Page 27 of Everything I Crave

“Feel lost?” Gunnar offers.

“Yea. Lost is a good way to describe it.” I rest my head on his chest as he rubs my back.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, darling. What does Lorelei say about it all? She’s a wise woman.”

I grimace, “I actually haven’t told anyone the whole story except for you. Addy knows some of it, but only that he was sleazy and stealing money. I haven’t told her about the court case, or my lack of funds.”

“Willow. You need to tell your family.” Damn, he used my real name, not darling.

“I know. I know. I promise I will. I’ll see if the girls want to grab dinner soon. Then maybe they can be there when I tell Mom. I’m just not ready yet.”

“You don’t have to be right now, but please think about it?”

I nod in agreement. I will think about it. But for some reason, he’s the only one who makes me feel safe enough to share this part of my life.

Maybe it’s the way he trusted me with his story, or the way we’ve slowly gotten to know each other, building trust with each other and not forcing the other to share anything they weren’t ready for. I know there’s no judgment in anything he says.

He continues to stroke my back and we fall back into silence watching Gilmore Girls on the couch together.

Soft snores come from the gentle giant under me, so I cover him up before shutting everything off and going to bed myself.

I am emotionally exhausted after bearing everything to him.

Chapter Twelve

Gunnar

I wake up, confused as to where I am.

Sitting up I rub my eyes and realize I’m on my own couch. I must have fallen asleep with Willow last night.

I stand up and the blanket slides down my legs to the floor. I bend over to pick it up and put it back on the couch. The purple fluffy thing, a reminder of who I’m supposed to be staying away from but don’t seem to be succeeding. The thought that she took the time to cover up a six foot 3 dude with a purple fuzzy blanket makes me smile, and crave her a little more.

I need a shower, and probably a massage after being cramped on the couch all night. I walk down the hall, rubbing the knots in my neck to the shower when I get distracted by Willow’s music room. I’ve never heard her play except when she sings at The Bar with the band.

After her confession last night, I’m determined to help her find her confidence in music again.

Her voice haunts my dreams at night, the soulful pain you can feel in your bones when she sings is something out of this world. Everyone deserves to hear her music.

I broke down when I went to Maine, and finally looked at her social media. The girl in those videos is a different singer than I know now. She used to be so charismatic, happy, but now, her music is sullen compared to that girl in those videos. The joy left her gradually.

I thumb over her guitar strings. It’s been too long since I last picked one up too. The memories hurt too much.

My buddy from the military taught me how to really play in boot camp and how to hone in my skill with my voice.

Hernandez was the class clown. Always getting us in trouble. But man did he know how to get girls. He told me that the key is being able to play the guitar, he later learned I could strum along to some basics, and sing. He insisted that I had a dynamic duo in getting the ladies. It was then he vowed to help me. He grew up in a very music oriented home and had the skills I wish I had in high school.

I haven’t picked up a guitar since the day he died overseas with Hunter and I. I’ll never forget his pregnant wife crying in my arms at his funeral. It was shortly after that I started drinking to forget that very moment.

I sit on Willow’s stool, and pick up the guitar gently from its stand. I begin slowly strumming thechords toStairway to Heavenby Led Zeppelin. Hernandez would be proud I still remember and a smile sweeps across my lips as I sing the words.

When I finish, I place the guitar back on the stand.

“You don’t have to be finished with her. Keep playing,” Willow urges from behind me. “I had no idea you could play like that, or sing.”

Her voice is almost a whisper, like she’s afraid to break the moment we just unknowingly shared.

“Only if you sing with me.”

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