hopeful look, mouth a little open. "Wanna work on some lyrics?"

Beau chuckled, glancing over to the back of the bar. Jerry had turned on the overhead light and set out an empty coffee can for the Saturday night regulars to drop their cigarette butts into. "Alright, Stanton. First, let me have a smoke and then maybe a beer."

She grinned, pushing open the door and hopping out. Beau followed, his legs stiff, taking his 10-gallon with him. After the long ride, he reached down and adjusted himself, earning a cluck of the tongue from Chiles. He ignored her, straightening his belt as he walked after her, lighting a cigarette from a new carton. She took a seat on one of the milk crates, opening a moleskin and chewing on the end of a 50 cent pen. She even took a naive drag off his cigarette when he offered, not actually thinking she'd accept. She coughed for a good five minutes after and he laughed at her. His chest felt light; better than he'd felt in years.

He stubbed the last of the cigarette out and tossed it into the Maxwell House can. "You comin?" Beau grinned as Chiles scribbled furiously into the notebook. She stood up, still writing, and he ran his arm across her shoulders as he opened the heavy back door. He leaned his mouth against her temple, her hair lightly tickling the stubble on his face. Maybe it wouldn't last, but maybe it would. Maybe they could both finally choose love. At least for a little while.

Beau motioned for Chiles to step inside first, staying a beat behind her as he followed. The hallway was dark and smelled like spilled booze and floor cleaner. His hand tightened on her arm and she flicked her head to gave him a laugh and a smile. His gut flipped happily at the attention.

Behind them, the bar door clicked shut.

---

A/N: I didn't think much of this movie, but I couldn't get these two characters out of my head. This was the result. If you happened across this, and even somewhat enjoyed it, please drop me a review or a fave and I'll be so glad to hear it.