Chapter 11
Poppy
Iwake up alone and it takes me a second to remember where I am. My whole body twinges, but in a good way. I don’t need any medicine other than Gibb.
I stretch and then realize I hear something. It’s Gibb… no, it’s Gibson Hart, singing.
It’s not a performance. Not anything like I’ve heard when I sneakily watched videos of him alone in my room at night over the past few days. His voice is pure, clean, and while that sexy gravel is definitely there, it doesn’t feel forced.
I lie still and listen, feeling something settle in my chest so completely that I don't move for a full two minutes.
Then Stevie appears in the doorway.
I stare at her. She stares at me. She’s never been upstairs before and I seriously hope she didn’t nibble at the rug in the hallway. She bounces across the room and puts her front hooves on the edge of the bed. "No," I say, knowing Gibb will kill me.
She bleats.
"This is a human bed, Stevie." I glance at the door. “It’s Gibb’s bed.”
She tilts her head, ears flopping, and looks at me with eyes that contain no concept of rejection.
Or at least that’s what I assume. Goat eyes are hard to read.
"Fine," I say. "But you can’t go anywhere near the pillows and if he comes in, I'm blaming you entirely."
I help her up. She circles twice and settles across my feet with profound satisfaction.
"You’re living your best life, aren’t you," I tell her.
She closes her eyes, and I flop back against the pillows.
Gibb appears in the doorway about thirty seconds later. He looks at Stevie. He looks at me. His expression goes through approximately four phases in quick succession before landing on something that is somewhere between stern and amused.
"How?" he asks.
"I genuinely don't know. She let herself in."
"That door has a handle. I closed it before I went downstairs."
"Didn’t seem to be an obstacle." I shrug.
He comes in and leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, and looks at the two of us, dropping his head to his chest. His shoulders shake and when he looks at me, he’s laughing.
It’s not his sexy smirk, or his wry smile, but full-on cheek-busting laughter.
It changes his whole face. If I thought he was gorgeous before, seeing him with his eyes bright, his head thrown back in laughter is absolutely devastating.
“Just move in already, why don’t you?”
My heart jolts but then he picks Stevie up, ignoring her small bleat of protest and carries her to the door. Maybe he was talking to her.
“I’m going to take her out to the barn and then I’ll be back to carry you downstairs.”
“My crutches?” I ask.
He slides me a glance.
“Hey, I have to get dressed,” I protest.
“I can help with that too,” he says, pointing a finger at me. “Stay put.”
Getting dressed took another couple of hours because I am apparently a greedy, little girl who likes to scream, but now I’m downstairs, my hands wrapped around a mug, sipping on Gibb’s delicious coffee and eating another cinnamon roll.
“I didn’t go to rehab,” he says casually.
My head snaps up. “I wouldn’t care if you did. Lots of people need help,” I say.
He’s quiet for a minute, looking out the window. “It’s important that you know why I left.” His knuckles are white around the handle of his mug. “My band was trying to push me out.”
“What? But you were the star.”
“They didn’t like that. After Danny died, things got crazier.
Everyone wanted more. More money, more fame, more drugs to chase oblivion or to reach some other level.
And I just wanted Danny back.” He scrubs a hand over his face.
“I have done drugs, and drink and everything you read about. But Danny was the wake-up call I needed, but never wanted.” When he looks at me, tears shine in his eyes.
“I lost my parents in a plane crash, but Danny got in the car that night to go get more drugs. He was so high he knew he couldn’t drive, but the guy he was with was so drunk, I don’t know how he managed to put the key in the ignition.
” Gibb swallows and I put my mug down to pick up his hand.
“Anyway, I wasn’t there to stop them because I was fighting with my guitarist, who had sold a notebook of songs I’d written to some other band.” His head dips. “No one was there to stop them.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “But that wasn’t your fault.”
He shakes his head. “Afterwards, they just wanted to find a new drummer, but Danny and I had been together for a long time. I couldn’t just replace him and keep doing shows. I was breaking down every night. But we had a tour to finish.”
“They didn’t let you grieve him?” My heart is aching.
“They paused the tour. We had the funeral and then a couple of weeks later the label realized that what they say is true – bad publicity is still good publicity. And the fans wanted to mourn with us, so they kept the tour dates.”
“That’s horrible.”
“I tried, but I couldn’t do it. One night, I can’t remember which city it was, I came off stage for a set change and I just kept walking.”
“Oh, Gibb. I’m so sorry.”
He squeezes my hand. “I’m not. I came back here and realized that life wasn’t what I wanted.”
A sharp series of beeps emits from Gibb’s phone, and he curses, dropping my hand and pushing back from the table.
“What is it?” I ask, alarmed.
“We’ve got company.”
CHAPTER TWELEVE
Gibson
I throw open the door and stalk down the drive, gravel crunching under my boots. A small blue hatchback comes to a stop. I don’t recognize the driver, but I have my suspicions.
The door to the car opens and a tall, lanky blond man gets out. Well, he might be tall, but he’s not as big as me. I fold my arms over my chest and wait.
“Gibson Hart?” The man calls as he stands by the vehicle.
“You’re trespassing,” I say.
“I’m Matt—”
“I know who you are, and if you know what’s good for you, you should get back in your car and drive away.”
“I think my friend Poppy is here.”
Anger burns bright in my chest. Behind me, I hear a soft gasp and the telltale thump of crutches across the porch. “You’re not her friend,” I say.
The guy dips his chin. “I’m sorry, Pop—”
I take two steps forward. “Don’t address her. You don’t get to make yourself feel better about abandoning her by apologizing.”
“But, I called the Sheriff’s Office, I was going to go back for her,” he protests.
I slice my hand through the air, and the guy falls silent. “She could have died. Do you know what it takes to mobilize a rescue team up here during a storm? She was injured and lost and you walked away.” I sneer at him. “You aren’t fit to breath the same air as her.”
A cacophony of bleats goes up from the barn, like they’re agreeing with me.
“Go home, Matt,” Poppy calls from behind me.
“Without you?”
The jerk looks surprised, as if she’d just meekly get in the car and drive away with this loser.
“I’m staying here.” Poppy’s voice quivers.
“In Hollow Peak?” Matt frowns. “But what about my podcast? You promised—”
“She’s staying here with me.” I take another step forward. “And she made you no promises.”
“Are you threatening me?” The idiot takes out his phone and I see red, but for Poppy’s sake I keep it together.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Matt. Put your phone away.”
I risk a quick glance over my shoulder, to see that Poppy is at the edge of the porch. “Stay there, baby.”
She frowns. “If you say one thing about Gibb, or tell anyone where he is, I’ll call the Sherrif’s Office and tell them you left me in the woods and cut Gibb’s fence—and kidnapped one of the goats.”
Matt’s face goes a mottled red. “You can’t do that.”
“Oh, yes she can.” I hold out my own phone. “And my agent and my lawyer will be contacting you to explain the meaning of consent. You can’t use anything you’ve learned without my express consent, or I will sue you and any company or platform that tries to air your podcast.”
Matt kicks a rock before flinging open the door to his car, getting in and driving away, sending up a dust cloud of gravel.
Immediately I turn back to Poppy, rushing to her side and lifting her in my arms, while the crutches fall to the ground. “You shouldn’t have come out here.”
“And let you deal with him all by yourself? I could have lied and said he was wrong about you living here and that I was with someone else.” Her arms loop around my neck.
I growl, not liking the sound of that. “If the world wants to know about what happened to Gibson Hart, the story they’ll be getting is that he rescued a woman, who rescued his goat, and fell in love with her. You won’t ever pretend you’re with someone else.”
Her mouth drops open. “You what?”
“I don’t ever want to hear you say you’re with someone else, even if it is to protect me.”
“No, the other thing you said.”
I look down at her. “The part where I said I fell in love with you?”
She nods. “That part.” She bites her lip. “It can’t be real, can it? I mean, we just met.”
I capture her mouth with mine, carrying her over the threshold and into the cabin. When I come up for breath, her eyes are dazed. “Did that feel real to you?” I walk to the couch and sit down, settling her on my lap.
"Matt's not the first person who's tried to find me and he won't be the last." I pause. "But there’s a difference between privacy and hiding and I’m done with the latter. I’ll take whatever legal steps necessary to protect you.
" I swallow hard, not wanting to give her a choice to change her mind, but I know I have to. “If that’s what you want.”
She rolls her eyes. “How many times do I have to say it?” She snuggles into my chest. “I just want you.”
“You’re mine.”
“Well, only if you’re mine too.”
I kiss her again. “Suddenly bossy aren’t you?”
A loud bleat sounds from the kitchen, and we both look up to see Stevie standing there. “How in the world…”
Poppy giggles. “I don’t know that there’s room for two bossy females here.”
“I know when I’m outnumbered.” I touch my forehead to hers. “Just in case I didn’t ask clearly enough, stay here with me, not just until your ankle heals, but as long as you want.”
Poppy’s eyes shine as she looks into mine. “What if I want to stay forever?”
“I can make that happen.” I built this house as an escape, a place to hide and shut out the world, but now I want to build it into something else – a place for us to build a life together.