“Nothing’s come to mind yet.”
She’s silent for a long time — so long I think she’s fallen asleep, but when I glance down, I see her eyes are open and full of thoughts. Her murmur is achingly soft. “Wildwood.”
“What?”
“As a name for the band. What about Wildwood?” Her eyes lift. “Wilde and Woods. Your last name and mine, combined. It’s short, it’s unique, and it has meaning.”
I grin. “You, Felicity Wilde, are a genius. Have I told you that?”
“Not today.”
I glance at the clock. “Well, it’s only eleven thirty. There’s still time.”
“Cutting it pretty close there, mister.” Her smile wavers a bit as a thought occurs to her. “Hard to believe it’s our last night in Nashville.”
“Are you sure you’re ready to leave so soon?” A fissure of unease runs through me as I think about our flight tomorrow night. Francesca managed to book us on the same red-eye she’s taking back to LA. “If you have loose ends you need to tie up here…”
“They’re already tied,” Felicity murmurs. “I thought I was leaving back on the Fourth, remember? I said goodbye to Gran. Quit my job. Cleared all my stuff out of the apartment above The Nightingale. The only thing I have to do is grab my bag and my guitar from Carly’s when I go over to say goodbye to her tomorrow morning.”
“Okay.” My gaze scans her face. “You ever plan on telling me what you were running away from?”
There’s a flicker of fear in her eyes. “I will. I promise. I just…”
“Shhh.” My lips find hers. “I’m not trying to push you. I just want you to know, I’m here. No matter what you need.”
She cuddles closer to me. I press my lips against her hair and breathe in her scent. It soothes the nervous energy inside me like a balm applied directly on my soul.
“Ryder?” she says after a while.
“Yeah?”
“Promise me something?”
“Anything.”
“You won’t become one of those Hollywood health nuts who measures every ounce of boiled chicken that passes his lips and makes me run ten miles every morning? Because I’m not a runner. My face gets all red, my arms do this strange flailing thing, and—” She sighs. “It’s not pretty.”
I laugh. “I promise.”
“I also don’t do yoga.”
“Neither do I, baby.” My hands slide lower down her body. “Though, I can think of several positions I’d like to try out with you…”
Her giggles soon turn into gasps as our last night in Nashville slips away.