HeartStrings

by Savannah Kade

  She stood there almost dumbfounded as he slowly tipped the sleeping child onto his broad shoulder. It clearly wasn't the practiced movement that she had, but he tried. He was gentle, patient.

  In her head a dozen scenes flipped through her thoughts. Craig asking Owen what he was reading and listening with interest as Owen explained the plot in excruciating detail. He never suggested that Owen was reading pussy books because he liked dragons now. Owen read books with female characters as the lead, and Craig reacted exactly the same.

  When Aaron was hurt, Craig was the best at soothing him. He even had a routine—check the left arm, then the right, left leg next, followed by the right. The two would methodically look Aaron over and catalog anything that needed to be done. They would then get Band-Aids or declare him boo-boo-free. But in her head Shay saw again when he’d set Aaron on the couch with a foot he'd probably bruised. Craig had fetched an ace bandage, carefully wrapping the little ankle. Aaron had been so enamored by the elastic bandage that the hurt had completely disappeared by the time it was wrapped.

  Craig had parenting books beside his bed. They were always marked in different places because he hadn't put them there for show. They weren't bait for her. He hadn't even told her he was reading them. But when she complemented him, he told her he'd just been trying to learn. He didn't take much credit when he'd been better to her boys in two weeks than either of their fathers had been to them in years.

  So she stood there with Aaron heavy over her shoulder, and she looked up at Craig as he closed the door to the truck, trying not to wake Owen. When her son jostled a little at the sound, Craig's free hand went to the boy's back. As she watched, Owen laced his arms around Craig's tattooed neck.

  The dam broke.

  It felt like she’d been holding it back for so long. But she couldn't hold it back any longer. "I love you."

  Craig stopped dead in the cold night air. "What?"

  He was going to make her say it again. The first time had been easy. Too easy. It had fallen out by mistake. But a second time? She gulped. "I love you."

  She'd said it, out loud, she was sure, but Craig still just stared at her. Then, with a dazed look on his face that she really couldn't interpret, he turned and went up the walk, calling back to her, "It's cold. Let's get them inside."

  On numb feet and with a numb brain, she followed him to the door, where he stepped back and let her unlock it. Only then did she realize he'd never asked her for a key. Dread settled in the pit of her stomach, as she pushed into the warm air. Then she realized she'd never asked for a key to his place either.

  He followed her quietly down the hall to the boys' room. Making tandem motions to hers, he pulled back the covers and laid Owen onto the bed before pulling off his shoes and tucking him in. Her task was a little more complicated—Aaron needed an overnight diaper still.

  Craig made a quick motion to her that he would be out in the living room waiting. Her brain ran a thousand miles per hour. She was only renting, month-to-month even. So she could break the lease and get moved in somewhere else before the boys started school. Not that that was fair to them in any sense, but she could do it. What was Craig thinking out there?

  He hadn't said anything. Just stared at her like she'd suddenly said, "I like cows" or something equally inane. What if he didn't feel the same way? Or worse, what if he didn't know? At least if he didn't love her, she could pack up her broken heart in cardboard boxes and move it to the next state with all her other belongings. But if he didn't know? How should she handle that? Just wait around to see if he fell in love with her?

  It seemed to take forever to get Aaron wrestled into the diaper without waking him. Shay could swear she heard Craig pacing in the other room. That couldn't be good.

  Sure enough, after she'd covered her son and snuck backward out of the room, closing the door gently behind her though her heart pounded, she turned to find Craig doing exactly that. He paced away from her and when he hit the dining table, he made an abrupt turn and spotted her. He came to a military precise stop and stared at her again.

  Shit. Bad move, Shay, bad move. Her heart thudded slowly to nothing and she quit breathing. For a moment, no one said anything, then she opened her mouth to speak, only to hear his voice.

  "Say it again."

  Jesus. He was putting her through the wringer. She almost told him so, but she didn't have the energy to tell him off, or even just to tell him to leave. So when she opened her mouth, the words came out again, as though, if she said them enough, he'd say them back. The sound was dejected, even to her own ears. She'd given up. "I love you."

  He stepped up to her, face to face, not touching other than where he'd suddenly reached out and grabbed her hands. His were warm, nervous, shaking. So was his voice. "No one has ever said that to me before."

  Her eyes blinked, her brain stopped. She was stunned. "No one?"

  He shook his head.

  Now her brain and her mouth flew. "I know you grew up in foster care, but no one?"

  He shook his head again as though that was all he would say, but then his mouth started making words, too. Shay pushed to listen, hard. What was monumental to her was beyond earth-shattering to him. No wonder he hadn't simply responded back there on the sidewalk. Then his words overrode her busy thoughts.

  "My case workers told me they would keep me safe." He took a breath in. "Some of the families, the good ones, said they would take care of me. Some said they even liked having me there. But most didn't."

  Holy shit.

  She didn't know how to respond, so she just said it again. "Well, I love you."

  This time when she looked at him, his stunned appearance gave way to a phantom of a smile. Shay pushed up on her toes and pulled against his hands, leaning in to kiss him.

  His mouth was hot against hers, burning with need. When he dropped her hands, she felt his fingers against the back of her head, tilting her to line up with him as his mouth opened over hers. Without her consent, her hands fisted into his shirt and her hips pushed up against his.

  Heat flooded her, bending her backward like melting metal as he leaned further into her. With her head tipped back, his mouth moved to her neck, nipping his way up to her ear, eliciting a soft sigh from her as tongue and teeth found a spot that she didn't know she had.

  His words came like fine gravel under her shoes, "I need you."

  She needed him, too. He didn't say the words. She hadn't prepared herself for this outcome, but she knew what to do with him.

  Walking backward, she tugged at his shirt, pulling him through the door to her bedroom and gently kicking it shut behind her. Muscling him around, she vaguely remembered to punch the lock button, then she fisted her hands into his shirt again and pushed him back onto her bed.

  He fell back, his eyes glued to her as she peeled her shirt, revealing a lace bra. She'd shoved all the plain ones into the back of her drawer and started buying nice ones the day after he'd told her to come to Nashville. He'd changed everything.

  She felt powerful and sexy standing over him as his eyes dilated. He watched, transfixed, as she shimmied out of her jeans, leaving only the matching lace underwear.

  "Good God, Shay." He breathed it out, and it flowed into her.

  She'd had two kids and was maybe a little overweight from the stressful life she'd been living. But this man who could pick up any cowgirl in a bar, was leaning back on his hands on her bed, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head at the sight of her. His hands reached out for her hips, grabbing her, nipping at the tops of her breasts and interfering with her plan to pull his shirt off him.

  Reaching around him, she managed to get the hem. A schoolgirl giggle escaped her as he nipped at her ribs and she thwarted a second tickle by using the shirt to wrangle him back. Then she climbed over him on the bed and started working the button on his jeans.

  "It's almost Christmas." She whispered. "Be my present."

  His hands reached out and stopped hers. "I— Jesus, Shay, st
op."

  She stilled. He was obviously turned on, so why . . . ?

  "I—" He sucked in air, breathing heavily. "I don't have any . . . protection."

  It hit her that he'd always supplied the condoms. "Craig, I have some."

  "Oh, thank God."

  But she didn't move. "I have something else. I went on the pill after I left here last time. It's been a month. I got tested." She waited a beat, when he didn't fill it, she continued. "I don't need condoms anymore. You?"

  He reached up for her, the words gushing out as his hands found her skin. "I’ve been tested. I'm clean. Holy shit, and merry Christmas."

  She laughed then, joy and humor hitting her in the same wave, as her hands went back to work peeling his jeans, this time with help from him.

  His hands fumbled her bra, his voice rasping, "I love this, but I like it better off." Then he pushed her underwear down, too, his mouth roving over her as she scooted the two of them back onto the bed.

  Not waiting any longer, she took him in hand and pushed down onto his waiting erection. She gasped at the feel of him, hard and heavy inside her. His breath rushed out at the contact, reminding her body to move. Then, even as they continued in their rhythm, even as his breath escaped in measured groans, she grabbed his face in her hands and said it again. "I love you."

  Craig stayed there, hands on her hips, moving her against him, his eyes on hers as his pace picked up. "Again."

  She said it for him again, and again, each time he asked until words were beyond her. She came in a flurry of cries and electricity, her body rocking against his, some deep level of her soul aware that he was coming, too.

  Her nails raked his back, clutching him even as she collapsed forward and he tipped them both backward until he was lying flat with Shay sprawled on top of him.

  Her face nestled in the crook of his neck. He smelled of sweat and sex and the man she loved. His hand came into her hair, the other cupping her ass as he breathed heavily. "I want to stay."

  "I want you to. It's Christmas." Her chest still heaved with the effort of the words.

  Slowly, her breathing died down to a more normal rate. His hands stroked her hair, her back, making her feel loved. She hadn't been prepared for this. She wasn't prepared when his hands stilled, holding her in place.

  "Shay, I've thought it so many times. I've known for a while now, but I've never said it before, so give me a minute."

  Her arms clenched around him as her heart thudded in her chest again. Tears leaked and hit the sheets behind his shoulder before he got it out. He did it one word at a time.

  "I."

  "Love."

  "You."

  Chapter 32

  This time Craig hit the tour bus with both a lighter and a heavier heart. Lighter because Shay put Owen on the school bus, then dropped Aaron at daycare, then shirked her sewing for the morning to come tell him goodbye.

  She did it with style, too. Interrupting his packing by stripping to show off her new underwear, which she then didn't wear for long. He'd never had sex before without a condom, and he was grateful or he would have become one of those assholes who didn't want to use them. Or maybe it was just because it was Shay.

  Each time she came to him, each time she said yes when he went to her, felt better than the time before. She assured him that they could have reunion sex when he returned home from the tour, then she screamed his name. Repeatedly.

  He grinned down at her, propped on one elbow, "I think the neighbors heard you."

  "I think they maybe heard you, cowboy." She swatted at him and he rolled over even though he didn't want to. Once he'd gotten to Nashville and gotten a real job, he'd never been late for anything. He hadn't even asked to change shifts until it was for a gig for Wilder. He wasn't one to show up late to rehearsals despite the fact that he went out drinking and partying just as often as TJ, who occasionally rolled in a little past start time.

  Shay always tempted him. But now she pushed against his arm. "You have to get ready. I hate that you have to go, but you have to go." She pushed up onto her elbows, grinning at him. Naked.

  He grinned back until her expression changed and she asked, "What's that noise?"

  "Shit!" He yelled and ran naked into the living room where Gunnar had one of his sneakers in his paws. No longer quite so small, the dog had his jaws clamped on the back of the shoe and worked a piece of it off as he made satisfied little sounds at his accomplishment.

  Craig would have been furious about the rip, but he could clearly see it wasn't the first. The dog had been at it a while. Searching the room for Scarlett, Craig found her sitting in the corner with a rope toy. He petted her and gave her a treat before putting his fingers in Gunnar's jaw and opening them the way the book had demonstrated it. He pulled out the ruined shoe and got angry at the puppy.

  He shook the shoe in the little dog's face. "No. Shoe is mad!" Then he bonked Gunnar's paws with the shoe, one at a time until the puppy was afraid of the shoe. "No shoe!" He spoke in a low angry voice, then picked up the pieces and threw all of it into the trash with a weary sigh.

  When he stood and turned away, he caught Shay, respectfully back in her underwear, standing at the bedroom door with her hand over her mouth to hide her giggles.

  "Hey. Don't." He scolded her, too. "That hurts to be mad at my dog. And right before I leave, too."

  Her arms wound around his neck. "Trust me, I know exactly how it feels. But the shoe being mad at him was just . . ."

  "Shut up." He brushed her aside, a smile on his face as she giggled one last time. "It's what the book said to do."

  He shrugged into his traveling clothes—loose jeans, an old t-shirt, and . . . Dammit. "The dog ate the sneakers I was going to wear." He rummaged around under the bed until he found an older pair that would suit and shoved his feet into them. Then he looked at the clock, trying to calculate whether there was possibly time for one more go round with the nymph in the lace underwear. Sadly, there wasn't. "I have to go. Use your key to lock up?"

  She nodded at him and he did all the last minute things he normally did, but this time with Shay watching. He put the puppies into the crate, a harder job each time because they were always just a little bigger than before, and the opening seemed a little smaller. Gunnar walked in on his own, his head hanging. Craig couldn't resist giving each of them a good rub behind the ears. He couldn't leave Gunnar that way.

  Then he filled their bowls, set timers on the lights, checked all the knobs on the stove, and so on. At last he put his guitar into his traveling case and slung his old duffel bag over his shoulder and turned to find Shay still waiting in the entry to the hallway, still not dressed. "Jesus, you are going to ruin me for this trip."

  She smiled and pressed a kiss to his lips. "Travel safe. Call often. And remember, I love you."

  "I love you, too." He turned away, biting his lower lip. It got easier each time he said it. It still wasn't something that just rolled off his tongue, but it didn't take deep breaths between each word like it had that first time. Knowing it and saying it had been two different things. He was settling into it.

  He climbed behind the wheel and pulled out of the driveway without looking back. For the first time in his life, he believed someone would be waiting when he got home. Not just the dogs, but a person who loved him. This time he drove to pick up JD, then TJ, then Alex, and the four of them stuffed their crap under the tarp in the back of the truck and headed to the airport. They were flying in to meet the bus in Sacramento. It had headed out days ago, and they'd ride together back across a northern route. Eight days. It never used to seem so long.

  They arrived a handful of hours later and went straight to the arena, where they headed to the suites backstage. Invigorated by his morning romp, Craig had been running music in his head all during the flight. Once dressing rooms were assigned, he pulled JD aside and took over a lounge area, forcing his friend and bandmate to listen to what he'd already picked out. He had a few lines of lyrics as well, incl
uding the one that had come to him when talking with Shay: I was just picking my heart up off the floor where it's been since I last saw you. It took a moment to get back into that frame of mind for the song.

  "That goes in the beginning." JD told him, "where the song is sadder. It gets better at the end. Maybe we can alter the lyrics to be the same-ish."

  Craig understood, and they played around with words for a while. When that failed, they picked out harmonies until it was time to head to the stage for sound check. After the show, they hit the waiting bus and Craig fell fast asleep to the familiar rumble of wheels below him.

  The next morning, he called Shay. Saturday. It meant the boys were up and in the background. It meant he couldn't say anything dirty to her, but he enjoyed the sound of her voice. "Owen is almost through that huge book you got him for Christmas!"

  "Which one?"

  "The first one in the dragon series."

  For Christmas, he’d printed up color covers of a book series about a boy and a dragon. Then he'd done the same for a book on elf and gnome wars after the fall of man. Then added a few others recommended by a librarian for a high-level reading almost-seven-year-old. Owen had opened the biggest box under the tree and found all the book covers.

  "Where are the books?" He'd asked Craig.

  "Go open your kindle." When they'd started opening presents he'd pulled his phone out and hit send on the order, automatically loading all the books into the device while Owen was opening other gifts. Watching Owen's face light up as he scrolled through all his new books had been worth it.

  "That's impressive." He told Shay over the phone. "That's a big book."

  "He loves it. It was brilliant."

  Aaron had been given a set of Legos that fit his hands. Only Craig had gone a little over the top with that, too, buying way too many sets. In front of the boys, he'd given Shay a purse he'd seen her admire once in a window. But later he'd given her other gifts, including a key to his house.

  "I met with a realtor today." Her voice sounded breathy and excited, but his heart sank. She still wanted a house separate from him.