Page 110 of Fierce-Gabe

The fact that they just told everyone a few weeks ago about their relationship was a great first step.

When he brought up Easter, his plan had been to spend it with her, even if that meant going to Richard’s.

She’d been more than willing to go to his parents’, but he’d been shocked at how nervous she was.

In the end, it was him that was more nervous.

When he went downstairs, he saw her on the couch with another blanket.

“I put the one we fooled around on in the washer. I found this in the spare room. Is that okay that I went looking for it?”

“No problem,” he said. “I’ve got nothing to hide in the house. Other than dust.”

She smiled. She did that more than she had been and it reminded him of the words Richard had said to him before about keeping her happy.

“Good,” she said. “When I was getting this out of the closet, I saw your guitar.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I keep it there.”

“Do you ever play anymore?” she asked.

“Sometimes,” he said. “Not lately.”

He used to bring it out and play when he was just sitting around the house. He enjoyed it.

He’d sing a song now and again. Try to remake a classic in his own way. Or sing the country song he liked the best at the moment.

It’d been years though now that he thought of it.

Not the singing. He did that all the time when he was alone.

In the shower. In the kitchen getting food.

Always in the car.

He wasn’t sure why he never did around anyone else.

“Why?” she asked. “Or don’t you want to talk about it?”

He shrugged. She’d talked about so many things in her life with her parents. This wasn’t that big of a deal to him.

“Most of it is time,” he said. “I get home from work and then eat, clean up, do chores. There is always something that has to be done.”

“I know,” she said. “Do you miss it?”

“What’s this about?” he asked.

“I’m curious. I know you said you were a homebody and that is why you didn’t pursue it more.”

“Elise. I wasn’t good enough to make a career out of it. People have one hit wonders all the time. All I did was sing songs that someone else created. I wasn’t someone to write my own music.”

He’d tried it. He wouldn’t lie if someone asked him.

But he wasn’t good enough.

“Most musicians have someone else writing their words and music,” she said.

“That’s true. But they’ve got agents and money. You have to live and breathe it. I just didn’t. It was something I did and had a good time with it. It wasn’t the life I saw myself leading. The daily grind for what? Pennies.”

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