“Okay.” She fumbled for my hand and squeezed my fingers before releasing me. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She sucked in more air. “I still have trouble with my 12s.”
I pulled back her hair and slowly worked my fingers through the silken strands. “They’re hard. Try doing them when you’re trying not to come.”
“I can barely do them now. So, that’s a real thing?”
“You don’t know the trials of having a dick.”
She giggled and bumped her head on the windowsill as she eased back in.
I tugged her into my arms. “Better?”
“Not really. I still feel like I ran a mile. The room was spinning. Stars at the edge of my vision.” She rested her head on my chest. “I think I had a bad dream, but it just spiraled. I woke up and didn’t…didn’t know where I was. Then I didn’t know where you were.”
“I should’ve—”
She leaned up to put her finger against my lips. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just panicked. Everything crashed down on me at once. All the fear. All the questions. I really, really wanted my mom.”
“We’ll go see them together. Today.”
Thankfully, I’d spent time with her parents a few times before, so the news their daughter was living with me for the foreseeable future at least wouldn’t be coming from a stranger.
I’d also been mulling talking to them about something else. It was completely crazy. I shouldn’t even be thinking what I was considering. At least not yet. But once the idea took hold, I wasn’t able to shake it.
Teagan was everything I’d ever wanted. I’d learned that well enough over the almost two years we’d been close. What sense did it make to wait for some arbitrary time in the future to ask her parents how they felt about us? That didn’t mean I was going to spring the question on Teagan yet. I would wait until it was perfect.
Or until I couldn’t wait anymore.
I’d been patient for so long. Now it seemed like my brain and heart were on overdrive.
She nodded and took a series of long breaths before tipping back her head. “God, I feel so guilty for not telling them yet about the fire. I should have right away. I just couldn’t deal with anything more. They’ll be worried and upset, of course, and my mom would have insisted I stay in my old bedroom, which would be comforting for all the wrong reasons. I have to stand on my own two feet.” Her eyes met mine. “I say that, yet here I am, leaning on you. I always do. And you’re always here.” She shook her head, her eyes filling again. “The moment you’re not, I break apart.”
“I want you to lean on me.” I cupped her cheek. “I lean on you too.”
“How?”
“You make me happy. No matter how dark my memories are, you’re my sunshine.”
I lowered my head and kissed her gently. She was still breathing unevenly, and she wasn’t quite steady on her feet, but I just kissed her until she could breathe on her own again.
In a matter of hours, she’d have to walk into a restaurant to meet with someone who likely wanted to bring her harm. But I would have her back.
I’d gladly lay down my life for hers. Without thought or question.
Until then, I would try to give her a slice of peace.
Slowly, we drew apart. “C’mere. I want to show you something.”
She glanced at the bed. “I’ve already seen it, but I wouldn’t mind seeing it again.”
Not laughing was impossible as I held out my hand. “Something else. And maybe get dressed first. Not that I mind you naked, but we’re not alone here.”
“Unfortunately.” She rose on her tiptoes to brush a kiss over my jaw before pulling on her panties and a bra along with her floaty dress from earlier.
Then she placed her hand in mine so trustingly that my pulse skipped. Such a simple thing that meant so much.
So many people had lost faith and trust in me. I prayed she never did.
That I could do this one thing right.
I led her down the hall to the music room. She stepped inside and blinked as the motion-activated lights came up, revealing the room that was my favorite. Her gaze skipped over the drum kit in the corner situated in front of the brown-bricked wall to the few electric guitars hung up on the opposite one. Bookcases and funky seating were gathered in groupings around low tables, one of which held an old record player with a stack of vinyl records. She wandered there first and picked through the pile, smiling faintly.
“Fleetwood Mac. The Killers. Earth, Wind and Fire. George Strait. Chaka Khan. Metallica.” She aimed a weak smile at me over her shoulder. “You have eclectic taste.”
“Musician’s curse.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, already tensing.
Soon, she’d see it.
She moved on to sit at the vintage upright piano beneath the lithograph print on the wall of a redhead with crazy curls wrapped around her pair of can headphones. She was laughing as she grooved to whatever music she was listening to.
The woman exuded pure vibrance. Absolute joy at getting lost in a song. She embodied beauty and mastery and even defiance, taking her pleasure simply because she could.
“That’s me,” Teagan breathed, her fingers faltering on the keys as she did a double-take. When I didn’t speak, she turned on the bench. “Isn’t it? Look at all her freckles.”
I nodded.
Gathering my nerve, I went to my song notebook on the leather sofa and flipped to a page I’d sketched last winter. It was a rough drawing. My skill was definitely based in rhythm, not design. But watching her in the studio one day while we’d been cutting a
