Page 75 of Find You Again (Nashville Star 2)

She does.

Alabama meets Griff’s lionlike eyes, his haunted and haggard expression.

Then Griff reaches out and gently takes her hand. “I love you, Alabama,” he says in a voice so fierce it leaves no room for doubt. Unwavering love shines bright in his eyes. “I should have told you weeks ago. I still love you. I never stopped. And I was a damn fool for givin’ you up.”

Heat flares in her heart. Tears stream down her face. His words terrify her, but they also fill her with hope, with light. And suddenly, the past doesn’t matter. Why is she worrying about what went wrong instead of what she can have again? For once, she knows what she wants. And that’s Griff.

Still holding his gaze, Alabama’s response is to reach for him with her good arm.

Griff answers her, his muscular arms wrapping around her to hold her close, yet loose. He’s careful not to disrupt the bandages, to put her in more pain. And yet, she craves his bruising grip. The warmth, the hardness of his body. It’s what she needs to feel that she is really still alive.

Griff buries his face in her hair, his exhale tremulous.

When he pulls back, he sweeps his mouth against hers. The kiss is near-reverent, as soft and as tender as anything Alabama’s ever felt. He cups her face in his hand. “I love you,” he breathes against her mouth, a blessed murmur, a promise against her lips.

And then Alabama has her mouth on his, her good arm twining around his neck. The kiss is sparking and lit and Alabama can feel it electrifying her all the way to her toes. To her soul.

At her needy little moan, Griff rips away from her, his breathing uneven. “Easy,” he says, raising his hands in front of himself like he’s worried he’ll hurt her. “We got time, sweetheart.”

Alabama pulls back, staring at him through heavy lashes. She reaches out to touch Griff’s scarred cheek. “For bein’ such a tough guy, you sure melt real quick.”

He grins but says nothing, instead helping her settle back against the pillow. Warm and numb and content, she lays back down, watching as Griff adjusts the blanket over her lap, his laser-sharp gaze taking her in. “I want you to get some sleep, Al.” His lips thin out when he sees her unspoken protest. “I’m serious. You need rest.”

She does. She needs rest. She needs—

Alabama gasps. Griff immediately grabs her elbow. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his expression one of panic.

She looks up at him. “The tour.”

Griff groans. A dark look passes over his face and he drags a hand through his hair. “Don’t with the tour.”

“We only had one more week.”

She sighs, disappointment washing over her. It kills her she won’t get to finish it out.

“Alabama, that is the last thing on my mind right now.” Once Griff seems to decide she’s appropriately tucked in—so tight she can barely move—he sits on the edge of the bed again, next to her shoulder. He traces a finger across the apple of her cheek. “It can wait, sweetheart.”

“It doesn’t have to, though,” she says earnestly. “You can keep it goin’ without me.”

Griff frowns. “Let’s get one thing fuckin’ straight. I ain’t leavin’ your side, Al. I go where you go. And I sure as hell ain’t doin’ the tour without you.”

Alabama’s cheeks redden, shaken by the intensity of Griff’s declaration.

But then reality settles around her like a lead weight.

She shakes her head and rubs a palm over her tired eyes. “I can’t go back to Nashville, Griff. I can’t be there. Especially after this ...”

For a long moment, the air leaves her lungs. She doesn’t feel ready, doesn’t feel steady enough to face the shitshow of media waiting for her.

Griff tenses and she can see him thinking the exact same thing. Nashville will trap her. She’ll have no peace, no silence, no safety.

And that’s when Alabama’s hit by a powerful need to go back home. To go back to Holly, to her father, to Clover and its quiet country.

So Alabama says softly, “I have to go home, Griff.”

Home.

The minute she says it, tears well in her eyes. And maybe it’s the drugs or being shot, but she’s reminded that she and Griff don’t have a home. Not them, not really. They had a bus and a bed and a song and that was it. And Alabama has Griff, only she’s not expecting him to go with her. She knows where he stands on his hometown and would never ask that of him.

“Home,” he echoes, his voice faint and faraway.

Then he’s scooping up her hand and pressing a kiss to her wrist. She shivers as his lips brush against her heartbeat. “I’ll take you home, Al,” he says without an ounce of hesitation, and her eyes widen in surprise. “We’re goin’ back to Clover.”

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