“What if she leaves? How can I be there for her when I have to be there for Scott?”

“Scott is my best friend. My brother. But Lindsay is yours. And I won’t ever stand between that. Neither would he. It might be awkward and uncomfortable, but you’ll do what you need to do, to be there for her.”

I nod and pull his hand up to brush a kiss over it.

“Does it bother you?” he asks.

I don’t need to ask what. “Yes. I wish I knew everything. That I could remember the first time I told you I loved you, or when you said it to me. Our first fight, and when you made love to me, or why we moved here, or—everything. I wish I could remember everything. But that’s the past. And the girl I was chose you. The girl I am today is choosing you. So in the end, does it really matter?”

He rolls me and slips into me, easy and effortless. I gasp a little. It never fails to surprise me, how ready he always is. Slow, lazy thrusts have me arching silently against him, and he leans down. I tilt my head for a kiss, but he murmurs into my ear. “In my shitty apartment, after a gig at Barrie’s. That’s the first time I took you to bed. We had been fighting about the secrets you were keeping, and that night everything changed.” He twists, taking me with him as he rolls to his back and I gasp, bracing my hands on his chest as I settle on top of him. “And in the rain. We were camping, and it was raining. And you were dancing in it, like a little girl. We made love in a field, with the rain all around us, and you riding me, and I told you then, because I couldn’t stand another minute without you knowing that I loved you. That I will always love you. You’re it for me, Fish. The sea and the air I breathe and every fucking thing that matters.”

I shatter, gasping his name as the orgasm reaches up and pulls me under, a crashing wave of sensation that begins and ends in him and the steady push and pull of him.

He keeps thrusting, and I lean down, kissing him, grinding against him until he pants my name, his body shaking as he comes.

We lie still for a long moment, wrapped around each other, breathing with each other. “I love you, Fish,” he whispers. “Always have. Always will. You remembering that won’t change a damn thing for me.”

***

Lindsay is in the living room when I come downstairs the next day, and her gaze when it lands on me is miserable. It dims the quiet glow that I’ve been feeling since last night.

I make two cups of coffee, dumping too much sugar and milk into hers. Grab a Pop-Tart and go back to the living room. I put her coffee in front of her, and curl on the other edge of the couch. Tear open the Pop-Tarts and hand her one.

“Is that something you remembered or something that’s muscle memory?” she asks, taking the sugary cardboard.

I shrug. “Let’s split the difference and call it a day.”

She snorts. I hide my smirk behind my coffee and study her. “So let’s talk about you.” Her eyes go careful and guarded and I make a noise in the back of my throat. “Don’t. Don’t do that ice queen bullshit, Linds. I’m here because I’m worried about you. So talk to me.”

“You’re here because Rike is hot and the sex is phenomenal. Don’t delude yourself.”

“The sex is phenomenal,” I say with feeling and she giggles. A real noise that strings hope along me like fireworks.

“Tell me about the wedding,” I say.

Tears fill her eyes and she shakes her head. “I can’t, Peyton.”

“I’m not asking for much, sugar. What colors were you using?”

“Teal and black. My dress was white with a light teal lace overlay and black accents. It was so damn gorgeous.” Her voice cracks and for just a second, I think she’s going to give in. Let me in. Tell me everything that she’s been keeping bottled up and secret. But she takes a sip of her coffee, fighting to get control, and she gives me a watery smile. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over.”

“Why?” I whisper. “Fuck, Lindsay, he loves you. The kind of crazy, stop-the-world-from-spinning love that people only dream about. Why on earth are you walking away from that?”

“Because it’s the kind of love that stops the world from spinning. And if the world stops spinning, it dies. I don’t want him to get this close to having it all, and then throw it away to take care of a cripple who can’t be what he needs. I refuse to be the reason he doesn’t get his dreams.”

I stare at her, stunned by the fierce passion in her voice. By the pure belief that she’s right.

There isn’t a way to convince her that she isn’t. And she isn’t walking away because she doesn’t love him. Which makes it so much more difficult.

She’s walking away because she loves him too much.

Chapter 27 : Before

“We should go away,” Lindsay says.

I look at her, pulled out of my sketch for just a moment. Peyton is half-asleep, her head on my thigh and my fingers sifting through her hair as I draw.

“Why?”

She looks over her shoulder, at where Scott is banging on guitar strings. He’s been in a shitty mood since we came home from Austin two weeks ago. The waiting is killing him.

I understand. It’s slowly driving me crazy, and I have the tattoo shop and songwriting to distract me. Scott only has the music. It’s always been harder for him.

“Where would we go?” Peyton asks, sleepily.

“My parents’ condo.”

“You know it’s freezing, right?” she asks, a smile in her voice.

“So we wear sweaters and get drunk in the hot tub instead of bikinis and drunk on the beach. Come on. It’ll be good to get out of the city for a while, and we’re on break. It’s perfect.”

Peyton peers up at me, her gaze questioning. She’s been skittish around Scott for the past few weeks, since that night in the club—and he’s noticed, even if he hasn’t commented. Shoving us all into a small condo for a few days will either cure her of that or make things worse.

“It sound fun,” I say and she lets out a tiny sigh. “Fine. When do we leave?”

Lindsay shrieks, a happy noise that makes my ears hurt, and Peyton giggles.

“If we leave tomorrow, we can put up a tree and celebrate Christmas!” Linds says, bouncing off the table and darting to her room. “I’m calling Daddy!”

***

It takes less than three hours to get the condo and for Lindsay’s father to arrange plane tickets—his present to us, and when we argued, the man was having none of it.

I don’t like Peyton’s parents, but as parents go, Lindsay did good.

The girls are darting from room to room, stealing clothes and packing and laughing. Scott lands on the couch next to me, his bag on the kitchen table with mine.

We don’t need much, and pack fast—a skill I learned in the system that I still carry.

“Think it’s a good idea to force Red into this?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? She could have said no.”

“And you could have said the room was taken.”

I go still and Scotty curses. “Dude. You know I don’t give a fuck, but it messes with shit. She isn’t one of the girls we took home from Barrie’s.”

“I fucking know that,” I snap. “She wanted to stay. So fuck off. She’ll be fine.”

He looks at me for a minute, skepticism in his gaze, and I growl softly. “I’m not doing anything that will fuck up what I have with her. You ought to know that. She’s all that matters.”

“What if she doesn’t want this? If the next step is signing with this studio and moving to be closer to the indie scene? You know the five year plan.”

I do. It’s always been the plan—work and build our name in Knoxville before we move to Nashville or Austin.

When we made the plan, it was just us. Two friends with no attachments and big-ass dreams. The girls changed that. I glance at Lindsay as she almost runs past with a sweater and a wide smile. “What about her? Can you let go of her if we leave and she doesn’t follow?”