Sweet Surrender Read online

  The next forty-five minutes would be filled with beautiful duets and foot stomping country hits. But nothing would stop her from worrying about Zac.

  Even though she trusted Pastor John’s judgment, she wouldn’t be able to relax until she saw Zac for herself.

  For the first time ever, the end of a concert couldn’t come soon enough.

  In the early hours of Saturday morning, Zac walked into Pastor John’s living room. His feet dragged over the wooden floor, reminding him just how long it took for the effects of the drugs and the panic attack to go away.

  A bundle of blankets on the sofa moved.

  Without thinking, he stepped backward, crashed into a table, and landed on the floor.

  “Zac? Are you all right?” Willow leaped off the sofa and rushed toward him.

  With a pounding heart, he looked into her worried face and sighed. She must think he was a complete idiot. If leaving the concert early wasn’t bad enough, he’d nearly had a heart attack when she’d turned over in her sleep.

  The thumping of footsteps on the stairs didn’t bode well for a relaxing night for Pastor John, either. “What happened?” he asked as he tore into the room.

  “It’s okay,” Zac reassured them. “I tripped over the table, that’s all.”

  Willow helped him to his feet. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m fine. I was on my way to the kitchen to get a glass of water.”

  “How’s the headache?” John asked.

  “Almost gone.”

  “That’s great. Apart from a drink, do you need anything else?”

  Zac shook his head. It was four o’clock in the morning. John and Willow had busy days ahead of them and he’d taken up enough of their time. “I’ll take some more drugs when I go upstairs.”

  John yawned. “In that case, I’m going back to bed. See you in the morning.”

  Willow waited until they were alone before studying Zac like a bug under a microscope. “Are you sure you’re okay? You still look as though you’ve been run over by a ten-ton truck.”

  Zac almost smiled. “Is that your way of making me feel better?”

  “It’s my way of finding out if you really are all right.”

  He wanted to tell her he felt like a man standing on a cliff, waiting for one wrong move to send him over the edge. But Willow wanted reassurance. She wanted to know he was okay. So he would tell her what she wanted to hear and hope it gave one of them comfort.

  “My head is a little fuzzy from the drugs I took and I’m exhausted. But, other than that, I’m fine.”

  Willow rubbed her eyes. “I shouldn’t have asked you to go to the concert.”

  “You didn’t know what would happen.” Guilt added another layer to Zac’s self-destructive mood. “I thought…” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. Half his problem was that he hadn’t thought. Loud noises and bright lights were a surefire way to trigger a panic attack, but he’d naively assumed that this time it would be different. For the last few weeks, the symptoms of his PTSD had almost disappeared. But last night, they’d come back with a vengeance.

  He cleared his throat and continued. “I thought I’d be okay.”

  Willow picked up the blankets that had landed on the floor. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Reluctantly, he sat beside her. Talking about what had happened wouldn’t make the PTSD go away. If it did, he would have been cured years ago.

  “When did you come to Pastor John’s house?” he asked.

  “Straight after the concert. You were already asleep when I arrived.” Willow tilted her head to the side. “Nora and her friends were amazing. They were still buzzing with excitement when I left.”

  His shoulders tensed. “I wish I’d seen them.”

  “You can. William recorded their performance and posted it on Facebook.” Willow held his hand. “You’re not okay, are you?”

  And just like that, a wave of utter despair rose inside him, washing away every shred of normality he hid behind.

  He couldn’t look at Willow, wouldn’t let her see how much PTSD affected him.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  Zac shook his head as hot tears filled his eyes. Biting his bottom lip, he desperately tried to hold onto the person Willow saw each day. If he let her see this part of himself, his world would crumble and he didn’t know what would be left.

  Willow knelt on the sofa and opened her arms. “Would you like a hug?”

  Zac couldn’t move. When had it become so hard to accept comfort from another person? The woman he loved was offering him a safe place to fall, somewhere to shelter when everything was too hard to handle. But he couldn’t take the first step.

  With a heartfelt sigh, Willow reached forward and wrapped her arms around him. “Everything will be okay.”

  She didn’t realize how wrong she was. Each day, he had to be careful not to trigger the symptoms that crippled him. It was unfair to expect her to be there for him when he couldn’t do anything to help himself.

  He was a broken man who desperately wanted a normal relationship. And as much as he craved a happy ending, he was worried his time with Willow would end in tears.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The following day, Willow handed the sound engineer the microphone and forced herself to smile. “Thank you. That was great.”

  Even though everything had run smoothly at last night’s concert, they weren’t leaving anything to chance. For the last hour, she’d patiently waited while Ryan and the band completed another sound and lighting check.

  After Ryan was finished, he’d left to catch a steamboat cruise of Flathead Lake with his family.

  Willow’s sound check took half the time.

  “No changes?” the sound engineer asked.

  She shook her head. “It’s perfect.”

  “In that case, we’ve finished for the morning. I’ll see you back here at five o’clock.”

  Willow shook his hand and walked off the stage. A round of applause greeted her as she stepped onto the grassy arena. Even before the sound check had started, a group of eager fans were standing outside the barriers, waiting to hear everything they could from Ryan and Willow.

  She lifted her hand, acknowledging their support, but not stopping to sign autographs or answer the questions that were on everyone’s lips.

  Videos of some of the songs from last night’s concert had made their way to Facebook. If she thought people’s reaction to the video from Levi and Brooke’s wedding was over the top, the comments following the latest postings were worse.

  People who didn’t know her were convinced she was returning to Nashville. Others thought it was a publicity stunt timed to coincide with the release of Ryan’s next album.

  Someone yelled her name. After last night, she desperately needed some time alone. So she bowed her head and kept walking.

  Instead of going to the parking lot, she veered left, walking toward the lake. The water had always soothed her soul, calmed her overactive mind, and helped her focus on what was important. And right now, Zac was the most important person in her life.

  The tall, dark, handsome doctor who seemed to have everything, was hurting. She wanted to be there for him, to help him move forward with his life, but she didn’t know how.

  She wasn’t a doctor, a psychologist, or even a therapist. PTSD was as foreign to her as walking on the moon. But she loved deeply and true, and maybe, if Zac could trust her, it might be enough to see him through the worst of his symptoms.

  As the mid-morning sunshine glistened off the water, Willow stood in a quiet area to meditate. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The turmoil of last night settled inside her, found a quiet space to lay while her mind processed everything that had happened.

  Footsteps slowed behind her.

  She moved closer to the lake, hoping whoever had come to enjoy the scenery would leave her to her thoughts.

  “Your voice is even better than it was three yea
rs ago.”

  Her eyes shot open. Willow would have recognized the deep, gravelly voice anywhere. Turning around, she smiled at the gray-haired man standing behind her.

  Ian Derrick had been the one bright light in her last months in Nashville. As the chief executive of Sunset Records, he had grown her career in ways that no one else could have achieved.

  “Hi, Ian. It’s good to see you.” Willow hugged her friend and mentor.

  “It’s good to see you, too. I bet you’re wondering why I’m here.”

  Willow frowned. “You’re disappointed I didn’t sign the recording contract?”

  “No. I was away when my staff met with David. If I’d known you wanted to return to Nashville, I would have called you.” Ian studied her face. “Not signing the contract was the right thing to do.”

  “I couldn’t work with David again.”

  “I don’t blame you. Do you want to walk along the shore with me? I’ve been sitting on a plane for a few hours and need to ease the kinks out of my body.”

  Despite how tired she felt, Willow smiled. “I thought you would have flown to Polson on a chartered flight.”

  “That was the old days. Commercial flights suit me fine, especially when it was a last-minute decision to come here.”

  Willow scuffed her feet along the dirt trail. “Why did you come?”

  “I watched parts of last night’s fundraising concert on YouTube. When I heard you sing, it brought back a lot of good memories.”

  Willow didn’t believe him. “You haven’t flown all this way to reminisce about my career.”

  “Of course, I haven’t. But before I ask if you’ll work directly with me, I want to know how everything is going.”

  “I’m not returning to Nashville.”

  Ian wrapped his hand around her elbow and kept walking. “When you told me you wanted to go home, what did I tell you?”

  Willow didn’t have to think about her answer. “You told me to find what makes me happy.”

  “And have you?”

  “I have.”

  Ian smiled. “How does that make you feel?”

  Willow looked along the trail, at the trees sheltering the worn dirt track from the worst of the weather. This was where she belonged, not a concrete jungle waiting to swallow her whole.

  “If I told you I’m content, it wouldn’t be enough. I’ve found myself and I’m not losing sight of that person again.”

  “What if I said you don’t have to? You could write new material and record the songs in Ryan’s studio. Unlike a lot of musicians, you have a loyal fan base. They’ll follow your career regardless of where you’re living.”

  “I don’t want to be followed. I want to focus on my photography and build a great life here.”

  “You can still do that. It’s been more than three years since you released your last album and people are still talking about your songs.” Ian turned toward her. “Creating music that touches people’s souls is a gift. Don’t let it go to waste.”

  Willow valued Ian’s opinion, she really did. But returning to her old life wasn’t an option, no matter how different he said it would be.

  Ian sighed. “I wasn’t joking when I said your voice is better than ever. Did Ryan write the new songs you performed or were they yours?”

  “I wrote most of the songs. Music helped me make sense of how I felt after I left Nashville.”

  “It would be a shame not to share them with the world.” When Willow didn’t reply, he continued. “Is there anything I can say or do that will make you change your mind about recording a new album?”

  Willow shook her head. “I’m glad you enjoyed the songs, but I was only singing them because we were raising funds for the tiny home village.”

  “In that case,” Ian said with a smile, “we should enjoy the stunning scenery. And while we’re here, you can tell me about the tiny home village.”

  Willow leaned into Ian’s arm. “You won’t get around me that easily. Even though the village is important to me, you can’t use it as leverage.”

  Ian patted her hand. “Would I do something so unscrupulous?”

  “If it helped you get your own way, you would. But I know you better than a lot of people, Ian. Underneath your gruff, super-organized exterior, you’ve got a heart of gold. And because of that, I’m happy to tell you about the tiny homes. You’ll love what we’re doing.”

  As they walked farther along the trail, Ian listened attentively as she described what the community and Pastor John were achieving. If nothing else, Ian would go home with a better understanding of why Sapphire Bay was so special.

  And why she wasn’t leaving.

  By Wednesday afternoon, Willow was exhausted. But that didn’t stop her from coming into The Welcome Center.

  Tonight, she was on dining room duties. It was just as well Mabel hadn’t asked her to do anything more strenuous. With the way she was feeling, setting the tables was the best job for her.

  “I’d know that look anywhere,” Emma said from beside her. “We’re having Mr. Jessop’s meatloaf for dinner, aren’t we?”

  Willow forced a smile. Mr. Jessop’s one and only attempt at cooking had ended in disaster. His secret meatloaf recipe had burned in the oven, sending the volunteer fire department hurtling toward the church. Instead of finding the building in flames, they’d poked and prodded the charred remains of ten meatloaf pans. From then on, Mr. Jessop had stuck to his vegetables, finding new and inventive ways of encouraging the children at the center to eat their greens.

  “No meatloaf tonight,” she told Emma. “Mabel has cooked chicken pot pie for everyone.”

  Emma frowned. “That’s one of the most popular meals. Why are you looking so worried?”

  “I’m not worried about dinner.” Hot tears filled Willow’s eyes. “It’s Zac. This is going to sound really pathetic, but he hasn’t talked to me in three days. He won’t even return my calls.”

  “I thought you were getting along really well.”

  “So did I.” Willow wiped her eyes. It wasn’t like her to fall apart. She was a strong, fierce, independent woman. If Zac didn’t want to be part of her life, then it should have been his loss. But his silence cut deeper than telling her why he didn’t want to see her.

  “Was it because of what happened at the concert?”

  “I think so. I asked him if he wanted to talk about his panic attack, but it was like a heavy metal door slammed shut between us. I thought he trusted me.”

  “It can’t be easy living with PTSD. Have you talked to Pastor John? He might be able to give you some advice.”

  Willow had thought the same thing but had quickly discarded the idea. “John has enough to do without me adding to his troubles. Besides, I wouldn’t feel comfortable talking to him without Zac knowing.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Emma took a knife, fork, and spoon out of the cart Willow was pushing. “Maybe it’s not as bad as you think. He could be busy setting up the medical clinic or working on the next two tiny homes.”

  Willow appreciated Emma’s optimism, but if Zac was doing either of those things, he would have called her. “It’s probably just as well I’m going to Bozeman tomorrow. Helping Mr. Costas set up my exhibition will be a good distraction.”

  Emma gave Willow a hug. “I can’t come to the opening, but Megan promised to take lots of photos. I wouldn’t be surprised if all the canvases sell on the first night.”

  Willow hoped so. Half the sale price of each photograph was going toward the tiny home village. If the exhibition was as popular as Mr. Costas anticipated, she would be able to donate enough money to build two new homes.

  “I’ll call you on Sunday morning and let you know how it went.”

  “That would be awesome.”

  Willow checked her watch. “We’d better get a move on. Mabel will be serving dinner soon.”

  Emma looked over Willow’s shoulder. “Take a deep breath an
d don’t look around.”

  “What’s—”

  “Zac is heading this way.”

  Willow’s heart pounded. Instead of doing what Emma suggested, she turned around. Her breath caught when she stared into Zac’s worried face. Whatever he was here for, wasn’t good. And given that he was walking straight toward her, she guessed that she wasn’t going to be smiling anytime soon, either.

  “Hi, Emma,” Zac said in a low voice. He turned to Willow, and she wished he hadn’t.

  It was one thing imagining the worst. It was something else entirely when you saw the truth on someone’s face. Zac wasn’t here to apologize for not returning her calls. He was here to say goodbye.

  For the last few days, Zac had thought long and hard about what he would say to Willow. He loved her, but any relationship between them wouldn’t last. One day, she would realize she was better off without him. It was better to cut any emotional ties now before it became even more painful.

  He’d driven into town with a heavy heart and it only got worse when he saw Willow.

  Emma touched her friend’s arm. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

  Willow nodded. Dark circles cast shadows under her eyes. He’d never met anyone who worked so hard. Apart from the two concerts she’d performed with Ryan, she was working long hours in her studio. Once the exhibition in Bozeman was over, he hoped she would be able to take some time off work, but he doubted that would happen.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets, unsure about where to start. “I hope I haven’t come at a bad time.”

  Willow bit her bottom lip. “I’m helping to get everything ready for dinner.”

  Zac took a deep breath. Willow was upset. He just hoped that one day she would be able to forgive him. “Could we go for a walk?”

  “There’s too much to do. But the dining room will be empty for another ten or fifteen minutes. We could talk in here.”

  He looked at the deserted room and wondered why no one was here. Each time he’d come to the center, this area was busy. “Where is everyone?”