Forty-nine
FORTY-NINE
Bea
M y voice scraped against my vocal chords, its tone of unusual husky quality. It had a raw sound I couldn’t put on, generated only by days of singing. My decision to skip make-up was a good call—tears stained my cheeks. I had no doubt I was botching this recording session. I had to stop after every song and grab a hold of myself and emotions.
Declan’s voice rang out over the speaker. “You need a break? You don’t look okay.”
“No, I’m fine.” I uncapped my water and took a quick sip.
“You’re almost done. Tell me when.”
I took several long seconds to swallow, rest my voice, and position my fingers for the last song.
I gave Declan the signal.
Thumbs up.
Rolling.
Digging deep, I reached for my soul.
I poured my heart out in verses. These words I had written for Tag had me in a chokehold. I wished he could hear me scream them from a rooftop. I wanted him to listen to these words and know the truth. I cycled through the verses, pre-chorus, chorus—not stopping to think of the pain in my sore fingers.
I’d practiced all week for this moment.
The final chorus rang out in the studio, and I smiled as I sang.
Cause my love will shelter you
When there’s a storm.
My love will be the sunshine
When you need to keep warm.
My love will be your lifeline
When you’re drowning in pain,
And my love will be your company
When you’re alone in the rain.
Declan allowed a few moments for me to finish the soft ending run on Glory, her final chords concluding the album from my heart. I took a shaky exhale and swiped the tears off my chin with the cap sleeve of my shirt.
A soft click sounded then Declan’s voice boomed over the speakers. “ Damn girl.”
I smiled as I reached to set Glory on her stand.
“That was fire. Get out here.”
Muted, nearly inaudible cheering, like people screaming through a brick fortress, reached my ears. I looked to the one way window and flashed my family a thumbs up. Everyone but Hollie made the time to be here today, and the gesture meant so much to me. I’d spent the last week alone. Which was exactly what I needed, but my heart’s state was tender and fragile. I needed to rest my voice for a few days and get some better, less fitful sleep.
Although I didn’t know how I would achieve a good night’s sleep without Tag.
In some ways, my heart was lighter. I’d said what I needed to say. Eventually, Tag would hear these songs, and maybe they would give him hope. Maybe they wouldn’t. But, whether or not they meant anything to him, they meant something to me.
We gave each other our hearts—scribbles for strings .
Even as I ached for him, a soft smile touched my face. From the very first moments together, what we had was so beautifully unique. If Tag didn’t want forever, I knew I’d spend the rest of my life chasing what we had—on a never ending journey to find it again.
I stood, stretched, rolled my neck, and meandered out of the studio to see my family. My time block had a few more minutes, so I wasn’t in a rush.
When I came out, Declan cheered. “Bea Thompson. Holy cow. That was phenomenal. I got a few of your songs on my phone—I’ll send them to you. You should absolutely put them on your social media. A few of these songs have the potential to blow up.”
“Thanks Declan.” He was flattering me, I knew that. Nothing about the songs I wrote had the potential to blow up. But for the first time ever, I didn’t care. I wasn’t trying to write the next big hit. This album was Tag’s, and I had zero intention of releasing it. There was no point in telling Declan that though.
He followed me to the viewing room to see my family. As we walked down the hall, I sucked in water like a camel, as dry as if I’d just trekked the Sahara. He turned back to look at me, saying over the shoulder of his polo shirt, “From what I could hear, your family loved it, too.”
I capped my water and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
Declan held the door open.
A room of ginormous smiles greeted me.
Mom was still wiping tears out of her eyes.
Dad had his arm around her, beamed at me with pride.
My sisters were?—
The water bottle slipped from my fingers. I thought I heard it hit the ground, but every detail—sounds, sights, feels, smells—warped. I gasped as fresh tears blurred my vision.
Tag.
Red-eyed and smiling, he stood there.
My family seemed to pause, hesitate, as the universe snagged on us for a moment.
I couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing .
For one terrible moment, I thought I was dreaming. I thought my alarm was going to go off and I’d roll out of bed for a riveting day of data entry.
But in the next moment, I flew through the time warp and into his open arms.
He enfolded me—violently crushed me into his chest, his strength supporting me as I sobbed against him. His arms were like thick bands around my back and waist, his hands open and moving. He swayed side to side, nestling his face in the crook of my neck. For long, glorious moments, we held each other, murmuring muffled I love yous into each other’s shoulders.
Like slowly waking up, the sounds and presence of my family faded into my awareness enough for me to realize they were leaving.
The door knob softly clicked behind them.
Expecting Tag to let me go, I loosened my hold, but his arms pulled me tighter and his lips brushed over my neck. His gentle kiss on my tender skin there sent my heart racing, my reality tilting. But his hoarse whisper completely unraveled me. “Bea, I can’t even…” He buried his face again, his words warming my neck. “That was incredible.”
Tag leaned away, his hands cupping the sides of my face. His watery gray gaze found mine, his own nose lightly pink from tears. His eyes bounced from mine, to my hair, to my lips, my cheeks, my eyes again—drinking me in like he was dying of thirst. “Did you…” He swallowed, the moisture in his eyes pooling. “Did you write that album for me?”
“Yes.”
He blinked and a tear raced down. I didn’t swipe it away. That tear was the most precious thing I’d ever seen. I relished in what it meant— he heard me .
“Bea, I don’t even know—” His words choked off for a moment. “I don’t know if it’s possible to explain what—that meant to me.”
His thumbs swept over the curves of my cheeks, and he leaned his forehead against mine. He whispered again. “Thank you.”
“You gave me your heart and…I wanted to give you mine. I read yo ur book three times. When I put it down, songs were bursting from my chest.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Three times?”
“I didn’t want to miss a single word.” I reached up and touched his scruffy cheek, letting the back of my hand brush through the moist trails on his face. “Thank you for letting me in.”
“I can’t believe you created that album in a week. I’ve been back here bawlin’ my eyes out with your mom.”
I laughed, excess stress spinning down the drain, as I imagined Mom sharing her iconic Kleenex pack with Tag. Then in amazement, I wondered aloud. “You’re here ! With my family! How did you—why did you?—?”
“When you were at the cabin, I was tryin’ to get in touch with you. When I couldn’t get a call through, I got worried and called Peter. He invited me to this.”
“When do you have to go back?”
“My flight out is Monday.”
“Monday?!” I shrieked, clutching the front of his shirt and going to my tiptoes in excitement.
“Yeah.”
“Wait—the rodeo! Who’s taking the horses?”
“There isn’t a rodeo this weekend.”
“Oh!”
He swiped my hair behind my ears and settled his hands on my neck and shoulders, gently caressing everything he touched. “You spent three weeks shovelin’ manure with me. Until Monday, we’re doin’ whatever you want and goin’ wherever you want. Alright?”
“That sounds perfect.” My voice choked up all over again. “Where are you staying?”
“At Peter’s.”
I shook my head. “I’ve got a better idea. How do you feel about a drive into the mountains?”
“Whatever you want.”
A smile broke out on my face. “I want to take you to the cabin. We’ve got a lot to talk about. We can come back down on Sunday afternoon for lunch at my parents’ house. The whole family usually eats and hangs out. Until then…I just want it to be me and you. I want to sit, snuggle, get in the hot tub, and drink tea with honey.”
“Does your throat hurt? Your voice sounds scratchy.”
“It really does.”
He frowned in concern, his hands rising back to my face. His thumbs, ever moving, swiped over my bottom lip, skittering electricity through my belly. His touch transported me—suddenly every nerve ending in my body came awake at the memory of being squished against the side of the Ranger as Tag’s kiss consumed me. I drew a sharp breath, my voice stammering. “It’s—nothing a little rest won’t—” But my words trailed off, extinguished by the blazing heat in his eyes as he gazed at my mouth.
Instantly, I forgot what I was even going to say.
Kiss me, Tag. Claim me.
He pulled me forward, his mouth meshing with mine.
I sighed against him as his hands slipped around my waist, touching the bare skin there. A soft groan rumbled up from his throat as I shifted closer, raising my arms around his shoulders. My shirt inched up, exposing more skin for his hands to softly explore.
He angled his face to mine. In unison, we deepened the kiss, each of us wanting more. My hands plowed into his hair and his body shuddered, a flame of desire instantaneously igniting beneath us. Right before our kiss turned downright greedy, the door cracked open.
Declan stuck his head in. “Knock knock.”
We broke our kiss, but Tag’s hands still clutched me possessively, like he had no intention of letting go.
“Oh dear. I’m sorry. Uh, I just wanted to give you your guitar. I’ve got to get the studio ready for my next client.”
I pressed my lips together. “Right. Sorry, Declan, we’ll get out of here.”
I relieved him of Glory and Tag grabbed his hat off the back of the couch.
We didn't linger with my family, sight see, or grab dinner in downtown Denver. We didn’t accept any invitations to come to the house or do brunch on Saturday morning .
Hand-in-hand, I dragged him to the parking garage, threw myself behind the wheel, and drove my cowboy into the mountains.