Chapter 39 “love song” - Yungblud
“love song” - Yungblud
Saylor
Rhett pulls me past his gaping fans and out into the bright wintery day. My feet halt on the asphalt, causing him to stop as well. I’m still trying to process what just happened.
“What are you doing?” I say breathlessly. My heart is pounding so hard it hurts.
Rhett frowns as though he doesn’t understand the question. “Getting you out of there.”
“But—” My protest dies on my lips as I take in his expression. It’s stormy, the lines around his eyes tight. “My things are still inside.”
“I’ll get them. But first—” He pushes me up against the exterior wall of the restaurant with his body, his hands coming up to cradle my face. At his touch, everything inside me turns the consistency of chocolate left in a warm car.
He hovers over my mouth, and I don’t know if he’s considering whether to kiss me or not, but I desperately hope he decides to, because I have never wanted anything in this world more than I want Rhett Cole to kiss me right now.
His lips linger over mine, tantalizing me, making me crave him, driving me to the edge of desperation. “Saylor,” he says in a husky voice that tells me he’s on the brink as much as I am.
Then he crashes into me with a vengeance, as though he has something to prove to the world. Maybe he has something to prove to me. He explores my mouth with the precision of an archaeologist, ensuring he leaves nothing untouched.
His mouth is like velvet, soft and luxurious, and I could live here for the rest of my life, I think. If being kissed by Rhett Cole outside a greasy fast food restaurant in forty-degree weather is the pinnacle of my existence, I think I’m okay with that.
Rhett’s hands move over my face with the same greed with which his mouth moves over mine.
His fingers splay over my cheekbones as though he’s trying to contain all of me in his hands and can’t quite manage it.
He tilts me up toward him, his fingertips pressing into my skin until there isn’t an inch of me that’s cold.
When he finally pulls away, his lips tugging at mine, I whimper at the loss of him. I’m instantly freezing. His eyes drop to my bare arms, my red Donnie P’s polo doing little to protect me from the winter air.
“Shit,” he says, and grabs my hand. I follow him to his car, which fortunately is in a nearby parking spot. After helping me inside, he leans down. “I’ll be right back.”
I snuggle into the warm leather of the seat and refuse to think about what is happening right now. Rhett came back for me, he kissed me like his life depended on it, but none of that really changes anything.
The fact remains that he destroyed me by not believing me. Not only that, but we don’t belong together. We never have, and we never will. I can’t even sit in his car without being afraid of ruining his leather with the godawful smell of grease on my uniform.
The driver’s door opens, and Rhett slips inside, handing me my purse and coat. I slip into my parka, even though the car has been keeping me warm. An extra layer of protection between us feels like a good idea.
“The divorce paperwork didn’t have enough postage,” I say, breaking the heavy silence between us.
He shoots me a glance before pulling out of the car park. “You don’t have to explain.”
“Don’t I?”
Neither of us says anything else. When he stops in front of my apartment building, I grab my bag and turn to him.
“Thanks,” I say quietly. “For the ride and—” Do I thank him for standing up for me, even though it cost me my job? Larry may be a dick, but I needed that money. Now I’ll have to go back to job hunting.
“Saylor, wait,” he says, his hand on the sleeve of my coat.
“What?” I say, resignation in my voice. I need to keep distance between us, even if it’s just to keep me from falling again.
“I’m so fucking sorry for not believing you before.” His throat bobs as he swallows. “About the divorce.”
“You had no reason to,” I say with a shrug.
“Yes, I did.” He tilts my chin up with his finger. “You’ve never lied to me. It was shit of me to think you would.” His eyes suck me in, threatening to drown me if I’m not careful.
“You can’t just show up here and kiss me, as if nothing happened,” I say.
As his eyes soften even further, he strokes my chin with his thumb. “Why not?”
“Because you hurt me, Rhett.”
“I know. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”
The determination in his voice scares me. What if he means it? “Rhett . . .”
“Can I come inside?”
My brows pinch as I consider him. There’s no smirk on his face, no hint of anything other than pure, unbridled desperation for me to say yes. He’s a man with his heart on the line. “Okay,” I whisper.
Relief floods his face, and he clambers out of the car.
I know it’s a bad idea, but I can’t say no to those puppy-dog eyes, especially not when he has my heart tucked into the palm of his hand. Inviting him inside will only make his leaving that much harder, but I’m like an addict, only able to think about my next hit.
When we reach the door of my flat, I glance at him as I fish the key from my bag. “How’d you know where to find me anyway?”
He sticks his hands in his hoodie pockets. “Your neighbor told me after I pounded on your door for five minutes.”
“Ahh,” I say, turning the key. Looks like I’ll need to have a chat with Paula about giving my location out to strange men.
“She demanded an autograph first.”
At least the traitor didn’t give it up for free.
We go inside, and Leo scampers over to meet us. “Hey, boy,” I say, bending over to pick him up. He purrs into my neck.
“Who’s this?” Rhett says, reaching around to pet him.
“This is Leo,” I tell him.
His hand stays buried in the cat’s fur, but his eyes flick to me. “You named him after your PPO?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I didn’t realize the two of you were that close.”
I frown at him over Leo’s head. “We weren’t. I guess you think I should have named him ‘Rhett’?”
The corners of his mouth tug upward, his boyish charm back on full display. “Yeah, why not?”
I set Leo back down and kick off my shoes. He runs toward his favorite spot on the windowsill. “Why would I want a constant reminder of you?” It isn’t until I see the hurt on his face that I think about how that sounded. “I didn’t mean—”
He pushes a hand through his hair, deflated. “Yeah, I know. I’m proud of you for taking a chance on another animal. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”
“Thank you,” I say. “It wasn’t.”
I move to the kitchen and put the tea kettle on the stove to give my hands something to do.
I fight the urge to look over my shoulder to see what Rhett’s up to.
I can hear him moving around the flat, but the fewer images of him in my home that are burned into my memory, the better.
It will be hard enough to recover from this encounter as it is.
When the tea is ready, I carry the two cups to the sofa and set them on the coffee table.
As I grab the afghan and settle into the plush orange fabric, it hits me how similar this is to the first time Rhett was here.
The only other time. I was nervous that day too, but it was nothing compared to the way my heart is threatening to bust its way right out of my chest now.
Rhett moves to join me on the couch, but he takes the seat in the middle instead of at the other end, putting him mere inches from my toes. I curl them into the cushion, suddenly even more nervous than I was seconds ago.
“How was the rest of the tour?” I say to distract myself from the fact that the man I am still very much in love with is sitting close enough for me to kiss. We can talk about his music without me falling apart, right?
“It was good, yeah.” He nods, staring into his tea, then shakes his head. “Actually, it went to shit after you left.”
My lips part in surprise.
He looks at me, and I see it now—the pain he’s been in since that night. His eyes are wide and dark with it, threatening to suck me down into their miry depths. “Why’d you leave?” he says. Agony coats each syllable.
I swallow, but the lump in my throat is the size of a boulder and refuses to budge. “I thought you wanted me to.”
He sets his cup down on the coffee table. “You thought I—” He stands up abruptly, jarring the sofa. “Fuck, Saylor. Why would you think I wanted you to leave?” His hands dive into his soft curls.
I clutch the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “You said you didn’t want me there anymore.”
He shakes his head and slumps back into his seat. I set my own tea down so I don’t spill it with all of his shifting.
“I needed time to think, but I never meant I didn’t want you,” he says quietly.
“It’s fine. We both knew it was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on, Rhett.” I pick at a stray thread on my uniform. “Let’s not pretend this would have worked in the real world.”
“Why not?” One glance reveals an annoyed look on his face. “Is this about summer camp?” he asks, a hard edge in his voice.
I sigh, letting my hands flop into my lap. “It’s about camp and your past and my present and—”
“I’m not that guy anymore.”
My eyes feel sad, heavy, and skeptical. “You expect me to believe that a month on the road is enough to change you?”
“No. But a month with you is enough to change anyone. Especially me.”
Closing my eyes, I let out a shaky breath. “Why are you here, Rhett?” I reach for my tea again. My hands desperately need something to do, or they will end up tangled in his hair, buried in the folds of his hoodie, caressing the sharp edges of his jawline.
“I needed to give you this.” He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper. After he hands it to me, I realize it’s a check for the amount we agreed on. “I left the name blank because I wasn’t sure which surname you’re using.”
The implication stings, but I choose to ignore it, even though I can feel my cheeks heating. “It’s Jones again.” My voice is hushed. It was the first thing I did after the divorce was finalized. “You could have just mailed it. You know my address.”
“Saylor, you know why I’m really here.” His voice is velvet against my skin, his eyes dark wishing wells of promises. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, heart in his hand.
“You nearly broke me that night.” My words come out in a whisper.
“I knew it would happen the second I bumped into you on the stairs. I held my breath, knowing that when I fell it would hurt like hell.” The ball of tears in my throat refuses to dissolve.
“It did. It hurt so much more than I thought it would.”
“Fuck, Saylor.” Rhett leans his head against the back of the sofa and closes his eyes.
I sniff and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. “But I’m learning how to be okay. I have Leo, I have a job—well, I did”—I shoot him a meaningful look, and he winces—“and I’m trying to move on after you. Can’t you just let me do that?”
“I don’t want you to move on.” He grabs my hand and tucks it between his own. “I want you to give us a chance. A real chance. Being your first kiss isn’t enough. I want to be your last kiss, too.”
Tears cloud my vision as I shake my head. “We don’t make sense together.”
“Baby,” he says, setting my tea down before tugging on my hand, “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I would be a fucking fool if I let you get away from me again.”
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
Entwining our fingers, he says, “I’d rather do it scared with you than confident with anyone else.”
My jaw trembles as I stare at him. Can I bet it all on him? He makes me feel safer than I ever have before, but he also scares me more than anyone else because he holds the power to tear it all away.
“You took a chance on Leo,” Rhett says, as the cat begins licking his paws on the windowsill. “Can’t you take a chance on me? I’ll even sing you the song if you want.” He waggles his eyebrows in that ridiculous way that always has me fighting laughter.
I bite back a smile. “I guess you did write me a song.”
He leans forward until I can smell the peppermint from the toothpick he chewed in the car. “You listened to that?”
“I’d have to be living in a cave to not have heard it.”
A cocky grin spreads over his lips. “I’ll write you a hundred more if you say yes.”
“And what am I saying yes to?” I ask.
“Be my girlfriend.” His lips brush against mine, cool and tantalizing. “A real one this time.”