Page 145 of Dirty Rock

“But there is no control with you. With you, I feel completely reckless. I feel weak, too, and sometimes that breaks me.”

“Breaks you?” I whispered.

“I’ve never wanted someone to know the real me before. It’s easier putting who I really am away and being who people want me to be instead. We’re both the same that way. But with you… God, I want everything, Rhett. I just had no idea how to tell you about all the baggage that came with me.”

I reached up and pressed my big, rough hand against her smooth, delicate cheek. “Everyone comes with shit, baby.”

“That doesn’t mean I knew you’d stick around.”

“Oh, I’m sticking.” I smirked.

She gripped both my arms, and a small tear fell down her cheek. “If everyone saw you this way, they’d all want you.”

“They already do.”

That earned a chuckle from her, and another tear fell as her bright white smile broke free, and she shoved me delicately. I didn’t move. Instead, I leaned closer, my own grin bursting to life.

“We can do this, you know? You just have to let go and trust me.”

“You’re running with scissors, Rhett.”

“I’m not afraid of getting cut, baby.”

A little whimper of satisfaction fell from her, and I pressed my forehead to hers.

“You with me?” I asked in a whisper.

“Forever.”

* * *

We spent the next two days on Mersea Island with Sarah. We even stayed at her place, bringing it to life with noise from the television, noise from my singing and joking around, and noise from all the heart-to-hearts Jules forced her sister into having.

Sarah’s house had been clinical and cold, and even though I didn’t know shit about interior design or decor, I ordered a bunch of coloured stuff to go in her home to bring some zing to it. Even though Sarah’s eyes weren’t quite alive with enthusiasm yet, Jules would pull a few chuckles and rolls of the eyes from her as she danced around the house throwing chunky knit throws over the backs of sofas and tossing cushions at my head.

At Sarah’s request, I’d dismantled the cot and made the nursery seem less… well, like a nursery. It was to become a spare room again, like the others, with nothing more than a memory box for Sarah to deal with every day. Bathing herself in this mourning wasn’t doing her any good according to Jules. Who was I to argue? I did what they asked without question. Happy to be in the background as they dealt with what was in front of them.

Whenever they had fallen into private conversation, I’d slip out the back or front door, light up a cigarette, and watch the night sky. I hadn’t had a drink or thought about setting up a line in a while, and that felt satisfying.

Presley, Coops, Hawk, and Big D had all phoned or messaged to check in—Tessa, too—with each one sounding more and more surprised by the man I was somehow becoming.

No one was more surprised than me.

It turned out that everything I ever needed was the last thing I thought I wanted.

Love.

The world would have something to say about it. They probably already did and had. After our gig in Scotland, and me announcing who I was with, Julia’s phone should be ringing off the hook. Instead, she’d diverted the whole lot to voicemail and email, telling Dicky she wasn’t sorry for taking care of her home life for once.

The two of us were laid in bed in the spare bedroom at Sarah’s place one night. Jules was on her side, curled in against me with her head resting on my chest while I ran my fingers through her soft hair, which always smelled of coconut.

We’d fallen into that comfortable silence I was becoming addicted to. The noise I once craved wasn’t where my peace lay anymore. It was here, in the soft breaths, gentle strokes, and the blanket of heat only her body could provide.

“Rhett?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever feel like the only enemy you have in life is your own mind?”

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