by K. G. Reuss
Missing the man I love while he sleeps is heart-wrenching. He rescued me. He’s my knight in shining armor. My muse. He’s awakened the music I thought was dead.
He’s the inspiration behind the song I’m working on. One random lyric popped into my head down in the cafeteria a few days ago. Then the floodgates burst open. Words rushed forth so fast, I had to write them on brown, recyclable napkins with a pen I borrowed from a nurse eating next to me.
The words feel right, and for once, I’m proud of it. Like giddy, ecstatic, uninhibited dancing kind of proud. I’ve been tweaking the melody and pace, and now it’s perfect.
I hope Carter likes the song I wrote about him. About us.
I tuck my guitar back in its case and prop it against its designated resting place for the last few weeks. If he wakes when I’m not here, he’ll see it and know I’m coming back soon. My lips touch his, and I’m happy to feel their warmth.
I whisper against them, “Tomorrow. Please wake up tomorrow. For me, baby.” And stroke his head, the rough stubble from his surgery shave beneath my fingers, before dimming the lights and making my way to the elevator.
“Teddy,” the nurse says quietly as she wheels in her cart. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but it’s time to give Carter a bath. He’s supposed to be prepped and ready before he goes for some additional imaging tests this morning. Could you please wait in the lounge? It shouldn’t take any more than thirty minutes.”
“Sure, no problem.” I grab my guitar and bag, hauling my stuff down to the blue room at the end of the long hallway. It seems to be the least used waiting room on the floor and the furthest from the patient rooms. I sit in silence for a few minutes, wishing I hadn’t already made my phone calls to the clubs or caught up on reading emails in the solitude of my hotel room.
I pick up my guitar and strum a few lines of “Contact High” by Caitlyn Smith and soon become lost in the vibe of the song, forgetting where I’m at. When I pluck the last notes, I sling my messy hair back over my shoulders and look up to see a younger man sitting on the far side of the room.
He claps and whistles, enjoying my free concert. “What else do you have in your set? I’d love to hear some more.”
“Well, what are you in the mood for? I mostly play country, but I know lots of songs.”
“You’ve got a bluesy vibe to your voice. The grit is so raw. I’d like to hear anything you’d like to sing.”
“Thank you,” I say softly as I pluck the opening chords to “I’m the Only One” by Melissa Etheridge.
A smile spreads from ear to ear as I sing, and he leans against the hard back of his chair while his toe taps to the acoustic beat. Halfway through, I speed up the chorus and go right into “Black Horse and A Cherry Tree” by KT Tunstall. He checks his watch a few times and starts to shift in his seat, so I end the concert early.
He stands and claps again when I stop the vibration of the strings with my hands. “Are you the lady who’s been singing at night in Room 12?”
“Yes,” I say with hesitation. I unfasten my guitar strap and let it fall to my lap. “I’m so sorry if I disturbed you or who you were visiting.”
“No, please don’t apologize. On the contrary, my mother enjoys your voice. It comes through the vents and she rests more soundly after you’re done. So, thank you for that.” His warm smile eases my mind.
“I hope she’s recovering and going home soon.”
“She is recovering, but…” He looks away from me for a moment and clears his throat before continuing, “She’ll be moved to a rehabilitation facility first, then hopefully going home.” The red rims of his eyes accentuate the hopelessness in them.
“I wish her well and a speedy recovery then.” I know that feeling of hopelessness. It’s a mountain you never think you’re going to reach the summit of, but kind words from everyone pulling for Carter always help me make it through the day. Hopefully, I can pay it forward with my well wishes.
“I have to go. She should be back from physical therapy, and I don’t want to miss a moment of our time together.” He hands me a business card. “If you ever need someone like me, give me a call.”
“Certainly,” I reply, taking it from him. “Hey, I’ll uh… stop by her room for a solo concert in the next few days. Anything to make her rest better and get home quicker.” I offer up a wide smile.
“That’d be great. I appreciate it.” He leaves without a word, and I tuck the card into the back pocket of my jeans without bothering to look at it.
My throat is dry from singing, so I pack up everything and make my way to the cafeteria for a drink before heading back to Carter.
My phone rings inside my bag as I step off the elevator. I dig inside and finally find it on the very bottom. I don’t recognize the number, but I slide the arrow up. “Hello?”
“Hello. This is Karen, the entertainment manager at The Bitter End. I got your message.”
“Thanks for calling me back. I really appreciate it.”
“Open mic nights are on Tuesday by lottery. If you want to show up at 7:30 PM and get a number, then you can perform according to your ticket number. We only give out forty numbers. If they’re gone when you arrive, you can’t perform. If you get a number, you get five minutes on stage to do whatever you like. If the crowd likes you, then you might get an invitation to perform on Friday nights. Just see the bartender when you arrive at 7:30 for a number. OK?”
“OK.”
“Any questions?”
“Nope. I got it. Thanks.”
She hangs up in true New Yorker style—abruptly. Butterflies are beating inside me. I feel like something good is going to happen.
I push the door to Carter’s room open to find him right where I left him. My lips meet his in a tender kiss.
“I’m back,” I whisper, resting my forehead against his. His hand is in mine like always.
“I was wondering when you’d be back,” his soft voice has my breath catching in my chest.
“Carter?” I’m a bumbling idiot, tears coursing down my cheeks as I pull away and stare at him in disbelief. He gives me a shaky smile, his beautiful, brown eyes bright with his own tears.
“Teddy Bear,” he whispers, cupping my face tenderly. “I’ve missed holding you.”
“Carter.” I’m weeping so much I can barely breathe.
He lets out a soft chuckle. “Come here, baby.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I’m on the bed and snuggled in his arms, sobbing like a child. His fingers thread through my hair, and he murmurs, “My sweet girl. I love you so fucking much.”
“I love you too.” I tilt my head up to look at him.
His head is bald because they had to shave it for the surgery. The ugly scars are a beacon to the pain he’s been in. But none of that matters. Hair grows back. Scars fade. What matters is he’s here now. With me. Holding me. We’re together.
Before we get the chance to talk, the nurse comes back in with my dad and a few other doctors. I shift to move away from Carter, my cheeks heating. He’s still weak, but he manages to pull me back for a gentle kiss that screams of more.
Before long, the room is full of people checking Carter’s motor and cognitive skills. I move to the far corner of the room and give them space to make sure he’s all right.
I take a few candid pics of him and send them to Derek and Doctor Aarons in a group text.
Me: He’s awake. Come see for yourselves!
Derek: On my way.
Dr. A: Be there as soon as traffic allows.
When I look up from my phone it’s to find Carter’s eyes on me. Everything in that look says everything I feel for that man. And more. So much more.
Forty
Teddy
“It’s just after 8:00 PM. Go and rest, Teddy. He’s probably not going to wake up until the morning with all the medication they gave him after dinner.” Derek’s eyes sweep over me.
I stuff my iPad and earbuds in my bag. I glance over to Carter who’s been ou
t for hours. “You’re right. I promised Carter I’d go to the hotel and get some sleep. Thanks for staying with me.”
“Why don’t you go stay at his place? I know he’s offered it.”
“It wouldn’t feel right without him there.”
Derek gives me a sympathetic look but nods.
I pull my phone out of my back pocket to call an Uber, and a small card falls to the floor. Derek scoops it up and hands it to me. “A talent scout? Republic Records. Nice. It’s about time you went after your own dreams.”
“Talent Scout? What?” I snatch it out of his hands. My eyes bulge in surprise.
“You didn’t know you had the business card of a talent scout in your pocket?” He laughs softly at my shock. “How is that possible?”
“He listened to me play while waiting for his mother this morning, and when he left he handed me his card and said something like “If you ever need my services…ugh. I thought he was a cable salesman or something like that.”
“Teddy, that’s Ed Wilcott. He signs major talent, like Grammy-award winning, multi-platinum singers for Universal Music. You have to call him.”
I grab my case and throw open the buckles, pulling out my trusty guitar. No hesitation. Not anymore. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Carter, it’s that we only live once so we have to take every opportunity that comes our way or risk losing it. I wrap my guitar strap around me and grab my phone. “I can do better than call him. C’mon, Derek. We have a little concert to play before bedtime.” He follows me next door to Room 11.
I knock quietly, and within a few seconds, the door is pulled open. Mr. Wilcott greets us with a full smile. “You came. She’s going to be so surprised.”
“How’s she’s doing tonight?”
“Well, today’s report is rough. She wasn’t happy when I went to work, so she threw a fit with the nurses. But she seems to be settling down now.”
“Let’s see if we can relax her some more. Mr. Wilcott, I’m Teddy Bruce, and this is my friend, Derek.” Derek squeezes my side excitedly.
“Please, call me Ed.” He draws the curtain back as we enter the room. “Mama, we’ve got company.”
Blue eyes open and hesitantly peer at me first then at Derek. She spots my guitar hanging around my neck, and a weak smile illuminates her pale face. Ed raises her bed to slightly sitting, as I take a seat and remove the glass pick from between the strings holding it.
“Here’s a classic. It’s one of the first songs I ever learned to play.” I strum the opening lines to “Mama He’s Crazy” by The Judds. She watches me play for a bit then closes her eyes. I can see her foot tapping to the song through the sheet, but by the end of it she’s fast asleep.
I stand and grab my bag, tiptoeing to the door behind Derek who holds it open for me and Ed to walk through. I turn to him with my hand outstretched for him to shake. “Sorry that wasn’t much of a concert for her but thank you for the opportunity to help her rest easily.”
“She loved it, and now she’s dreaming peacefully, which is exactly what she needs.” He shakes my hand but doesn’t let go immediately. “Teddy, I want you to call me. I’m serious. Set up an appointment with Sarah, my assistant. We’ll talk. You’ve got a crazy talent that I can’t let walk away.”
“I will.”
He grins and finally lets go.
“I look forward to it,” he says before he turns and strides back into his mother’s room.
I enter Carter’s room floating on cloud nine. Derek high-fives me.
“Teddy, that was incredible. You are crazy talented.”
“Thanks. Now I feel sick.” My hand presses against my stomach to calm the butterflies currently going crazy within it.
“That’s the adrenaline working. You just auditioned for Ed Wilcott in his mother’s hospital room. How awesome and completely insane is that?”
“It’s too much. All of this. Now. At once.” I hold my hands out, gesturing to Carter and next door. I place my guitar back into the case and secure it.
“When things are going right, you don’t question the timing. Carter is alive, your music career is about to skyrocket, and your family is back in your life. This is exactly where you belong in this moment. You’re blessed. Ride the wave, because you deserve this.”
I hug him tightly. “No wonder Carter loves you. You’re a good man with a heart of gold and an intelligent mind. You deserve all the good things in life.”
“Carter George deserves all the credit for getting that wild hair up his ass to go on an adventure,” Derek blurts out. We both turn and look at him sleeping peacefully.
“Thank God for Carter George 2.0.”
Epilogue
Carter
Fifteen months later
She’s fidgeting in her seat as Kelsea Ballerini reads the nominees for Best New Artist. I pull her hand to my lips and kiss it. “Don’t be nervous, baby. They’re going to call your name. I hope you have your acceptance speech ready.”
“If they do, just pray I don’t throw up, pee myself, or fall in these heels, Carter.”
“You’re going to be fine, Teddy Bear. You’re stronger than you know and more talented than you give yourself credit for. Remember the Grand Canyon? That was way worse, and you survived that.”
She gives me a shaky smile. I want to kiss her worries away but know I can’t since we’re very much in the public eye at that moment. I settle for giving her hand a squeeze. The past year and a half have been a wild ride. Teddy and her father saved my life. Well, everyone saved my life. I’m cancer free. My hair has grown back. And my girl is achieving her dreams. Our life is hectic with her music career and me going back to my company part-time, but it’s so fucking good. I travel most of the time with Teddy, doing my work remotely. She insisted I come with her, and who am I to tell her no? I’m excited for The Ultimate Roadtrip Tour. She and Luke will be touring together. I know the title of the tour will live up to its name.
The sound of the announcer’s voice pulls me back to the present. I know Teddy is going to win. She’s been hanging in the Billboard top slots for weeks now.
“And the Grammy-nominated Best New Artist of the Year is…Teddy Bruce.”
Her song “Rescue Me” starts to play, and the camera zooms in on her reaction. Her face flashes from shock to fear to sheer joy as she jumps from her chair to kiss me. I know I’m the luckiest man alive to have the unconditional love of this amazing woman.
“Way to go, baby,” I murmur in her ear as my lips brush against her soft skin. “Go get your award.” I want to slap her sexy ass but refrain. Instead, I clap loudly with the rest of the audience. I’ll smack her ass later.
She makes it up the wide steps and accepts her Grammy. Her voice quivers as she begins her speech—thanking the fans, her parents, and the obligatory managers and record label.
“There’s one more person I need to thank because without him, I’d still be in Nashville singing at open-mic nights and probably going nowhere. Carter George, when you came into my life, I had nothing. No one. You’ve given me so much. Thank you for rescuing me. I love you.”
The crowd cheers wildly as she exits the stage. I’m eager to get to her. I know she has to do her rounds for publicity in the back, so I sit in my seat.
“Girl has some talent,” Luke whispers next to me. “We still on for later?”
“Hell yeah,” I say with a grin. I have one hell of an after-party planned.
“I can’t believe I won!” Teddy screeches as I lift her in my arms and twirl her.
“I can.” I plant a kiss on her red lips which she eagerly returns. “Now let’s get your sexy ass back to my place. The night’s just beginning.”
She grins at me without protest and lets me escort her to our waiting limo. The moment we’re inside, my hands are all over her. She looks incredible in her slinky, red dress.
“Carter,” she giggles and gasps as my hands find their way beneath the silky garment.
“What?” I tease, nipping
at her ear as I dip my finger into her warmth. She’s already wet, her breathing ragged. “I don’t see much protest, Teddy Bear.”
“None,” she moans as I push another finger into her hot center. “I want you.”
“Mm, baby, you have me,” I growl, tracing hot kisses down her incredibly low neckline.
“The ride isn’t long, Carter,” she pleads, her fingers tangling in my dark hair.
“What are you saying?” I tease, leisurely gliding my fingers in and out of her.
“I’m saying that I want you inside of me.”
That’s all I need to hear. My cock is already straining against my zipper. I let it free, pushing her dress up and pulling her panties down. She straddles my lap.
“Oh God,” she moans as I plunge deep into her center. “Carter.”
“Teddy,” I say her name like a prayer as I pump in and out of her.
She’s my kind of heaven. So sweet. Hot. Wet. Her back arches, her pussy clamping around my cock. My eyes are practically rolling into the back of my head as we both find our release.
“I love you,” I say, pressing a tender kiss to her lips as I rest my forehead against hers. “I want to give you so much, Teddy Bear. I promise I will.”
“You already have,” she whispers, angling her head up so she can kiss me again. My heart soars. This night has been incredible. And it’s only just started.
Our place is packed.
“Carter! Teddy!” Derek calls out. I grin and tug Teddy deeper into the room. People are clapping and congratulating her. Even Molly rushes up to her and gives her hand a lick. She responds by giving the dog a good scratching.
“Everything is ready,” Derek murmurs to me, shoving a small, velvet box into my hands. “Luke is going to play guitar to the song you wrote. You sing it, man. Then you do your thing.”
