Page 80 of Rock

Rock’s breath hitched as he leaned closer. It washim. In her basement. A younger version of him, sitting on the old couch that used to be down there in front of that hideous, blue-carpeted wall. “When did you do this?” he whispered.

“The night I got here. When I arrived at the house, I wandered around for a while. When I went downstairs and saw that carpeting, my knees nearly buckled. I was transported back in time and ended up sitting on the floor sketching for hours. My memories.”

“I drove by the house that night. I saw the lights on in the basement, but I figured you’d just forgotten to turn them off when you left.” Thank God Carl hadn’t attacked her that night. She’d been alone. Who knew what could have happened?

She turned the page. Another sketch of Rock. He was standing in front of the carpeted wall this time, playing an air guitar.

He chuckled. “That’s amazing. How did you pull that out of your mind?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Even before I came here, I had started thinking about you more. Maybe because I knew I was coming. Maybe it made me feel like I would be close to you. Maybe I hoped I would see you. Maybe I slipped into the past and got trapped. I don’t know. The book before this one looks similar, and I wasn’t even in town yet. I just follow my muse. I sketch whatever comes to mind.”

He was so choked up he could barely breathe. He reached for the book. “May I?”

She released it, letting him hold it in his lap.

He stared at the sketch. He shouldn’t have been surprised by her talent. She’d always been talented. He’d seen some of her work. But the likeness to him from nearly forty years ago was uncanny.

After a few pages, he noticed he looked different. Older. These were sketched after they were reunited. When had she had time? Some were of him. Some were of items, like his bike, his jacket, his boots. His cabin in the woods featured in a few. And then he came to several doodles of his MC logo and variations of it. Finally, he noticed a page of teddy bears. Some of them were worn like the one he’d given her years ago. Some were new, like the second one he’d given her the night they’d reunited. One of the older ones was circled.

“What’s this, Baby girl?”

“My tattoo.”

He lifted his gaze to find her biting her lip.

He cupped her face. “I love it.” He looked back down. The bear was worn, but she’d made it somehow look loved andhappy. The bear was wearing a T-shirt, and on the T-shirt was his name: Rock.

A lump in his throat kept him from responding. He stared and stroked the edge of the page, not wanting to mess up her sketch.

“If you don’t like it…” she murmured.

He jerked his gaze to hers. “I love it so much, I’m speechless, Little Lyla. Where are you planning to put the tattoo?”

She shrugged. “I did a bit of research. I think it might be too painful on my boob. Maybe here?” She pointed to her bikini line, low on her hip. No one would ever see it but him.

He set the book on the coffee table and grabbed her around the waist to lift her onto his lap, straddling him. Cupping her face, he said, “Marry me.”

She smiled. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” He sat taller.

“You seem shocked I would agree,” she teased, stroking his shoulders.

He shrugged. “You didn’t hesitate.”

“Why would I? You’re the love of my life. I’m not going anywhere.”

He pulled her in for a kiss. “When?”

She giggled. “When should we get married?”

“Yes. I was thinking tomorrow.”

She giggled harder. “Okay.”

He grinned wide. “You’d do that?”

She leaned closer to him. “Yes, Daddy.”

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