Page 3 of Heart Strings

Even from this distance, I can see the familiar tattoos that snake along his arm, they’re as much a part of him as his music. They peek out from under the sleeves of the black shirt he’s wearing, the one that fits just right, conforming to the lean muscles underneath. His jeans, equally black, are the kind that look unintentionally perfect, worn in all the right places.

This is the Connor I remember from every return, the one who carries the world in his gaze and the untold stories on his skin. He always had a way of wearing his heart on his sleeve, and today it seems heavier than usual.

“Hey, Tink,” he says with a smile, that old nickname hanging in the air between us.

It’s been years, but it still sends the same familiar thrill through me. The happiness doesn’t reach his eyes, though, and that’s all I need to see before I’m moving.

In two steps, I’m at the door, my arms going around his neck, holding him close. He’s solid and real, the scent of him. I inhale deeply, taking in the scent that’s always been distinctly Connor—a mix of leather and something warm and spicy with just a hint of the stage smoke that seems perpetually woven into his clothes.

It’s a scent I’d know anywhere, the one that’s always meant home, no matter how far he’s gone. His body is tense for a heartbeat, and then I feel him exhale, his arms pulling me in.

“It’s good to be home,” he whispers into my hair, my heart breaking along with the crack in his voice.

Chapter 2

Connor

Home has always been Gracie and her bookstore.

No matter how far I went, I knew once I set foot back here, that everything would fade into the background. But this time things are different … this time I can’t just put on my fake smile and pretend everything is okay.

As soon as I opened the door to Chapter One and saw her, every wall I put up crumbled. I knew she could see it on my face, that’s just how perceptive she is … I can never pretend when I’m around Gracie, not when I’m feeling this shattered.

“It’s good to be home,” I murmur as she runs into my arms, the familiar scent of her strawberry shampoo making my entire body relax. “God, I missed you, Tink.”

She fits perfectly in my arms, her petite frame against my tall stature and my chin resting on top of her head. It’s why I call her Tink— short for Tinkerbell. Well, that and the way she pouts when she can’t have her way.

Her blonde hair tickles my nose but I don’t care. I just stand there holding her, never wanting to let go because I know once I do, the questions will start. But I can’t tell her what happened just yet. Everything still feels too raw and too real.

We eventually break apart and I kiss the top of her head before letting go. She peers up at me, those warm green eyes of her assessing before she gives me one of those smiles I know is reserved only for me.

“Why didn’t you call and tell me you’re coming! I would have taken the day off!” she exclaims as she playfully swats my arm. But we both know she would close the shop for me, anyway; it’s our thing when I’m in town.

“What, I can’t surprise my best friend every now and then?” I say, crossing my arms over my chest and raising my eyebrow, to which she simply grins.

“I never said that. It’s just so weird, you’ve never just popped up like this and … hey, what’s wrong?”

Fuck, did my smile slip? It must have, because she’s looking at me with that concerned furrow between her brows, the one that sees right through me, the one that’s seen through every facade I’ve ever tried to put up.

I know I can’t evade her concern, not with the way those green eyes pin me in place, but talking about Ava and what happened... that feels like crossing into a territory I’m not ready to face.

“Nothing, Tink, really. Just the tour exhaustion catching up to me,” I deflect, hoping my half-truth will be enough for now.

I can’t tell her about Ava, not yet. The wound is too fresh, the betrayal too sharp. I’m not ready to see the pity or the anger in Gracie’s eyes—not towards Ava, and definitely not towards me for being fooled.

Gracie narrows her eyes, not quite buying it, but she lets it slide. For now. “Well, you’re home now, and you can rest. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up,” she says with a gentle nudge towards the worn-out couch in the corner of Chapter One.

It’s our couch, the one where we’ve spent countless hours debating over character arcs and plot twists in the latest fantasy series we’ve devoured. It’s also where I’ve crashed more times than I can count, finding peace in the quiet of the store after the cacophony of the road.

I nod, grateful for the reprieve and follow her, sinking into the cushions that hold memories of lazy afternoons and deep conversations. She sits beside me, close enough that our knees touch, but she doesn’t press further.

Instead, she starts telling me about the latest local gossip and the new books she’s got in stock, giving me the time I need to gather my scattered thoughts.

Gracie has always been my safe haven, the one person who I can be myself with. And right now, I just need to be Connor, the guy from the small town who loves to play guitar. Not Connor the rockstar whose girlfriend—no, ex-girlfriend—just tore his world apart by fucking his bandmate.

I force a chuckle, reaching out to trace the spine of a book. “Maybe you can sell my biography someday,” I joke, trying to steer the conversation away from the shadows.

Gracie laughs, and the sound is like light piercing through the gloom. “Only if you promise to autograph every copy for me.”

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