Chapter 10 Justice
JUSTICE
Songs:
How Do I Say Goodbye? (Acoustic) by Dean Lewis
A Lot More Free by Max McNown
Beautiful Things (Acoustic) by Benson Boone
Texas Hold ’Em by Beyoncé
Let’s dance
Saturday night saw me doing something I’d never done before—attend a barn dance.
It turned out my girl liked to dance. And fuck was she good at it. Her body moved like liquid fire, lighting me up and igniting the tension that simmered between us.
I held her close, enjoying the fuck out of the feel of her body sliding against mine.
My dick particularly enjoyed the way her dress kept spinning up her thighs as she twirled, occasionally granting me a peek at her underwear.
The band came to an end with a flourish and Hope laughed, pulling away from me to applaud the performers.
I reluctantly let her go, feeling strangely bereft without her in my arms.
“We’re going to take a break,” the lead singer said, swiping his arm across his sweaty head. “But I’ve noticed someone in the crowd who, if you all cheer hard enough, might be persuaded to play a song or two.”
I froze as the spotlight landed on me.
Fuck.
Hope’s head tipped to the side as my name spread like wildfire through the crowd.
Double fuck.
I made a dismissive gesture at the singer. “This is your show, dude. I’m just here enjoying it with my girl.”
But no one listened and soon someone had started up a chant.
I frowned, annoyed that they were interrupting my night with Hope.
“Sorry, we can go if you want.”
She shook her head, giving me a little push. “I want to see you play. Go!”
My eyebrows rose. Many of the women I’d previously dated had been cool with my fame until this kind of attention had interrupted our time together. They hadn’t understood that this came with the territory.
She pushed me again. “Go. I get you to myself every day. Give your fans something they’ll remember.”
I wanted to tell her how much her understanding meant to me, but the words were lost in the chanting of the crowd. Instead, I gave in to impulse, pulling her into me for a passionate kiss.
The crowd went wild as I bent Hope over my arm, dipping her.
“So romantic!” a woman screamed behind us as I brought a laughing Hope back to a stand.
I left her in the crowd and headed for the stage, accepting an offered guitar. I kept my back to the audience as I began to strum the unfamiliar instrument slowly, getting a feel for its sound.
Like people, every instrument was unique. Each had their own peculiarities and flaws that made their sound unique.
I fingerpicked the strings, listening to the chords while I contemplated which song called to me.
“Sing Hold On!” someone called from the audience.
“Witching Hour!” another yelled from the bar.
Shaking my head, I adjusted the microphone and settled on a wooden stool one of the stagehands had brought over.
“It’s a bit rich for me to come up here and sing my own songs,” I said with a laugh. “Indulge me while I do something a little different.”
There were some boos and general grumbling, but they quieted as I began to pluck at the strings, turning the sounds into some semblance of a song.
I glanced up and found Hope’s gaze on me. In her eyes I read a million thoughts—all of which centered on me and what I needed.
“Someone wise said to me recently that grief isn’t linear.”
Over Hope’s head, movement caught my eye. And there, walking into the beaten venue were my brothers.
Well, if that ain’t a sign I don’t know what is.
Without meaning to, my fingers began to pick out the familiar chords of How do I Say Goodbye by Dean Lewis.
I glanced back at Hope and cleared my throat. “I’m home for the first time in… too long,” I admitted with a rough chuckle. “And being home brings up memories and feelings I thought I’d long ago reconciled.” I dipped my head, breaking eye contact. “This is for my parents.”
I heard someone swear near the bar and had to assume it was one of my brothers as I began to play the soulful song.
I adjusted the lyrics slightly, interchanging “mother” with “brother”, and “darling” with “Justice” but the song otherwise remained untouched, speaking to everything I’d felt from that night so long ago.
As I hit the first chorus, I realized I’d made a huge fucking mistake. My voice wavered; the grief as thick today as it had been twenty years ago.
Fuck.
Movement caught my eye, and I lifted my head to find Hope standing in front of the stage. She stared right at me, her arms wrapped around her middle.
“Eyes on me,” she mouthed as I continued to play, drawing strength from her watery smile.
My world narrowed to her and the guitar in my hands.
As I neared the end of the song, I began to transition into the next, A Lot More Free by Max McNown.
Hope nodded her head in time to my foot tap, the tears now running down her face.
She became my focus, my reason for being.
I vaguely registered that the bar had fallen silent, the only sound my voice and the resonance of the guitar.
All my focus remained on Hope and the need to make her understand that while my grief had carved deep scars, I’d begun to make peace with myself and my brothers.
As I moved to the end of the song, I took a chance and transitioned into Beautiful Things by Benson Boone, trying to put into words how much Hope had come to mean to me.
I finished and paused, waiting for her to say something—heedless of the crowded bar patrons and the numerous phone cameras pointed our way.
Slowly she swiped at her cheeks then grinned. “Now play something cheerful,” she whispered. “It’s time for us to dance.”
A grin stole across my face, lessening the grief that shrouded me. “Yes, ma’am.”
I adjusted the guitar and glanced up, finding my brothers watching me from the bar.
“You heard the lady,” I said to them. “Let’s dance.”
And with that, I began to play Beyoncé’s Texas Hold ’Em.
Laughing, Hope accepted an offer from Owen, allowing him to spin her into a quick-paced two-step.
Over the heaving dance floor, I searched the crowd and found Asher leaning against the bar. Our gazes met and he slowly lifted his beer, tipping it my way.
Grinning, I nodded back at him, feeling some of the grief retreat.
When I stepped off the stage an hour later, I found Faye at the bar with a cold glass of water for me.
“When the fuck did you get here?” I asked, surprised to see her.
“I pulled into this town about five minutes before you decided to share your heart with the world through song.” She handed me the glass.
I accepted it gratefully, chugging the water as the band took back over and began inviting requests from the crowd.
“Sam come with you?”
“Tomorrow. I’m here to surprise Hope.” She stared at me as if she’d never seen me before.
“What?” I asked, not liking the look in her eyes.
“I thought this was casual.” She gestured toward Hope, who was chatting with my brothers near the stage.
“It is.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Do you know that?”
I frowned. “Men and women can be kissing friends, Faye.”
She nodded. “Yep. I myself have indulged in many of these kinds of relationships. But does your heart know that’s all this is?”
“What are you talking about?”
She sighed and patted me on the arm. “You’ll figure it out. Just make sure you don’t hurt her in the process, or I’ll leak news so gross you’ll never have a gig again.”
I sucked in a breath between my teeth. “Evil.”
She nodded. “Hope’s one of the best people I know. Ask me to pick between her and you and you’re not even on the list.” She rose up to press a kiss to my cheek. “I love you like a brother, Justice. But she needs protecting and you don’t.”
I hated the idea of letting her go. But this was pretend—and as much as Hope enjoyed experimenting with me, I knew she and I weren’t destined for the long term. She had too much goodness in her to hitch her wagon to a fuck-up like me.
“I understand,” I bit out, hating that Faye had forced this conversation. I wanted to stay in the fantasy for as long as Hope let me.
“Do you?”
I nodded. “She’s like a peach. Sweet and easily bruised. Don’t get me wrong, she’s strong as hell. But her heart is tender. I’m not about to hurt her.”
Faye hummed under her breath but seemed satisfied to let it lie. “Come on. We need to save her before your brothers make an ass of your woman.”
I glanced over my shoulder to see my brothers pushing Hope toward the stage.
“Don’t worry, I got this.”
I marched over and caught her up in my arms before they could move her toward the microphone.
“You want to sing?” I asked, unable to stop myself from nuzzling her neck.
“No.” Her head tilted back, allowing me greater access to her neck. “I want to hear you sing again.”
“I have a better idea,” I gently caught her earlobe between my teeth, knowing it would drive her crazy and, sure enough, she shuddered in my arms.
“What’s your idea?” she asked unsteadily.
“You, me, my truck bed, and a night under the stars.”
“Really?”
“Just giving you a little taste of what you missed out on in high school. You even have a curfew.”
Her giggle set my body on fire.
“Um, so Gran’s actually sleeping at my uncle’s in Ridgemont tonight….”
“Let’s go.”
She laughed, tugging at her hand to stop me from pulling her out of the bar. “What if we get caught—?”
I kissed her, swallowing her protest.
“Trust me,” I whispered against her lips. “I’m a Wild. We won’t be caught.”