Page 51 of Next Time I Fall (Excess All Areas 2)

“Yes. Did you help out with any of the bands that came before us?”

“Century Done. A country duo. I helped Mitchell Cutler with vocal exercises. He was really appreciative.”

Jase bit down on the flicker of jealousy. “How appreciative?”

“Appreciative enough to say thanks when he packed up to go home.”

“Are they a big act?”

“They took home best album and vocal duo at the Country Music Awards last year.”

“So, big then. Perfect. You get in touch with Mitchell and tell him that you now have a really big, tough boyfriend and explain why you need a reference.”

Cerys grinned. “I’m not lying to get a reference.”

Jase pulled on the zipper of her onesie and tugged her close so he could kiss her. She tasted of strawberry jam, sweet like she was. “You think it would be a lie?”

She rubbed two fingers across her lips. “I don’t know. Would it?”

“Are you going to make me kiss you again?”

“It depends. Are you my boyfriend?”

* * *

Jase studied her face and, for a moment, she wondered if her own insecurities had made her push him too hard.

Two weeks ago, they didn’t know each other. And seventy-two hours ago, she’d nearly run him over.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That was a totally unnecessary question. I’m not sure where that sudden need for definition came from.”

Jase looked confused. “Wait, didn’t I suggest I was your boyfriend first, before you got all self-reflective about it? Did I say that wrong?” he asked. “Nan said be tender and listen. I listened to you say your dad wasn’t paying attention to you, and I can help, and I held your hand.”

“You told your nan about me?”

“Yeah. Of course I told my nan about you.”

Her heart melted as she smiled. “That might be even sweeter than breakfast and offers of help.”

He ran his thumb over her lip. “I like this smile best. When you really mean it. Brightens up my whole fucking day. I know we’re taking this slow while I deal with shit, but I want a label that means something to me.”

“What do you mean?”

Jase placed his hands on top of his head and inhaled a deep breath, blowing it out slowly, before returning his hands to his lap. “I’m fed up with everyone assigning shit labels to me. Dick, or angry. Dumb student. Half-brother, or equally half-arsed singer. I’m fed up with being the son of a criminal, or a parentless kid, an almost rock star. Most likely to break up the band. I want a label that means something. I want it to be something good, Cerys. Andboyfriendmeans I’m someone’s by choice. And hopefully I’ll be a half-decent one and live up to it.”

Vulnerability was a deceptively easy emotion to describe, yet incredibly difficult to be. Opening yourself up to someone after years of feeling rejected by everyone else took a courage she wasn’t sure she possessed. But in those few sentences, Jase had told her so much about himself that she could weep for him.

“Yes, you’re my choice, Jase. I don’t know where this will go, but I’m committed to figuring that out with you. I will happily have you as my boyfriend.”

Jase released a pent-up breath. “Okay. Good. Because this, us, me not being a dick ... I’m trying.”

“I know. And it’s working. But also, so many of those labels ... do people say those things about you, or are they labels you put on yourself?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does, because you need to love who you are, regardless of others’ opinion. You’re the only person who can change the path you are on. You made it to Detroit. You’ve dived deep inside yourself to put words to shadow feelings. You’re talented. And strong. And selfless. Maybe you have done things in the past that have earned those feelings about who you are. But right here, in this moment, you are none of them. They don’t own you, and you don’t have to live up to them.”

And, God, she wanted to shake him and hug him and kiss him all at the same time to reinforce her point. What a misery it must be to carry the weight of all that around with him.

---