Page 79 of Rope Me In

He’s everything I thought he wasn’t and more. When we first met, I assumed he was just the immature town playboy, a man who was set on getting on my nerves. But the more time I spend with him, the more I realize that he’s sensitive, caring, andprotective. Both times we’ve been intimate together, he’s taken care of my needs. Which was never the case with Derek.

Sex with him was always about a quick release.Hisquick release. Looking back, I one-hundred-percent believe he was cheating on me the whole time. I question if he was ever attracted to me, especially considering how he’s treated me since I stopped letting him use me for my talent.

I forget about how tired I am and stand up from my spot on the bed, walking over to my violin case. I run my hand along the black fiberglass before touching the latches. How many times have I opened this case? Thousands?

After my longest break from playing ever, I click open the latches then remove the soft cloth to reveal my beautiful instrument. I keep it pristine, taking the best care of it I can. Derek said I baby it like a real child, and in a way, it is. I love it, and it’s always been there for me—not just this specific violin but every single instrument I’ve played before it.

Tingles spread through my body, and a smile curls at my lips when I remember the first time I ever held a violin. This small wooden instrument represents a lot of moments in my life. The first time I fell in love with music, the first time I found something just for myself that made me happy, the first thing I ever felt I was good at. The first thing that ever made me feel seen, heard, and appreciated.

I swallow down the emotion gathering in my throat, undo the Velcro strap holding in my violin, and pick it up. I release a long breath and shake my shoulders out to relax. Earlier, I thought I didn’t have a home, but in a way, this violinismy home. That may be a weird thing to say, but I imagine it brings me comfort like a home would. It’s dependable and reliable, and if something breaks on it, I fix it. When I’m holding my violin, nothing else matters.

Every fiber of my being is chanting at me to play now. If my violin could talk, I think it would be yelling at me, too. Jake hasgiven me the night off, and Kade is somewhere on the ranch, so I might as well use the time alone to my advantage.

Decision made, I tuck my violin under my chin. My body breathes a sigh of relief as the wooden instrument finds its place, fitting perfectly as if it was always meant to be there. I pluck the strings, the steel digging into the pads of my fingers as I tune the instrument. The familiar A, D, G, and E notes wash over me like a balm to soothe all hurts.

Once that’s done, I put the violin down to prepare my bow and then stretch out my body. It’s sore from ranch work and nights with Kade. I beam to my empty room at the memory of his hands on my body, the way he held me while we danced, and how he comforted me as I cried after he spanked me.

Like drawing water from a well, I pull up all the different emotions I’ve felt so deeply in my body—in my soul—since moving to Randall. I gather each memory and feeling of pain, confusion, pride, happiness, lust, and pleasure and hold them close. I need them for what I’m about to do next.

I pick up my violin and bow and get into position. A perfect song comes to mind, a cover I never got to play with my band. They preferred to stick to original songs—or at least Derek did. This song never felt right to play around him or my band, anyway. But now, Kade’s hazel eyes appear behind my eyelids, and for the millionth time today, my heart beats faster. I close my eyes and inhale before I start to play.

The rich, expressive tone of my fiddle filling my ears after so long makes me shiver, and I lose myself in the notes of “Biblical” by Calum Scott. The first time I heard this song, it resonated with me and my feeling of being isolated by Derek and my band. I so desperately wanted to connect with anyone, with anything, and be loved—and not just romantic love, but any kind of love. I just wanted to have someone who cared about me enough to ask me if I was okay, to ask me how my day was.

I pull the bow across the strings, my body swaying with the soulful notes as I take every emotion I pulled from deepwithin me and pour them into the song. I absorb every resonate vibration of the instrument, hear every lyric in my mind, feel every stinging press of steel into the pads of my fingers.

Tears flow down my cheeks, and I soon forget where I am, forget about everything in my life, and become a vessel of music and emotion. The song crescendos, and I think I let out a sob, but I don’t stop. I feel, and I feel, and I feel, and I play my heart out.

When the song ends, the last E echoes through the small room until it fades into the air like a wisp of vapor along with my exhale. I stand there in silence for a long moment, wiping the tears from my cheeks as I process what I just experienced: my heart coming home.

It isn’t until I hear a throat clear that I spin around, my gaze connecting with the eyes I can’t stop seeing in my mind.

“Kade,” I whisper. His stare is soft, and I can’t miss the tears that stain his cheeks. I set my instrument on the bed and take a few steps toward him. He hasn’t moved, and he hasn’t tried to hide the fact that he’s emotional.

“What’s wrong?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything. My hands itch to touch him, to hold him, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do in this situation. We’re not dating—at least, I don’t think so. But calling us friends sounds even stupider.

He opens his mouth but then closes it, as if he’s speechless. Insecurity washes over me like a tidal wave, and my cheeks burn. “How long have you been standing there?”

He answers by crushing me into his body, wrapping his strong arms around me as he buries his face in my hair. I let him hold me, his warmth seeping into my bones and cocooning around me. A blank space inside me fills, and I try to remember the last time I was hugged. It’s been a long time, and I’ve never been hugged like this, in a way that’s all-consuming. I don’t know where he ends and I begin.

I squeeze him harder, and he lets out a shuddering breath. “Lemon, that was…” He squeezes metighter. “…unlike anything I’ve ever seen or heard.” He runs his hands down my back and takes a long, shaky inhale before relaxing into me. “The way you play, it’s—beyond words.”

I pull back from his body and stare up into his shining eyes, wiping a tear track from his stubbled cheek. He looks so young and vulnerable in this moment that my heart aches for him, for the sadness I see in his eyes that his usual boyish flirtation hides.

Kade takes my hand from his cheek and kisses my palm. “Do you think you could play another one for me?”

Excitement flutters low in my belly at the joy I hear in his voice when he asks. “Don’t you have to work tonight?”

“No, I wasn’t scheduled.”

I think of that winky face in Jake’s text, and things click into place.

“You asked Jake to give me the night off, didn’t you?”

I should probably be embarrassed that Jake knows Kade is spending time with me, but I’m surprised to find it doesn’t bother me. It makes whatever is happening between Kade and I feel a little more real and not just a lot of confusing thoughts in my head.

“I did,” he answers.

“Why?”

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