I can hear Thorin and his band outside by the fire pit, but have yet to muster up the courage to join them. They’re celebrating, and after googling what it means when an album goes platinum, I don’t blame them. Of course, googling the band had me going down a rabbit hole, and after reading one too many articles about Thorin, I closed my browser and spent an hour getting Eli bathed and dressed, before hopping in the shower myself. After the meeting with Mr. Idris and breakfast with Thorin, I’m feeling out of sorts. So much so that I’ve tried on every outfit in my closet. For a damn bonfire. You’d swear it was a date or something. Ugh. I groan at my reflection, and decide casual is as good as it gets. I braid my hair, and let it hang over my shoulder, pull on some skinny jeans, a knee-length sweater, and dark, chocolate brown over-the-knee boots. When I walk into Eli’s nursery, he’s awake, and wriggling around.
“Okay, little man. Time to get you to Grandma.” After I dropped Thorin off at the house down the road, I made arrangements with Maggie to watch Eli for a while. It’s still too cold to have him outside, and I don’t want to be rude by not celebrating with Thorin and his band. I didn’t really think it through when I said I’d join them, but it’s too late to back out now and God knows I’m not a coward. Besides, if it any point I feel the need to flee, I can always make up an excuse and come back to my house. There’s a knock on my front door, and I frown. I’m supposed to take Eli to Maggie, not have her come stay here. But when I open the door, it’s not Maggie.
Thorin grins, and steps inside, reaching for Eli.
“Thought I’d spend a few minutes with our boy before we hand him off to Mom for the night.” The way he says our boy…le sigh.
“Of course.” I step aside, and hand Eli over. “I just have to grab my jacket.”
Thankfully, my house is clean—yes, I may have cleaned again, don’t judge—but the idea of having Thorin in my space makes me more nervous than I care to admit. If Mya were here, she’d slap me on the ass and tell me to get a grip. And she wouldn’t be wrong. Thorin cradles Eli, and then starts walking around. I covertly take stock of how good he looks—dark mane loose, tousled in a I-woke-up-looking-this-sexy style around his face, the scruff on his chin a little thicker, which really does it for me for some reason, a long-sleeve navy Under Armor shirt beneath a charcoal jacket, designer skinny jeans and dark blue suede Timberland boots. Everything about him screams rockstar, and I’d be stupid not to acknowledge how easily he fills the space around him.
“Nice place,” he says. “Pretty big for someone living alone, though.” Why I feel the need to explain is beyond me, but I do anyway. “I needed a home gym, and an office. The two additional bedrooms were your brother’s idea.”
“Hmm.” He takes in the open-plan living room and kitchen area, the high ceilings and exposed beams. While he scopes the place out, probably checking every room in the house, I dash back to my bedroom, and grab my navy blue fur collar coat off the bed. It’s going to look like I color-coordinated with Thorin. You’re being ridiculous, I scold myself. The itch to call Mya and freak out is there, but she’d just reaffirm that I’m overreacting. I take a deep breath, and walk back out into the living room. Thorin walks around, rocking Eli, and I have to admit—begrudgingly—that he’s a complete natural. It shouldn’t surprise me. I’ve come to learn that Thorin isn’t scared of a damn thing, never has been.
“Ready?” I ask, making a beeline for the door. Thorin chuckles behind me, mumbling something to Eli about how he thinks he makes me nervous. Pfft, fucking understatement, buddy. He steps outside, and waits for me to lock my door. We walk up to the main house, Thorin whispering to Eli about girls, and me smiling like a loon because clearly, I’m a moron. It’s just Thorin, for Pete’s sake. Thorin and a baby, I remind myself. Once upon a time I fantasized about our future—you know, when I was hopelessly in love with the asshole—and it definitely included a house full of mini Thorin’s running around. That was before he forgot me altogether, and before I realized how cruel life could be.
Maggie’s sing-song voice shakes me from my thoughts, and she immediately takes Eli from Thorin’s arms. He side-steps her. “Na-uh, Mamma. You’ve had him all to yourself today, and we’re in the middle of a serious man-to-man conversation.”
“Oh, hush. I’m leaving in a few days, then you’ll have him all to yourself. How dare you rob a grandma of precious time with her only grandbaby.” She winks at me, and I know she’s playing with Thorin’s feelings. He’s been a total sucker when it comes to his mom all his life, and she knows how to use it against him. Wicked, smart woman. Thorin’s expression is comical, and I stifle a giggle when he looks torn between keeping Eli to himself, and letting his mom take him.
“We’ll talk later,” he tells Eli. “Just remember what I said, okay? Girls are evil.”
Maggie snorts, and then takes Eli from Thorin, who winks at me. I shake my head at his antics. “Do you have everything you need?” Maggie asks, her gaze flitting between me and Thorin. Her smile is too wide, but then again, maybe it’s just because she’s proud of Thorin and his band. I don’t want to think it’s because she’s got any notion in her head about me and Thorin getting together.
“Mamma, you bought enough food to feed a small country,” Thorin says. “Did you think we were going to have a rager or somethin’?”
She shrugs. “I wasn’t sure, you used to get pretty carried away with those field parties you thought your daddy and I didn’t know about when you were in high school.”
Thorin looks—is he blushing?
“We’re not kids anymore, Mamma.”
“Like that matters,” she titters. “You’re still boys at heart.”
Thorin frowns at that. “I’ve grown up since high school.”
“Don’t fib in front of your nephew, you’re setting a bad example,” Maggie retorts. Thorin looks to me for help, but I shrug.
“Thanks,” he grumbles, and I give him a mega-watt smile. I turn to Maggie. “His bottles are in the fridge, and if—”
“Sweetheart, go have some fun. Eli and I are going to watch a movie, and then go to bed.”
“Yeah, sweetheart,” Thorin teases. “Let’s go have some fun.”
Maggie points a finger at Thorin. “Behave.”
“Yes, Ma’am. I’ll have her home at a respectable hour too, and no funny business.”
I roll my eyes so hard I almost pull a muscle. Maggie’s right. Thorin is still a boy at heart, and that thought alone is enough to twist my insides. Because once upon a time, I loved that boy.
All my worries about spending the evening celebrating with Thorin and his band are quickly assuaged when we join the guys by the fire pit. We’re all handed something to drink—shots of tequila potent enough to knock out a stallion—and after a brief speech from Alex, we tip them back. I take a seat on the patio furniture around the pit, surprised when Penelope joins me. Her red hair is tied up high atop her head, and she looks casual in distressed jeans, ankle boots, a sweater and a jacket. You’d never look at her and think she spends her days looking after a raucous band and their manager. She faces me after a beat of awkward silence, and I watch the shadows cast by the flames dance across her delicate features. She purses her lips for a second, and then says, “I owe you an apology.”
My brows lift, and I lean back.
“Thorin would have come home earlier,” she swallows audibly, and her eyes glisten with unshed tears, “if it weren’t for me. I feel terrible about it.”
I want to tell her she should, but I can’t fault her for doing her job, and holding grudges isn’t really my style. Although, I’ve realized that being around Thorin and his band again, after all these years, I’ve yet to completely let go of my past.
“Can’t undo what’s been done,” I tell her. “But, I’m not angry with you. I know you were just doing what you’re paid to do.”
She sniffles, and twines her fingers together, unable to look at me. “I wanted to apologize the day of the service, but I figured you needed some time.”
“I did, but Penelope, you have to let it go. What matters is that Thorin was here to say his goodbyes, and you were all here to support him. Ryan wouldn’t want you hanging on to your guilt either, ya know? He’d be the first to tell you that regret over the past is a waste of time. Lord knows he told me to move on every chance he got. Take a page out of my book, and move on.”
She looks over to where the guys are manning the giant grill, and then glances at the fire. “Alex told me a little bit about your history with Thorin.”
“I didn’t realize he knows anything.”
“Not a whole lot,” she admits. “Just that you mattered to him, and he wasn’t there for you when you needed him. Thorin isn’t exactly the most forthcoming about his private life. Keeps things close to his chest, I guess.”
“It was a long time ago, Penelope. We were kids. I honestly didn’t think I’d ever see him again.”
Her brows furrow. “Even though you’ve been living on his brother’s ranch?”
I consider my next words carefully, trying to get a read on the type of person Penelope is. Eventually, I relax, and decide to stick to what I feel is safe. “If Thorin had plans to come home, Ryan would have told me, and I would’ve gone down to Florida to visit Maggie.”
Penelope lets outs a puff of air. “I’m guessing he did more than just fuck up if you’re willing to go to such lengths to avoid him.”
“Not just him,” I exhale. “All of them. Benji, Carson, and Fletch, too.”
Her expression is marred with confusion, and who could blame her? I’m being cryptic as fuck, but she’s a damn stranger to me, and no way do I want her knowing about my past with the band. “It was high school,” I add quietly. “I was the outcast, and before they were a band, they were football players. You put the pieces together.”
Penelope shakes her head. “Guys are such assholes.”
I chuckle. “Guys, as in plural, or guy, as in Alex?”
Yes, I notice how her gaze lingers on him from time to time. I have eyes, and I know that look all too well. I used to look at Thorin that way when he passed me in the hallway at school, or when I walked past the football field during practice.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she huffs. But when she looks back at me, I see the vulnerability in her blue eyes. “Don’t say anything, he doesn’t know.”
I smirk. “I’m no expert, but I think he does. He’s barely taken his eyes off you since you sat down.”
She groans, and leans her head back, covering her face with her hands. “Honestly, he’s the last person I should have googly-eyes for, Reese. He’s my boss, for crying out loud.”
“Well, he’s not exactly hard on the eyes,” I giggle. Penelope gives me the side-eye through her fingers, and it endears me to her. I think we could be friends, and if she’s the hardass I think she is—she’d have to be to be around four rockstars day in and day out—then Mya will probably love her too. “You’re so not helping,” she mutters.
I throw my head back, and laugh. “Not trying to.”
“Then what are you saying, Reese? Spit it out, I hate riddles.” Oh yeah, we’re so going to be friends.
“Well, has he made a move on you?”
“No,” she replies, righting herself. “But I know he watches me.” Her cheeks flush, and I hide my smile behind my hand.
“Well, grow a pair of lady balls and make the first move if he won’t.”
“And if I’m wrong?”
“And if he feels the same way you do?” I counter.
“Fair point,” she grunts. “But, not happening tonight. I’m off duty.”
I don’t know her very well, but based on this interaction alone, I’d say Penelope is good people, a firecracker no doubt.
I glance over to where Thorin is bickering with Benji and Fletch, and shake my head at how theatrical they are. “I don’t know how you put up with them.”
“It’s probably the highest-paid babysitting gig in the world,” she says emphatically.
I snort, loud enough to garner Thorin’s attention. He gives me a crooked grin, and then meanders over, a beer bottle in hand.
“You want something more to drink?” Penelope asks me. “I need more alcohol.”
“A water’s fine, thanks.”
Thorin takes the seat Penelope vacated, and just about fills the space, forcing me closer to him. He drops his arm around the back of the sofa, and leisurely sips his beer. We’re quiet, nothing but the crackle of the firewood and the sound of laughter filling the cool night air.
“I could get used to this,” he comments. “I forgot how quiet it gets here at night.”
“One of the reasons I love it so much,” I reply.
“Ya know, I didn’t think you’d ever come back to Horseshoe Bay.”
I sigh. “It’s home, always will be. Even if my parents were still here, I’d have still come back.”
Thorin turns to face me. “Have they been in contact with you?”
“No.” I fiddle with the hem of my jacket, play with the zipper. “I don’t even think they know I live here, and even if they did, I don’t think Ryan would have allowed them on the property. He hated them too much.”
“He was always protective of you,” Thorin murmurs. Something in the set of his jaw, and the reflection of the flames flickering in his eyes tells me he’s not pleased. “Like I should have been.”
I meet his steady gaze, and my heart flutters. Stupid organ. I open my mouth, and then snap it shut, not sure if I want to touch that landmine of a comment.
“I’m sorry, Reese.” It’s barely a whisper, but the words wrap around every fiber of my being, tightening around my heart, my lungs. How many nights have I spent wondering how I’d feel if he ever said those words to me? Too many. And not once, did I imagine I’d feel the urge to touch him, to reach out for him. But, I so want to. “I made so many mistakes,” he adds. He lifts his hand, and brushes his calloused fingers along my jaw, over my cheekbone, leaving heat in their wake. “Think you can ever forgive me?” I’ve thought about that too, but rather than expose myself, my vulnerability where he’s concerned, I give him a part-truth. “I guess I have to. We’re raising a baby together.” I give him a lopsided grin. His chest heaves as he exhales. “That’s not the only reason, and you know it. You could never lie to me, Reese.”
“Maybe,” I admit. “But that’s all I’m ready to give you.”
He wants to say more, but he’s interrupted when Fletch slaps him on the shoulder from behind, and I jump. For such a big guy, he moves like fucking smoke.
“Yo, you got a guitar lyin’ around?” He asks. He gives me a warm smile, and a wink. For some reason, it makes me blush. I’m not used to being around these guys as they are now, I keep expecting them to revert back to their old dick-head ways.
“The fuck we need a guitar for?” Thorin asks, annoyed. Fletch doesn’t care though, he just forges on like he’s used to the ornery side of his band-mate. “Because we’re celebrating, asshole, and that means music.”
“Everything’s at your house,” Thorin tells him.
“Actually,” I look up at Fletch, “I have a guitar inside, but it’s an acoustic.”
“Fuck yeah!” He yells.
Thorin frowns at me, but I’m up, and walking towards my house before he can ask questions. When I walk back out, everyone is congregated around the pit, and it’s Thorin who stops short when he sees what’s in my hand.
“Is that…”
“Yeah.” I smile.
“You kept it?”
Benji and Fletch walk closer, and you’d swear I’m holding the holy grail of acoustic guitars, or something. “Is that a…” Benji trails off.
“A Gibson Southern Jumbo 1964 Sunburst,” I finish. “This was Thorin’s first guitar.”
He clears his throat. “My dad gave that to me on my sixteenth birthday, belonged to my dad, and his dad before that. You kept it?”
I shrug. “Couldn’t part with it.” I leave out the part about how it went with me to college. Nobody needs to know that.
“Can you play it?” Fletch asks.
“She can,” Thorin answers for me, his expression indecipherable. “Taught her myself.”
“Well, damn,” Benji rubs at the scruff covering his jaw. “I need to hear this.”
“No, I don’t—”
I get a chorus of “come on, just one song” followed by, “Reese! Reese! Reese!”
There are only four people who’ve ever heard me play—and sing— and two of them are gone. That leaves Maggie, and Thorin, and with my luck, Thorin is going to—
“She can sing too.” Tell them I can sing. Dangit.
“Okay, now you have no choice, Reese.” Fletch grins, and pats a log.
I shoot Thorin a glare, and the bastard smirks. I take a seat, settle the guitar, and tune the strings. I’m aware that everyone is watching, but as I caress the neck, the round curves of the body, touch a string or two, the nerves in my belly take flight, their wings growing bigger and bigger.
“What should I sing?” I ask Thorin. “I don’t know any of your songs.”
I get a collective “ooh, that hurts” from Fletch, Carson and Benji, but ignore them. Thorin shakes his head, and drops onto the sofa. “Your choice.”
I search the deepest recesses of my mind, trying to think of a song, and it’s harder than it seems. Not because I have an audience, though. Do I choose a song we wrote together as kids, before it all fell apart, or do I sing something I wrote when I needed an outlet in college? The latter are mostly about Thorin, of course; about an unrequited young love, a betrayal, and the decision to move on from him. A desire to have him be nothing more than a memory.
“Anyone got a pick?” I ask, looking around. Benji reaches into his jean pocket, and tosses me his. I exhale, focusing on the strings, their sound, the weight of the body on my thigh, the feel of the neck in my hand—hello, old friend. I pick at a few chords, making sure I have the sound right. I’m a little rusty, and hello! I’m surrounded by one of worlds most famous rock bands. Yikes.
Without much more hesitation, I start playing, coaxing my hand’s memories to life, opening with a slow melody, and then I start to sing.
We were a storm destined to collide
You were a story I had to write
Between the pages filled with ink, and the wild skies filled with thunder
You became my safe place to hide, so way up high,
Because we simply existed under the same sky
But I was so wrong to believe
That you’d stay and never leave
And I was so wrong to believe
That you’d always be there for me
It’s been a few years now, and I’ve wondered where you are
Thought about the moments and the laughter we shared under the stars
I wanted to see it all through your eyes, see the world from way up high
Until I remembered that you’d left me behind
But I was so wrong to believe
That you’d stay and never leave
And I was so wrong to believe
That you’d always be there for me
Time has passed, and we’re strangers now
I made it without you, somehow
And now I see the storm we were meant to be,
Why you meant so much to me
Because when two stars collide, so way up high,
They always crash and burn and fall in love,
When they’re under the same sky
The words blend with each lick, each melody, bringing a part of me back to life that I’d shut off years ago. Everyone else falls away, and I lose myself to the moment, wholly aware that I’m vulnerable, but enjoying the feel of the music dancing through my hands too much to really care. When I’m done, I find six sets of eyes on me, and five mouths agape. Thorin gives nothing away, but I see it in his eyes. There’s no mistaking the song is about him, but he shouldn’t get it confused with it being for him. I wrote it for me, and I’m actually surprised it’s the first song that popped into my head. I can’t even remember writing it, just that it was cathartic at the time.
“Uh,” Carson looks at my like I’ve grown a second head. “What the hell, Reese?”
“What the hell is right,” Fletch adds. “That was…” He shakes his head, almost as if he can’t believe it’s me.
“Fucking awesome,” Benji finishes, his toothy grin wide. “You write that?”
I nod. “I did, when I was in college.”
“Dude,” Fletch slaps Thorin’s chest, “we need to her in the studio with us. She has that fucking rasp, man.”
I giggle, feeling my cheeks warm from something other than the flames that lick the air in front of me. I desperately want to know what Thorin is thinking, but instead, I pass the guitar on to Benji.
“You ever think about recording?” He asks, touching the guitar with as much reverence as I had.
“Nope.” I pop the ‘p’ and dip my head towards Thorin. “Singing was his thing, we just wrote some stuff together as kids.”
“Well, that was pretty fucking impressive,” he replies. “You should think about it. Recording with us, I mean.”
I shake my head. “Like I said, singing isn’t my jam.”
Alex regards me, his gaze assessing. “Have you written more songs?”
“A few, but I think it was a fad.” Lie. “Kind of outgrew it in high school—” truth —“and then dabbled with it for a bit in college as a creative outlet.”
“That’s it,” Fletch throws his hands up. “You’re helping us with our next album.”
I look between him and Thorin.“Uh, what?”
“You’re helping us with your next album,” Fletch says simply. “Thorin said its cool.”
“No, I didn’t.” He’s still staring at me. To anyone else, his expression would be considered aloof, perhaps even indifferent, but his eyes show me just how pissed he is. Granted, the song could have been misconstrued as a personal jab at him, but I didn’t intend for it to come out that way. At least, not intentionally. I can see now where I might have misstepped in my song choice, but hey, it was the first song that popped into my head—and maybe that’s saying something too? Ugh. This is not the time or the place to probe my subconscious.
Fletch, on the other hand, is like a dog with a bone. “Let’s vote.”
Uh, no. Not happening.
Not that it stops him. “All in favor of Reese helping us with the next album, raise your right hand and swear on the Bible.”
Penelope snickers, Benji shakes his head. “Man, can’t you see she’s green just thinking about it?”
“I’m with Benji on this one,” Carson adds. “Looks like you lose, Fletch.”
Fletch looks at Thorin. “Help me out, Thor, God of Thunder. Bang that hammer.”
God, where does he come up with this shit? It’s funny, but seriously?
“Fine,” Thorin grunts, and I realize I’m holding my breath. He looks straight at me. “Reese isn’t helping us with our next album.” Is it just me, or does he sound mad? And why do I feel a stab of a disappointment at his answer?
Huh.
Figure that one out.
Fletch deflates, and Carson claps his hands. “There you have it, the mighty Thor has spoken,” — he casts a quick glance at me — “no offense, Reese.”
“None taken,” I reply quietly, keeping my eyes locked on Thorin. “Like I said, songs are Thorin’s thing, not mine, and that part of my life was over before it really began.”
Now that? That was a direct hit, and Thorin knows it too. Why I decided to throw that in there is beyond me. God, this man makes me bananas in all the ways, and now we’ll be raising a kid together. If I can just figure out how to keep our ugly past from rearing its head, Thorin and I should be able to learn to get along, right? And maybe save Eli from a lifetime of emotional scarring in the process? Please and thank you, baby Jesus, forever and ever, amen. I stand and walk towards the cooler. Grabbing a Pampelonne Rosé Lime Sparkling Wine Spritzer, I pop the cap and am about to take a healthy sip—especially after what just happened—when Thorin steps up beside me. His ice blue eyes bore into me, his face marred by a deep groove between his drawn brows. “What the hell was that?” He asks. The low timbre of his voice is nothing short of a warning, but for what exactly I’m not sure. I’m not aware I’ve done anything wrong.
“What was what, Thor?”
His frown deepens. Guess only his friends get to call him that. Okay then. Noted.
“The guitar, that song?”
I take healthy gulp of my drink before I answer him. Liquid courage and all that. “I’m sorry if keeping the guitar pisses you off, but I couldn’t get rid of it, and as for the song, they’re just words, Thorin. Nothing more.”
“I looked for that thing for almost a year, and it’s been with you this entire time?”
“Ryan told me you left it here, and asked if I wanted to keep it, so I did. Had I known it would bother you so much, I would have had him ship it to you.”
Thorin grimaces, brushing his dark hair behind his ear. “And the song?”
“What about it?” I knew playing it was gonna bite me in the ass, in retrospect.
“Under the same sky? Really? Was that your way of getting back at me or something?”
“Oh for God’s sake, it’s just a damn song, okay?” And a promise you broke years ago. “It’s not a big deal, so why not let it go.”
“You know it’s not just a song, Reese. Why’d you sing it tonight? Why tonight?”
“Je-zus,” I sigh. “They’re words, empty and meaningless words that I wrote when I was in college. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Thorin lowers his head, bringing his mouth to my ear and damn if his hot breath doesn’t make me shiver. “They’re not empty or meaningless, and we both know it.”
Before I can offer a rebuttal, he’s stomping his way back to where the guys are singing, and fooling around with anything that can be a make-shift instrument. And suddenly, I don’t feel like celebrating anymore. Because he’s wrong. Maybe once upon a time those words, under the same sky, held meaning, but life robbed me of that, and now they mean nothing.