Page 164 of Reverse

“Beauty. I love you, I do, but please fucking refrain from screaming out when we’re on narrow, winding roads in the middle of the mountains.”

I wince. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just . . . if you get lost, stay there. I’ll come for you when it’s important.”

“It’s not exactly a habit I want to maintain when we’re together.”

“Fuck that noise. It’s your process, Easton. I won’t disturb your momentum foranything.” I tilt my head back and get the perfect panoramic view of red mountain and turquoise sky. “God, Easton, you make the most beautiful music. I cannot wait to hear what you come up with next. Neither can the world and,” I spout with pride, admiring my band, “the next show I attend, I’ll be stage side as yourwife.”

Easton slides his glasses onto his head and slows on the straightaway, his eyes trailing over my profile before he flicks his gaze back to the road.

“What?” I ask as he slows to a stop and parks on a designated shoulder next to some giant evergreens. “Why are we stopping?” I glance around, looking for a landmark of some sort. “Are we taking pictures?”

Without a word, he closes the top, and locks us in, turning down the music as the air cools our skin. Glancing over, I lift a brow.

“Good sir, we cannotdo. . . whatever it is you’re thinking ofdoing,and I’m pretty sure what you’re thinking will include anarrest. This is a state park.”

Eyes intent, he reaches over and caresses my face, his features relaxed, his eyes softening.

“What?” I grin. “What is it?”

“You know what my father calls my mother?”

“Grenade.”

“Yeah. That’s his pet name for her. Because that’s the way he saw her when they met. A ball of destruction.”

“Are you saying—”

“Oh, hell yes, you are. That’s what you are for me. Charging into my life wearing a dozen mismatched sweaters, pissed off about the fact that you hadn’t been properly loved, kissed, or fucked.”

“I said no such thing.”

“You didn’t have to,” he murmurs.

“You pulled me over to tell me I’m a nightmare?”

“Yes, but there’s more, so shut up, Beauty.” He positions his thumb over my lips, and I give him a dead stare which makes him chuckle.

“I always wondered why I never gave too much of myself away toanyonein a personal capacity and felt more comfortable in isolation. Sometimes it would worry me. Like maybe I was lacking some basic human need . . . until I met you.” His confession lingers between us as my eyes begin to water. “I’ve also never shared a comfortable silence withanyonebut my parents—until you. I’ve never felt as seen, known, or understood as I have with you.” He swallows before his lips twist ironically. “Who would have thought I would find so much comfort in who I am with—a Texas fireball full of opposition who disguised herself as a journalist.”

“Damn it, man,” I scold, tears spilling over.

“Thinking back now,” he continues, “I think I knew you existed and was waiting.” He kisses me soundly and pulls away. “Mywife,” his tone full of wonder. “You found me.”

“Easton,” I sigh, as my heart swells unbearably, “you haveseriouslygot to stop this. I was okay with you being gorgeous, brilliant, talented, selfless, and really,really, good in bed, but adding hopeless romantic is going way too far.”

He chuckles before brushing his lips across mine. “Baby, you have no idea how good it feels to know that you love me the same way I love you.”

“And how do we love each other?”

“Wholly, unconditionally, anddefinitively.”

“Jesus,” I sniff, climbing over the console. “You justhadto play hardball, huh?Fine.”Isituate myself around him in the tiny space, deciding to risk jail time.

He’s worth it.

FORTY-EIGHT

“Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby”

---