by Rye Hart
“All right. I know that sound. Spill,” she said.
“It’s bad that you know that sound. I’ve only worked here a week,” I said.
“It’s that man of yours, isn’t it? Girl, he’s a hunk.”
“Yeah, I know,” I sighed. “But he can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”
“All men are pains in our asses, hon,” Stacia chuckled. “But we love 'em anyway.”
“Love? Who said anything about love?” I giggled, trying to hide the color rising in my cheeks.
Stacia gave me a look that said she could see right through me.
“My question still stands, hon. Now, what’s goin’ on with you and Mr. Chiseled Jeans?” she asked.
“He’s trying to control my every move,” I said. “Where I go. What I do. Where I sleep. I told you about the fight we had yesterday with just me leaving the house. Now he’s upset that I didn’t go back last night.”
“Can ya blame him? You call him cryin’ from a hospital bed ‘bout bein’ pregnant with his kid, he comes a’runnin,’ then you just wanna shove him away again? You’re throwin’ the poor man under the bus for wantin’ to protect ya.”
“He’s not protecting me. He’s controlling me.”
“Potato, Potat-oh. Same damn difference,” she said.
“What does that mean?”
“In his eyes, he is protecting you. He's scared shitless, girl, because he loves you and doesn't want to lose you. Maybe he's not goin' about it in the right ways, sure... You're independent, so of course if freaks ya out, but it's nothin' you can't work out. Take me and my man for instance - we have a routine. Breakfast on the table by seven, I usually cook. Nice strong coffee for him, oatmeal for me. We shower together, touch base durin' lunch to make sure the other one's doin' fine. Then I come home, and he's already started on dinner, whatever he's in the mood for. We cuddle on the couch, maybe some evening lovin' and then we sleep.” ”
“Every day? And you just—let him make all those decisions for you?” I asked.
“Who the hell said he made all those decisions? Girl, we came up with that schedule together. That’s what you do in a relationship. That man wanted you to come to his home so he could cook you some dinner and make sure you were okay. That’s all.”
“He wanted to keep me there on Monday. He didn’t want me coming into work,” I said.
“Until a doctor cleared you, that's all. Because he was worried about you, hon. Not because he wanted to keep you captive.”
I shook my head and got back to work, but she had a point. A relationship was give and take, and while I thought he was doing all the taking, that wasn’t really what was happening. It would take conversations to figure this stuff out, and we couldn’t have those conversations if I was avoiding him.
So, during lunch, I talked with Stacia about another issue I had.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” she said.
“The father of my child—”
“We gonna act like I don’t know who that is?” she asked.
“Can we?”
“Girl, if we can’t even mention the man’s name, then let’s address that. You’re scared, hun.”
“I’m not scared. Just wary of things getting out to the media.”
“Sweetie, if I wanted to run to the media, I’da done it this weekend. You can’t say his name, then we’re gonna address that first,” she said.
“Fine. Drake. He’s a bit—forceful.”
“Uh huh. Forceful how?” she asked.
“Just sort of—kisses me out of the blue. Picks me up and tosses me onto his bed. Tells me what to do and expects me to listen. He just thinks I should—follow his lead.”
“He's dominant, a bit of an alpha male. What’s your point?”
“That’s not good, right?”
“Depends. How do you feel about it?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Girl, are you givin’ into him because you like it, or givin’ into him because you think he’ll hurt you if ya don’t? Because if you like it, then what’s the problem? And if it’s the latter, we don’t need to be talkin’, you need to be leaving his ass.”
I thought about her question for a minute. Did I like it when Drake manhandled me?
“I guess I like it,” I said.
“You don’t even know what you like?”
“Okay, okay. Yes. I like it. But I just—”
I sighed, as I put my head in my hands, trying to calm my raging mind.
“Girl, you got some stuff to work through. You’re scared, plain and simple. Scared of intimacy. Scared of bein’ with him. Scared of takin’ a chance. And no one’s blaming you for that. But you gotta own up to it. You gotta admit that to him. Because I bet if you do, you’ll find he’s scared, too. Just like you are.”
“Drake never gets scared,” I said.
“Was he scared when you were in that hospital bed? Because it sure as hell sounded like it from the way Mr. Hart was talkin’.”
It was like that every day for two solid weeks. Every day Drake was gone, I opened up more and more about my hesitations and reservations about being with him. And every day, she had more advice for me. She treated me like a friend but talked to me like a mother. She gave me advice that was hard to hear, but also included things I needed to think about. I treasured those lunch hours with her. It helped me to sift through my emotions and see the ways I was going wrong, even though Drake was going wrong as well.
Clearing my head with Stacia allowed me to focus more on my work. And because of that better focus, Mr. Hart pulled me into his office. He told me that he was so impressed with the way I treated patients after their appointments that he was going to assign me my first client to work with. I would have a regularly established time with them during the week. Mr. Hart would allow me to use his office to conduct the weekly meetings. I would be allowed to offer plans of action so long as he approved them beforehand.
And if all went well with my first client, then he would give me another one.
I was ecstatic, and so immersed in my work that the two weeks without Drake flew right on by. I wrapped up things with the P.A. company and received my last paycheck from them just as I was preparing to work with my first client. Thankfully, the nausea I’d been experiencing was finally lifting.
The night of the concert came around.
It had been a long day at work and all I wanted to do was rest. I wanted to kick my heels off, put my feet up, and watch mindless television while eating takeout Chinese off my stomach. But Stacia’s words kept echoing off the chambers of my mind. I could hear her calling me scared, telling me I was running instead of making things work, that I had issues I needed to sift through with him and that I would always be connected to him, so I might as well make the best of it. I tried to block out her words as I turned on the television, but the louder I turned it up, the louder her voice screamed in the back of my mind.
I had to face things head on. If this was going to work with Drake and I, then I needed to show him that I was willing to work on things with myself.
He was trying, and now it was my turn to give him the same courtesy.
CHAPTER 33
Drake
Two Weeks Later
Two weeks on the damn road with no one to keep me company but Hank. No Landon. No Stone. And certainly, no Delia. I called her every night to see how she was doing, but mostly she steered the conversation away from herself and onto me. It was frustrating as hell and it made me wanna scream, but I got where she was coming from. Hank and I had engaged in a few heated discussions while on the road. Conversations that spring boarded from the dose of truth he threw at me in my driveway a couple weeks ago. I didn’t want to admit that I was treating Delia that way. I was worried about her and I wanted to do what was best for her.
I didn’t want to admit that giving her space was probably what she needed right now. She was pregnant and vulnerable, but she was also strong and s
mart and capable. I was just so damn scared of losing her and that baby, it consumed my every waking thought.
So, I gave her space as best as I could. I missed her, which was new for me. Sure, I missed Elsie while on the road, but no one else had mattered to me since I started touring.
I was really looking forward to being home in Nashville. It was my last performance and the tour had gone well with lots of good press, which made Hank very happy. But mostly, lots of happy fans despite the fact that I didn’t have my band. There were no giant speakers to hop up on and no pointing out to women in the crowd. I didn’t have my signature six-pack on stage and I wasn’t guzzling down alcohol until I couldn’t remember anything.
I was performing clear-headed, acoustic concerts. And I was having the time of my life, musically speaking.
We rolled into Nashville and I drew in a deep breath of that clear country air. I had no idea if Delia was going to actually show up tonight. I hoped she did. I prayed she did. But with the conversations I’d had with Hank over the past two weeks, it wouldn’t have shocked me if she didn’t.
So when I rounded the corner to gain access to the back area of the stage and saw Delia standing with Hank, my heart leapt with joy. A grin spread across my cheeks as her eyes connected with mine. I walked over to Hank and put my hand on his chest, pushing him out of the small room before I slammed the door in his face. I turned toward Delia, raking my eyes up and down her form as she smiled back at me.
That innocent little smile that lit up her eyes.
I strode over to her, taking her in my arms as our lips crashed together. My hands were all over her. Cupping her luscious breasts. Cradling the small pooch of her stomach. Swallowing her moans as my tongue raked across the roof of her mouth. I settled her onto the couch backstage, our presence cut off from everyone as our lips melded together. Our teeth clattered as her legs spread for me, her body no longer fighting what it so desperately wanted.
Our foreheads connected as we came up for air, panting and heaving as our eyes fluttered open.
“Nice to see you, too,” Delia said.
“Wasn’t sure you’d come,” I said.
“I wanted to see you.”
I cupped her face and ran my thumb across her cheek. Her skin was soft andit sent electric jolts down my arm. She had awakened me. She made being sober worth it. Remembering every changing inch of her and committing her sounds to memory wasn’t possible when I was drunk. But now it was, and I was thankful for it.
“I missed you,” Delia said.
“I missed you, too,” I said.
“I just needed some time to think on things.”
“Like how much you can’t resist me?” I asked.
She swatted my ass playfully as I chuckled into her cheek. I allowed my lips to trace the curve of her neck, committing her changing scent to memory. eyes I slid my hand over her small baby bump underneath the dress she’d worn to the performance and I smiled into her shoulder.
“You can swat at it all you want later,” I said, with a grin. “Right now, I gotta show to do.”
I stood up and I held my hand out to her. She took it without a second thought, allowing me to help her off the couch. Delia fixed her dress as I smoothed my hands over my shirt, then I picked up my bucket hat she’d knocked off my head. I grabbed my guitar from the corner and threaded my arm through the strap, slinging it over my shoulder as Delia’s eyes danced along my body.
“Come on. I found you and Hank a seat so you don’t have to be backstage,” I said.
I walked out onto the stage and my eyes found hers. She was grinning up at me, her leg crossed over her knee as she clapped for me. I started into my set, beginning with the most painful song I'd ever written, the one I wrote after losing Shannon and Ava. The crowd was singing along as tears stained their faces, my fingers strumming my guitar as I sang to Delia.
I sang song after song, just me and my guitar. Delia’s eyes were on me the entire time, and my eyes never wavered from hers. I sang my heart out for her. I poured my soul out onto the stage for her. I wanted her to see that I was serious. I wanted her to see that I wanted this with her. Despite our differences we had incredible similarities; loss and addiction, passions and goals. We understood each other’s hurt in a way no other person in our lives could understand, and I wasn’t ready to lose that.
I wasn’t ready to lose the love I knew she had for me. Even if she wasn’t willing to admit it yet. And I wasn’t ready to lose the love I had for her. I couldn’t help but revel in the miracle of it all.
As I strummed the last chord of my last song, the crowd went wild. Delia leapt to her feet, clapping her hands over her head as she smiled. Seeing her that happy at something I could do warmed my chest. It spread a grin across my cheeks as I stood, taking a bow right toward her. My eyes left hers for only a moment, enough to dip my head and surrender completely to her.
Then I rose back up, finding her gaze again as her hands fell to her sides.
I raced into the crowd and took her by the hand. I handed my guitar over to Hank as a smile spread across his face. I tugged her from the crowd as they chanted my name, cheering Delia and I on as we ran from the arena. My legs carried me as fast as I could as she squealed behind me, trying to keep up as she yelled for me to slow down.
But I didn’t want to slow down.
I wanted her all to myself as fast as I could get it.
I picked her up in my arms as her arms threaded around my neck. I walked us toward my truck that I’d convinced Hank to let me drive. I was glad I convinced him that the bus was overkill. There was no need for it since it was just him and I on the road. But the real reason why I didn’t wanna ride on that bus was because I knew it would be a trigger. All the ragers Stone and Landon and I had thrown, all the women we had fucked in those beds, all the alcohol we had stored in that fridge.
It would’ve swung me back to drinking in a heartbeat.
I piled her into my truck as she giggled her little head off. I shut the door beside her and ran around, trying to beat the crowd out of the stadium. I hopped in and pulled her close to me, my lips planting squarely onto hers. Her hand came up and cupped my cheek as her lips allowed me entrance again, and I groaned as I tasted the sweetness of her mouth.
I pulled back and looked deep into her eyes as her fingers danced along the nape of my neck.
“You’re kidnapping me again, aren’t you?” Delia asked with a grin.
“And if I am?”
She leaned over and planted a kiss to the tip of my nose as my arms cradled her closely to my chest.
“Better hurry,” she said. “I think your fans have spotted us.”
I could hear throngs of women chanting for me as I sped out of the parking space. I raced through the parking lot, dodging cars and people as we sped away from the venue. We sped out onto the main road, making our way for the highway with the windows rolled down and the radio turned up high. I looked over at Delia, watching as her long legs spread out over my dashboard as she kicked her boots off.
She wiggled her cute little toes in the breeze of the night as her hand slid next to mine. I took a chance and threaded our fingers together, the warmth of my skin communicating more than my lips ever could.
And she squeezed my hand as her eyes watched the world pass us by.
This was it.
This was what I had been looking for.
This was the life I would stay sober for. No matter what it took.
CHAPTER 34
Delia
I woke up the next morning with Drake’s arm and leg squishing me. He had curled up around my body, holding me as tightly as he could. I could feel his breath on my skin, his stubble against my back. His lips were mindlessly pressing kisses on the nape of my neck, like he cherished me even in his sleep. His leg slipped over me, baring his knee as my hands traced the outline of his muscles.
But then they fumbled over the scars left behind from his accident.
I opened my eyes and
began studying them. He’d told me about it the last weekend we spent together, but I hadn’t asked to see the scars. I’d never taken the time after our nights of passion to seek them out. But now that I had, tears were rising to my eyes.
The scars were long and thick, shining but faded, marking the fact that he’d lived with them for years. I smoothed my fingers along their edges, trying to imagine the horrific pain he must’ve been in. I could only imagine what the weight of a tractor would feel like crushing my leg.
I felt Drake nuzzle his nose between my shoulders. His hands ran up and down my curves as my fingers continued to trace his knee. He jerked underneath my movements, quickly removing his leg before he understood what was going on.
He placed a sleepy kiss to my shoulder, pulling my mind away from his knee and onto other parts of his anatomy.
I could feel his cock pressing into my ass, sliding between my cheeks as I rocked back into him. His hand migrated down to my stomach, cupping the small paunch I had sitting behind my belly button. I felt my body coming alive for him. I felt my nipples standing at attention. His lips nipped at my skin as his muscles pressed deeper into my back, his hips rolling as his cock slid between my legs.
Trembling, I realized I was giving into him with every jolt of electricity that surged through my body. I tilted my head back, capturing his warm lips in a sloppy kiss. My hand reached back for his hair, tangling my fingers in the tendrils he kept growing out. I loved the shaggy hair on him. I loved the leverage it gave me to pull his face closer to mine.
His hand drifted down my body, then slid up my thigh. My panties created the only barrier between us, and I knew he wanted to rid me of them. I could feel it in the way he kissed me. The way he buzzed for me. I could feel it in the way he pulled my ass closer to his body as his dick pulsed between my thighs. I slid my leg over his, opening my body to him as I sighed into his lips.
Then, I felt him pull my panties off to the side.
“You’re so warm for me,” Drake said.
I shivered as his words caressed the shell of my ear.
He slid into me, every inch slowly penetrating my body. I moaned and groaned, my body arching into him as I clung tighter to his hair. His teeth sank into my shoulder, freezing me in my spot as he sank to his hilt. I felt his fingertips playing with my folds, teasing my clit as his cock melded with the fluttering walls of my dripping slit.
