Chapter 12 #2
“You and I both know it’s like riding a bike. And if you didn’t intend on playing it, why did you bring your beat up guitar case? Is it empty?”
“No, it’s not. But I only brought it because you threatened my life if I didn’t bring it.”
“Hmm, did I?” she asks, feigning innocence.
“You most certainly did. I believe you said something like, ‘if you don’t bring your guitar I’ll kill you or put your balls in a meat grinder.
’” Instinctually, a shiver runs down my spine at the memory.
She had the craziest look in her eyes, but it was the only thing she had said to me for hours before we left, so I did as she asked.
“So what song should we sing?” she asks without me ever agreeing.
“What makes you think I’m getting on that stage?”
She shrugs her shoulders, and I don’t miss the way that little movement has her robe falling open ever-so-slightly. “You said you’d do anything. This is my request.”
“You know I don’t like playing, let alone singing, in front of crowds. Could I maybe just play here with you after you’re ready? Like when you’re warming up your vocal chords? Besides, if the two of us perform together on stage, won’t that only shove our marriage further into the spotlight?”
She pulls at her bottom lip while she thinks it over before saying, “Fine. I suppose that’ll do.”
Leaning down, I whisper in her ear, “Do I get to pick the song?”
“Sure,” she whispers, breathless.
“Then I choose ‘Landslide,’” I tell her without hesitation.
“The original version or the one by The Chicks?”
Looking into her eyes for as long as I can, I brush a stray strand of hair that’s fallen out of her curlers behind her ear and say, “Whichever was the version you used to sing me to fall asleep over the phone or while you ran your nails over my scalp as we laid in bed.”
Her breathing picks up, and it takes nearly all the restraint I have to resist looking down to watch her chest rise and fall. “That was so long ago I’m not even sure I remember, but I think it was sort of a mix of the two.”
“It was ours, and that’s the one I choose.”
“Stripped down, just you and me?” she questions, and my stomach tightens involuntarily.
“That’s the only way you’ll ever get me to do it, T,” I tell her, looking into her deep brown eyes while fighting the urge to kiss her.
“Okay, just the two of us. Now go take a steaming hot shower and warm up those vocal chords while I tune your guitar.”
That little tidbit seems to break me from my spell. “Since when did you learn to tune a guitar?” I ask, a playful teasing in my tone.
“I might’ve picked up a few things in the last several years. You’ll just have to stick around to find them all out.” She shoots me a playful wink and I think maybe that means she’s forgiven me, even though she shouldn’t.
“Looking forward to it, Thorn.” As if on instinct, she looks down at my left hand and stares at the tattoo wrapped around my left ring finger.
I clear my throat to regain her attention.
“Some day I’ll tell you about them.” When she just stares back at me in confusion, I clarify, “My tattoos. I’ve gotten too many to count by now, but I’ll tell you the story behind them. ”
There’s really not much to tell. They’re an homage to her. Every last one of them has to do with the girl who stole my heart at eighteen.
Without another word I step back and make my way toward the door before hesitating with my hand on the handle.
“The third hanger in,” I murmur softly over my shoulder.
Confusion knits her brows. “What?”
“The third hanger in—the black dress with black jewels covering the bodice. If I were choosing an outfit for you tonight, that’s what I’d want to see you in.”
“And what makes you think you get a say in my wardrobe?”
“I know I don’t. It was a request. Do me a favor and grant me it?”
She scoffs. “Why would I do that?”
Lowering my gaze to the floor, I smile softly at my shuffling feet. “Because seeing you in a version of the dress you wore to my senior prom will have me feeling nostalgic, just like playing for you will now. It’ll be a full circle kind of moment.”
Chancing a glance, I look up at her. She tilts her head side to side before answering, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It will be a full circle moment considering the time you sprang a surprise performance on me while we were at the fair. Consider this a decade’s worth of payback.”
“Hey, look where it got us.” I take a moment to let those words sink in, and while our future didn’t work out for the two of us the way I’d planned, I could never regret that night and the success it led her to.
Taevin breaks our eye contact, gazing off to the side of the room and I take that as my cue to leave her alone.
As I suds up in the shower, I try to give myself a mental pep talk for our little private performance. Basically the only thing I can come up with is, don’t fuck this up.
Taevin
Yeah . . . so I fucked up.
I messed up in the worst way.
After I tuned Jax’s guitar, he came back into my room smelling so good it left me reeling—a mixture of his laundry detergent, his bodywash, and the cologne I got him as a wedding present. How is it that he still has it after all this time?
As he approaches the bed where I’m sitting with his guitar in my lap, I clear my throat and try my best to subtly breathe him in when he takes a seat beside me.
“You, uh, smell familiar.”
Jax quirks a brow, bringing the fabric of his shirt to his nose and taking a whiff. “Familiar in a good or bad way?”
“The best way,” I mutter under my breath but he definitely heard it if the cocky smirk he’s wearing is anything to go off of.
Looking over at him, I can’t help but ask, “How is it you smell exactly like the cologne I got you on our wedding day?”
“Because I still wear it. Well, lately only for special occasions so it doesn’t run out. When I got my first signing bonus, I bought a ridiculous amount of bottles because I heard they were discontinuing it.”
His cheeks heat in the most adorable way, so I question, “How many bottles is a ridiculous amount?”
“Twenty-five,” he murmurs.
My eyes widen. “Jax! That cologne was like two hundred dollars. You spent five grand on cologne?”
He grabs the back of his neck, looking so bashful it takes everything in me not to throw myself into his arms right now.
I’ve never been able to resist him when he gets like this—the way he looks right now is like an aphrodisiac personalized just for me.
“Yeah, I know. When Bennett found out because we were living together at the time, he just about blew a gasket and gave me the biggest lecture on being smart with my money. It was another example of me doing something to keep the memory of us close that he just couldn’t comprehend. ”
“How many bottles do you have left?” I ask, my voice hushed.
“I’ve got plenty—I think I’ve only gone through about six or seven. But I wanted to be able to wear it for the rest of our lives, so when I realized I was going through about a bottle a year when I wore it everyday, I started to cut back and only wear it on game days and special occasions.”
“And right now is a special occasion?”
“It is,” he assures, nodding his head.
It’s only then I take in what he’s wearing.
A familiar camouflage baseball hat I got him when we were dating causes another wave of nostalgia to hit.
To anyone else, the simple combination of a camo hat and a spritz of cologne wouldn’t damn near shut them down and turn them on all at once.
Well, if anyone saw Jax right now, they would definitely feel the same.
He’s paired his backward hat with an olive green Carhartt shirt, fitted light-wash jeans, and a pair of chestnut, square toe Tecovas.
Essentially, he looks the exact way I’d imagined him in all of my fantasies over the past decade.
So, yeah, I’m completely fucked.
How am I supposed to resist him when I’ve already been hanging on by a thread?
Knowing I need some space, I shift his guitar beside me and stand. “I’m going to finish getting ready quickly,” I tell him.
Nearly a half hour later, once Elsie put the finishing touches on my hair and makeup, I walk into my bedroom where Jackson was waiting for me. He’s got his guitar perched on his thigh as if he’s been playing, but I know he hasn’t since I haven’t heard anything from the other room.
He looks up, and when he takes in my chosen outfit, he shakes his head as a slow smile spreads across his face. “Should’ve known asking you to wear something for me would only make you do the opposite.”
Slowly, I lower my gaze from his and try to take my outfit in from his eyes.
I’m wearing a lightwashed denim corset, a short, black leather skort, a belt with an oversized turquoise buckle, and my favorite black and turquoise cowboy boots.
My ears, neck, and arms are covered in turquoise and silver jewelry, and I’m still debating whether or not I’ll wear my signature black cowgirl hat or not.
The dress Jax requested wasn’t right for this festival, but I did tell my stylist I was taking that one home with me to save for another performance in the future.
“I tend to stray from being the people-pleasing girl I once was the farther I get from Minnesota,” I inform him.
“Does that mean you’ll want to please me when we get back home?” His question is meant to be teasing, but it causes my heart to stutter.
Home.
He said when we get back home.
And, god, what I wouldn’t give to go back in time and make that a possibility.
But I can’t.
All we have is here and now.
Giving my head a slight shake, I lick my lips and gesture to his guitar. “Shall we?”
Jax gives me a curt nod before looking down at his guitar—well, more like glaring at it.
“You know you can’t just will it to play itself, you actually have to strum your fingers,” I tease, and when he shuts his eyes, hanging his head, I almost feel bad. That is, until I see the shake of his shoulders from his muffled laughter.
He throws his head back so the beautiful sound echoes off the walls, and suddenly I wish I could freeze time. I’d give anything to stay here in this bubble with him like this—his smile the only thing I see and his laughter playing like a record on repeat.
When he finally composes himself, he gives me a slow perusal; the way he longingly takes me in feels like a physical caress. “God, I’ve missed you. So damn much,” he rasps once his gaze finally meets mine.
My heart lurches in my chest at his admission. As if I have no control of my body, I’m suddenly across the room and sitting on the edge of the mattress next to him. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin.
“Do you need me to sit behind you and show you where to place your fingers on the frets like you did for me my first time?” I ask. What was meant to sound sassy completely misses its mark, my sultry tone eliciting goosebumps on his arms.
Jax swallows roughly, and I watch the way his throat works with rapt attention.
I used to love sucking, licking, and biting the skin there.
As if he knows exactly where my mind has gone, he begins strumming the opening chords of the song.
His playing isn’t practiced like it once was, but it still works to throw me back in time just the same.
The moment he sings the opening line of the song, I’m suddenly no longer sitting on this bed in a hotel room in Texas with him. Instead, we’re sitting in the bed of his pickup truck beneath a blanket of July stars twinkling against the midnight sky.
As if I can’t help but do so, I join him, singing in perfect harmony. Our voices shouldn’t blend together so beautifully after all this time, but they do. Almost like we’ve been performing together for years instead of the reality of our situation.
Even as I get lost in our song, I don’t take my eyes off his. I’m branding this moment to memory, knowing with absolute certainty this will be what I think of to get me through the hardest of times about to come my way.
My body inches closer to his with each verse, and by the closing lines of the song, I’m nearly on his lap—my chest pressed against his upper arm and one of my crossed legs resting atop his thigh closest to me.
When the final chord hangs between us, our mouths are only a breath away. I can nearly taste his sweet, mintyness. And when he licks his lips with his eyes locked on my mouth, I decide to throw caution to the wind.
“Taevin! We need to go. Now,” Kyle booms from the other side of the door. Squeezing my eyes shut, I curse under my breath. The interruption working like a bucket of cool water being dropped over the two of us.
I just about kissed my husband. My first and only love. Undoubtedly the one who got away. But it’s only because of my decisions that we’re in this situation. If I had chosen differently—picked him over anything else—there’s no doubt in my mind we could’ve been everything.
But I didn’t. So we aren’t.