by R. C. Martin
“Fuck,” I grunt, leaning down to touch my forehead to hers. I reach up and grip the back of her neck with my hands, squeezing her affectionately. “I’m sorry, doll face.”
She doesn’t say anything for a moment, but runs her hands up and down my sides as she continues to stare into my eyes. I wonder if we’ve freaked her out—if she won’t accept my apology. It worries me. What she just saw was child’s play when it comes to my parents and me.
“Pepper was right,” she finally speaks. “They worry about you.” She hums a laugh, but I can tell it’s void of any humor. “It’s kind of beautiful.”
“What?” I ask, lifting my head just slightly, not understanding what she could mean.
“My mother and I used to fight a lot. It was never about me. I might have been the subject of the argument, but it was never about me. What I just witnessed…it was about you.”
“Baby—” I start to disagree, but she interrupts me.
“Trust me, they don’t want to see you fail. I get where you’re coming from. I’m on your side. I support you and you know that,” she insists, gripping my shirt in her fists. “But they are fighting for you. I know that it doesn’t feel like it, and in a lot of ways, I think they’re wrong. But they can’t see around the reality of how few people make it the way that you want to. Their ability to see around that reality is hindered by their lack of control. But you—my dreamer…” A small smile plays at her lips before she pushes herself up on her tiptoes and brushes her mouth against mine in a soft kiss. “You’ve never let statistics stand in your way. You’re not a quitter. Not to mention, you know what you’re capable of—and I know that what lies within you is only going to grow brighter. You just have to show them that.
“You guys will fight until you have nothing to fight about. Or until you find something else to fight about. They’ll argue with you until you show them that you are more than capable of doing this. They’re just worried. They don’t want the world to swallow you up. I can see it in their eyes—their love for you. It’s…beautiful.”
By the time she’s done speaking, her eyes have grown glassy with tears. As I admire her, letting her words take root, I feel my frustration from before evaporating into nothing. In this moment, I realize that that argument—every argument we’ve ever had, every argument we will have—it’s a byproduct of the love they have for me and the love I have for music. They clash—but it’s with a passion that I hope we never lose.
Just now, Millie has made me appreciate it more than I ever have before.
“Millicent,” I whisper, running my thumbs across her cheeks. She blinks, fighting her tears as she draws in a deep breath. At a loss for words, I decide to kiss her instead. “I love you,” I murmur against her lips.
“I love you, too.”
I kiss her once more and then pull her against my chest, holding her close. She feels good in my arms, and I allow myself to breathe her in for a moment. After a few minutes of silence, I press my lips against her hair as I mumble, “We should probably get back in there.”
“Yeah. I think you’re right.”
With a sigh, I pull away from her and reach for her hand. She laces her fingers with mine and I shake my head, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.
“What’s that look for?” she asks me.
“You’re my best girl, baby doll. I’m never going to let you go.”
“Promise?”
“You bet your sweet, little ass.”
MAGIC. THAT’S WHAT Christmas is—pure magic.
When Sage and I returned to the table, he sat down and asked, “So, how about dessert?” It was hours before we actually dug into the cakes and pies that Rose helped Abrielle make last night, but his comment seemed to sweep the tension right out of the room, just like magic.
I help with the dishes after our meal, against Abrielle’s wishes; there was just no way that I was going to come into her house and celebrate with her family all day whilst contributing absolutely nothing. I was stubborn and, with Rose and Pepper’s help, I won. She gave me her apron, telling me that she wanted no part in any potential stains to my sweater, and then she supervised while the three of us ladies cleaned and stowed away leftovers.
Sage made himself comfortable in front of the television in the living room with Ewan, Harry, and Sophia, who managed to sleep through most of dinner. Pepper had fed her at the table, handing her off to Harry shortly there after so she could put the boys down for a nap upstairs.
While at the sink, my hands elbow deep in bubbles, Pepper and Rose chatting easily with their mother, I’d feel Sage’s eyes on me every few minutes. When I looked up and caught his gaze from across the room, he’d offer me his signature smirk. Like always, it made the back of my neck heat up—the thrill of simply knowing that he’s mine sending a rush of tingles down my spine.
After our kitchen duties were complete, we joined the men in the living room. Sage pulled me down next to him on the couch, wrapping his arm across my shoulders before tucking me into his side. As Pepper and Rose argued with their father about what we should all watch—basketball or a movie from their collection—I nestled against my man, taking in everything each moment had to offer.
In the end, a compromise was made. We watched basketball and a movie. And despite my lack of interest in either choice, I loved every minute of it.
Hours later, as I lay naked in Sage’s bed, wrapped up in blankets, I replay the day from start to finish. Odd as it may sound, I feel as though some of the missing pieces of my heart have suddenly been restored. There’s a part of me that’s terrified by that notion—afraid of what might happen should those little pieces be torn from me later; but there’s another part of me—a bigger part of me, that cannot help but to embrace the gift of the present. And when Sage walks back into the room in just his boxers, Maestro trailing behind him, I realize that the part of me that isn’t afraid is that part of me where Sage resides.
“You still awake?” he asks, setting his glasses on the nightstand before dropping his underwear.
“Yeah,” I whisper.
“Does that mean I didn’t wear you out enough?” he asks, slipping between the sheets as he slides into bed behind me.
I chuckle as he pulls me back against him, his hand cupping my breast as he buries his nose in my neck. “No. You did a marvelous job, I assure you.” I scoot back a little more and he tightens his hold around me. “I just didn’t want to fall asleep without you.”
He kisses my shoulder, my skin still sticky from our tumble in the sheets a few minutes ago. “Well, I’m here now,” he mumbles, kissing me a second time.
I close my eyes, and the day flashes before me once more.
“Sage?” I murmur, breaking the silence between us.
“Hmm?” he hums sleepily.
“Thank you for today,” I whisper. “It was wonderful.”
He gives my boob a squeeze, making me smile as he says, “Get used to it, baby doll.”
“DAMN—FEELS FUCKING good to be back up here.”
I grin like a fool as the room fills with the cheers of the crowd. The dance floor is packed, the whole bar buzzing with excitement, booze, and the promise of a new day—a new dawn—a new year.
Even filled to capacity, The Brew Cycle is nothing compared to most of the venues we played at during our trek across the country. As always, the dream of bigger and better is still alive and well. We want to pack stadiums all over the world. Nevertheless, tonight holds just as much significance as our last show. There’s nothing like playing for our home fans—the people who sang along with us when no one else would. For Mountains & Men, this is home, and there’s no place else I’d rather ring in the New Year.
“Is anyone having fun out there?” I ask, ignoring the sweat that drips down the side of my face. The cheers turn into screams and I chuckle, looking back at my mates. “Yeah,” I drawl into the mic. “I might be a little biased—but I think we picked the right place to party tonight.”
; Maddox sidles up next to me, propping his elbow against my shoulder. I look over at him with a sly grin and he reaches for the mic. I surrender it without question.
“Sounds kind of like you missed us.” His comment is met with a roar, and we grin at each other, eating this shit up. “Think we should give them something new?”
I frown, shrugging playfully, and they all cheer us on.
“Nothin’ like ending the year with a new jam, right?”
He smiles at me, handing back the mic before he readjusts his guitar and starts strumming the opening lick to our latest song on a loop.
“This is a little something we wrote while we were on the road,” I tell the room just as Knox adds another layer of guitar—the Bradley brothers showing off the best way they know how. “If you like what you hear, you can find it on our first album, coming out early next year. This one’s called, Anything but This.”
I nod back at Derrick and he looks over at Alex, both of them joining the groove at the same time. As JJ starts in on the keys, I scan the crowd for my girl. She’s exactly where she was the last time I locked eyes with her. I smile knowingly, watching as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Doll face—love you, baby,” I say, pointing right at her.
All the ladies in the room seem to sigh collectively. I grin, running my fingers through my hair before I begin.
“Goodbye was never meant to feel like this
The dissonance so loud/ The distance too far
Goodbye was never meant to feel like this
Moving in the dark/ Hiding in the light
Would rather you just hold on
Would rather you just give in
Would rather, baby, anything but this
“Would rather hear you scream
Would rather see you fight
Would rather taste your tears
Would rather/Would rather
Would rather, baby, anything but This
“Hello was never meant to feel like this
Heavy with regret/I’m still hoping you’ll forget
Hello was never meant to feel like this
Up against the sun/In the shadow of goodbye
Would rather you just hold me
Would rather you just stay here
Would rather, baby, anything but This.
“Would rather hear you scream
Would rather see you fight
Would rather taste your tears
Would rather/Would rather
Would rather, baby, anything but This
“The silence of This
Not ignorance, not bliss
Would rather/Would rather
Baby, anything but This.”
IT AMAZES ME that he’s able to turn the darkest part of our relationship into a song that’s so hauntingly beautiful, it makes my heart race as my skin breaks out into goosebumps. I stand perfectly still, engulfed in the mob of revelers who fill the dance floor, but totally consumed by all that is Sage. I feel desperate to catch every word, hear every phrase, and understand everything that he went through while we were apart. To say that I’m relieved that we’re so far away from This is an understatement.
“Holy fuck,” cries Violet into my ear as the song comes to an end. “That song was amazing—I’m really glad you two didn’t break up, like, really glad—but, wow!”
I can’t help but laugh as I turn to look into her eyes. She grins at me, hooking her arm through mine before she nods up at the stage.
“We get to call those men ours. How lucky are we?”
I sigh wistfully, directing my gaze back up to the stage. Sage looks so incredible up there—his shirt damp with sweat, clinging to his chest and back, reminding me of all the tatted gloriousness that resides underneath. As he throws his left arm in the air, his colorful sleeve of ink glistening in the stage light, all I can think about is what it feels like to be wrapped up in him.
He swivels his hips suggestively, and feeling a bit tipsy and turned on, I imagine the strong legs and the long, thick cock those fitted jeans cover up. Then he smiles mischievously, pushing his glasses up his nose, and my pussy pulses with need. I swear to God, no one could rock those horn-rimmed frames and look as drop dead sexy as the one and only Sage Lawrence McCoy.
My dreamer.
My sexy as hell rocker.
My love.
They play for another twenty minutes, all of us in the crowd dancing, singing, and enjoying every fucking moment. It’s beyond hot out on the dance floor, and I’m glad I decided to ring in the New Year in a dress more befitting of the occasion than the weather. The spaghetti strap, rose gold, sequin slip dress I’ve got on has just enough fabric to cover me from my boobs to my ass. Tonight, I wanted to look pretty. I also wanted to drive Sage crazy, exposing as much of my long legs as possible. I even bought a pair of red, platform stiletto heels to make them look even longer. I braided the front of my hair, adding a little character to my ponytail, leaving my neck and shoulders on display as well. I did it all for Sage—but in the middle of this throng of people, I’m grateful I’m not covered up in a sweater dress.
The band is more in sync than I’ve ever heard them—which is saying a whole hell of a lot—and it hits me that this is the first time I’ve heard them play since the last time they played in Fort Collins. I shove aside the memories of why I didn’t see them perform when I was in L.A., and instead, I stand in awe of what six weeks together on a bus, focusing on their music, has done to them.
By the time their set is finished, it’s almost midnight, and their fans are screaming, begging for an encore. They’re off stage just long enough to tease us, and then they hurry back to their instruments, Sage clutching the microphone from where it rests in its stand.
“Really? You really want one more?” Sage quips.
“Encore! Encore! Encore!”
He laughs, the sound making my belly warm.
“Okay—one condition. It’s just about midnight.” The patrons cheer at the news. Speaking through his smile Sage says, “I’m gonna need my girl up here for this one.”
My stomach drops, the warmth I felt a moment ago turning into a pang of nerves.
“What do you say, JJ? Think we need a little back up?”
I don’t notice as JJ responds, distracted by the giddy squeal of Violet from beside me as she grabs my hand and starts pulling me toward the stage.
Shit!
I try to get my feet to stop, but once the audience catches on that we’re the backup that Sage is referring to, they usher us encouragingly to our final destination.
“Oh, shit—I almost forgot. Adrian, you out there, man? Guys, give it up for Adrian—our brother from Lawful Sinners!”
The crowd applauds, parting like the Red Sea as they allow him to pass through them to the front. He winks at me once he’s reached us, and then he says, “Need a lift?” Before I can register what it is that he’s doing, his hands are around my waist.
“Come ‘ere, gorgeous,” says Sage so that only I can hear, reaching for my hands.
Together, they help me concur the lifted platform of the stage, both of them helping Violet up next. Adrian manages on his own, an advantage he earned by dressing in jeans and boots tonight. He makes his way to the far side of the stage, headed straight for Alex. Apparently, they’re now a couple—a recent development. In this moment, I wish I could join him, out of the center stage spotlight. However, Sage has me by the hand, and he’s not letting go.
“Who’s ready to ring in the New Year Mountains & Men style?” he calls out.
I look down at our conjoined hands, certain that there’s an electric current flowing through him—almost as if his very presence sparks all around him.
“This is a favorite of mine. Sing along if you know it.”
When the music starts, I recognize the song right away. As Sage begins to sing, their fans start to sing with him. Only, while Sage leads them through the lyrics, he sings them to me. He sings me my song. Then, when he st
arts to dance with me, everything else grows a little dimmer, all my attention focused in on my man. His hand still wrapped around mine, he spins me so that I’m facing away from him, hooking my arm around my waist as he pulls me back against his front. He moves his hips, guiding mine as he sings:
“Can’t stop the beat, can’t stop my feet, just want to dance
I’ll set you free, but will you let me go?
You cage me in and now I can’t let go.
All night/One song
This room/My home
Set me free but, baby, don’t let go
Tonight/ Just give me tonight.”
At some point in the middle of the song, the clock strikes midnight, but the band plays on. I don’t mind a single bit, for I cannot imagine a better way to start the year—in my lover’s arms, lost in his icy blue gaze as he sings to me with his rich, alluring, sexy tenor voice.
As soon as the song is over, he abandons the microphone, spinning me around before he crushes my body against his. He then takes my lips in a hard, deep, long, wet kiss that makes me weak at the knees. I cling to him, no longer feeling self-conscious standing center stage. All I feel is his tongue tangled with mine, his hands squeezing me tight, his hard cock pressed against my stomach through his jeans.
All I feel is Sage.
All I feel is love.
SHE TASTES LIKE GIN, and she feels like a sin for which I do not wish to be forgiven.
As the band and I come back inside from out of the cold, the trailer loaded up with all of our gear, memories of my midnight kiss still make my dick twitch. I shiver, having left my coat out in the car; but as we emerge from backstage, the warmth of the crowded room washes over me. I head directly for the bar, ready for a drink, thirsty for my girl.
Once we’ve waded through the masses, the guys and I are all served right away—our drinks on the house. I order a beer for myself and a gin and tonic for Millie before I go hunting. I find her a few minutes later, at a table with Rosy, her roommate, Sami, and Violet. Her back is to me, so I walk up right behind her, molding my body around hers as I set her drink down.
