Page 33 of The Fate of Us

I park my car in my driveway and grab my mail. I throw the mail on the kitchen counter and head to my music room to put my money away in my safe before heading to Noah’s.

Picking my mail back up, I try to go through it but my eyelids are heavy. I see a large envelope, the only thing that doesn’t look like junk, and grab it before walking out my door and locking it behind me.

I walk into Noah’s house, the lights are all out except for the one on the entry table. I shut it off as I quietly tiptoe upstairs.

I throw my bag on the floor next to my side of the bed. I really need to shower but exhaustion is taking over. I collapse onto the bed in my dirty clothes and shut my eyes.

I wake up a few minutes later to Noah taking my clothes off.

“The gate is closed tonight, Noah.”

He chuckles into my neck. “Noted. But you smell like stale beer and French fries.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I was just so tired.”

“I’ve got you, babe.”

He takes my clothes off and pulls me into him, my back to his chest, as I fall into a deep sleep.

10

Anna

My phone ringingwakes me up. I blink away the sleep, looking at the clock telling me it’s after ten. Having a week off work is exhausting. Who knew that a week of sleeping in would mess up your entire sleep schedule?

I stretch my hand out to the nightstand looking for my phone but I can’t find it. I peer over the bed and find my purse on the floor.

What the hell is it doing there?

That’s when I realize I am lying in bed naked. I flip through my hazy thoughts of the night before. I remember stumbling through the door and passing out in bed. Then I remember Noah telling me I smelled.

I grab a piece of my hair and smell it. Luckily it isn’t as repulsive as my clothes must have been. I find one of Noah’s shirts laying on the end of the bed and throw it on before lugging my purse onto the mattress.

There is a large envelope inside but I toss it on the bed and dig for my phone. When I finally find it, I see I have a missed call from Jimmy’s. I listen to the voicemail to find out they want me to work a double. I groan because I despise doubles as a server. Bartending always goes by quickly but a double serving makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a spoon. I could use the money though after a week off.

I call them back and let them know I will be in by noon. Then I grab the mysterious envelope from the bed. The return label says Nashville Songwriters Association. I have no idea why I would get something from them. I contemplated sending the money in for a yearly membership since it’s an international organization but never got the courage.

I slide my finger under the seal and pull out a stack of documents. One of them welcoming me to the organization. The second one is a congratulations letter for being accepted into a two-week songwriters’ workshop.

I have to pick my jaw up off the bed. I never applied for this. I knew about it but I was too scared to put myself out there. Hell, I’ve only been comfortable playing music the last few months with Mason.

Fucking Mason.

And I can guarantee Mason had everything to do with this.

I skim through the rest of the information. Acceptance forms, housing requests, brochures.

I climb out of bed and stomp down the stairs in search of Noah.

I look everywhere for him. Inside, outside, the damn basement figuring he is working out since he does it all the time. Not that I am complaining.

I can’t find him until I finally hear the sound of a drill coming from the sun porch he never uses.

When I walk through the door, my jaw drops again for a second time this morning. Noah must have gone to my house this morning because he is in the process of hanging records and guitars on the wall that came from my music room. The windows that used to be hazy and dirty are now sparkling clean letting in so much light.

“What are you doing?”

He jumps at my words. “Mayberry, I didn’t realize you were awake.”

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