Page 42 of It's Holy Matrimony, Baby

CHAPTER TWELVE

Commitment is like rock and roll

You have to rock the boat

Roll with the punches

And pray you make it through the storm

BECK

He swallows me up in his arms, enveloping me with strength and comfort. His heart beats steadily against my ear, full of life and promise. His lips graze my hair. I sink into his touch. Want it. Need it.

I’ve tried to push him away. Tried to frustrate him to the point that he gives up. Told him the truth. Well, most of it. Some of it. The stuff that is important and he should be aware of. None of it makes a difference. He’s immovable. Rock solid. Frustrating. Almost making me believe in things that can’t possibly be.

“Come on. We should go.” He guides me into the truck and closes the door behind me. A moment later he climbs in behind the wheel and turns the vehicle toward home. With one hand on the steering wheel he settles the other on my knee. Long sturdy fingers grip my flesh, the rough pads creating hot sparks where they touch. Supporting me, comforting me, owning me. Turning me on. The chemicals in my body are going haywire, confusing me. If they could last... Would this turn into more? Could it be something more than the sum of its parts? Could it be a forever kind of thing?

Or is this all there is? My body reacting to his in a way that makes my heart race and my insides tingle, and my mind lose touch with the reality of life. Playwrights developed the happy ending in the 1800s to give people hope. But that’s all it is. A device to make us want more than what nature intended. And still I want to give into his belief that I’m wrong about our limited time.

We turn toward the cabin. Drive up the bumpy old road. He pulls the truck into the driveway, leaves it idling while we sit in silence. He’s pensive, his mouth drawn into a straight line as he stares out the windshield.

“Midnight Echo,” he says.

I jump when he finally speaks, not expecting it. “What about them?”

“You know the band?” He shifts about and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“Uh, everyone does. They were huge when I was a teenager.”

He taps on his phone screen. “Massive. Code Porter was born to the keys. Eli James could play an axe like it was an extension of his body.”

“Jasper Hagen could do things to a drum set...” A wisp of a smile forms on his lips as I talk. I wanted so badly to see them perform live. I never got the chance. “Girls went wild for him.”

“That they did.” He glances at me. His gaze is sharp, a little uncomfortable. His fingers bite into my knee. “Did you go wild for him?”

“For the music.” I shrug. “Who didn’t?”

“Yeah.” He exhales. His grip loosens. “That’s true.”

“It was such a shame they broke up.” Though the hole they left was quickly filled with other bands. Groups that wanted to be them or had a sound we were still craving. Omega Blue. Heady Rembrandt. Bordello Sunrise. Bands that formed the trajectory of my career in music journalism. Bands that made us forget.

“It’s been what? Eight years since they broke up.”

“Yeah, that’s about right.” I remember how upset I was when the foursome called it quits. Everyone was. Girls and boys alike wore black like they were in mourning. I didn’t have the chance. I lost time. Weeks. My uniform a hospital gown. They were old news by the time I was discharged. And I had other things to deal with. Like healing. Inside as well as outside.

“What about Jase Hunt?” I twist in my seat. I’d been obsessed with the guitarist slash singer slash songwriter, as much as any teen could. His lyrics held so much heart. And pain. He’d had such a sexy voice. God, he’d been hot too. I used to stare at his poster next to my mirror. Those haunted blue eyes, gaunt cheekbones, and sinful lips hung on so many girls’ bedroom walls. A god in tight leather pants.

Nox grimaces and blows out a breath. “He’s the reason they broke up, you know.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“They said it was mutual. They had other projects. Solo careers to chase.” There was a press release. An announcement. Jase had been noticeably absent, but they’d said he was in the studio working on something special. It never came, now that I think about it.

“They were good friends. Even after...” He takes a deep breath. “Christ. I fucked it all up.”

“I don’t understand.”

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