Page 75 of All of You

I sat down on the couch, and he followed.

“I’m all ears.”

“I’ll be leaving Tuesday, I think, or maybe early Wednesday—honestly, I’m so jumbled right now, I have no idea. I’ll be in rehearsals the rest of the week, and then I think Nikki has you flying in Saturday. You said you had to be back for Monday, right?”

He nodded and grabbed my hand, making my heart race again as though it had ever calmed in the first place.

“Okay, so because of that, you’ll leave on a red eye that night. I’m sorry about that, but it was the only way we could get you home before work on Monday thanks to the time change. I’ll head back Tuesday night or Wednesday. Usually we do a little press tour the day or so after if I win…”

And not to sound like a jerk, but I knew I’d win. Out of six awards, I’d win something. If the duet with Jamie and I won, I’d be accepting since he was on tour and wasn’t making an effort to come back for the show. Which, by the way, was perfectly typical of him—no wonder he didn’t get nervous.

“That all sounds reasonable. What are you performing?”

“I’ll be in a kind of Country medley with a bunch of people.” I rattled off the list of names, burying Colton Danes’ name in the middle. I wasn’t going to give that guy the time of day enough to worry about him, and with eight of us performing, I should be able to avoid him on stage.

“I’m looking forward to it. I’ll get my tux?—”

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind, I got you one. I actually need you to go get it fitted. I had your sizes and stuff, but it’s custom, so you’ll need to have them finish it up in person.”

He blinked twice. “Okay. Should I maybe have been on some kind of workout regimen to prepare for this?”

I bit my lip and smiled at him. “No. You’re perfect.”

He raised that sardonic brow at me. “Perfect, huh?”

“For me, yes.” A sappy smile lingered on my face. That smile fled when I saw the answering frown on his. “What?”

“I wish it were true, that was I perfect for you, Whit.” His voice held notes of sadness and regret even as he tried to keep it light and playful with a half-smile.

“What makes you think you’re not?” I asked, clasping our hands together and placing my other hand on the jumble of fingers.

Instead of a casual smile or a pithy reply, he took a long, slow breath. A jolt of alarm went through me, and my heart willed him to speak, to say anything, so I could reassure him how wonderful I thought he was.

“I don’t see how I could be. You’re this… force of nature, and I’m a guy who likely doesn’t even have a job come summer.”

He studied our hands resting on my thigh, the creases bracketing his frown making me want to smooth them away.

“No ideas on what’s next?” I asked carefully.

I was walking a tightrope with this conversation and did anytime his future job prospects came up. I wanted to know, wanted to hash it out with him, but had no clue how to make sure he knew I didn’t care what he did. I could find him a job in the industry if he wanted, probably in a heartbeat—he was charming, good-looking, and smart, so he could jump into just about anything. The way he’d adapted to me, my life, the tour, all of it—he could handle anything.

And that was without the factor of his Army training, the pressure and leadership he’d had to withstand. But none of those were things I felt I could say without sounding like it was important for me that he had a high-paying job. I didn’t give a flying moon pie about his income, or what title he held. I loved that he’d been a soldier only because it’d clearly shaped him. But I wanted him to find satisfaction, to find that relief I felt whenever I stood on stage and strummed my guitar.

“I may be coming up with something. It’s in the earliest stages of ideas, so I’ve got some more things to figure out before I tell you about it,” he said, and I could have sworn I detected a nervous tint to his words.

I squeezed his hand. “I can’t wait.”

“I’m definitely ready to feel like I have a plan again. I don’t like feeling my way around in the dark like this. And not knowing what I’m doing makes going to work even harder than usual right now.”

“Just normal days are hard?”

He let his gaze wander over my face, catch on my lips a moment, before he answered. “Most of them are right now, yes. The new commander is pretty bad—just negative, trying to make us all super hooah—super intense. But it’s a down time of the year, and it’s making me forget all the things I do like about it.”

“Tell me those things.”

“I like the people. There are a bunch of idiots, sure, but then there are the best people I’ve ever known. Dillon was one, and I hate that he’s gone, but because of him, I know Bec, and Thatcher. And you know your cousin… Flint is it, you know? He’s the best kind of person, even if he is a crotchety old bastard.”

His genuine smile sent a fall of longing and joy through me, a crazy mix of satisfaction at seeing that beauty on his face and the desire to see it stay there.

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