“Lindsay will. She already knows the plan. She’s known from the beginning.”

I stare at him in shock and he lets out a sharp laugh. “One day, dude, you’re going to stop being a distrustful ass, and start letting people in. You might want to do it before Peyton wakes up and realizes how much you don’t tell her.”

He gets up and follows Lindsay into the bedroom, and I stare at the closed door for a long minute.

Then I stand and walk into our room. Peyton is half in the closet, wrestling a dress off a hanger. She grins at me when she tosses it on the bed, and then stills, staring at me. Her brow furrows. “What’s wrong?”

“Would you move with me? To Austin?”

She blinks, her mouth falling open.

She’s still so fucking beautiful it hurts. And she’s scared. I can see it in her gaze, darting away from mine.

“If this works out, for Scott and me. Would you follow me?”

“Do you want me to?” she asks, her voice shaking.

I move, coming off the bed and catching her around the waist, kissing her hard and fast. “Fuck yes. I love you, Fish. You’re everything to me. I don’t want you to move with me. I want to marry you. I want you with me forever. I want every vacation to be this mad dash around while you giggle and plan. You writing while I draw. I want you to steal my razor and bitch when I touch your coffee and I want every fucking holiday with you. I want everything, Peyton. I don’t even care about the music. I love it, and I love being able to do it with Scott, but if it ever comes down to you or the music, I’m going to pick you. Every fucking time, I’ll pick you.”

She’s leaning against me, her head on my chest, and I can feel her shoulders shaking. When she looks up, her eyes are bright and shiny, but she’s smiling, this brilliant fucking smile that makes my insides ache. “Did you just propose?”

I don’t even think about it. “Yeah. You saying yes?”

“You fucking idiot,” she murmurs, and then she’s kissing me, and every fucking thing in my world is right, because she’s in my arms.

“Is that a yes?” I ask desperately, and she laughs.

“Of course. It’s never been a choice, Rike. I love you—and that means Scott, and everything that come with him. So yes. I’ll move to Austin with you. I’ll move anywhere. And I’ll marry you whenever you’re ready.”

“This weekend.”

She laughs, and she nods before she kisses me.

This. This is the real shit I’ve been chasing for so long. The family I always wanted and never had. The friends in the other room. This girl, in my arms.

This girl. She will always be everything I’ve ever wanted.

Chapter 28 : After

It's laughter and little lessons and heartbreak.

It is never easy.

But.

Easy is empty.

It's bland and boring. It doesn't make my heart

Sing or dance or hurt.

Easy is empty. And you.

Are everything.

(Rike’s poems to Peyton)

The day it happens starts like any other. I’ve been home for two weeks now, and although we’re all working to bring Lindsay out of her shell, to get her to trust us and trust what she and Scott have, it’s not working. We can feel her slipping away, and feel him sliding into a deep depression. Rike is fighting to keep him, and Lindsay is vanishing before our eyes.

Rike pops into my studio early this morning, with another cup of coffee and a toe-curling kiss that pulls me instantly from the paints I’m laying out.

I’ve apologized to my clients, a furious backlog in my inbox that took me a full day to work through. Some I wrote off completely—I couldn’t remember enough about the work and the client to put together a solid piece. Others, I offered a discounted price and an apology with a new delivery date. And most were understanding—those who weren’t were people I didn’t want to work with anyway.

“What are you working on today?” he asks, leaning over my shoulder. He shaved recently, and the beard has since been replaced with an ever-present scruff that I love.

“I’m doing a painting of a wedding photo. They were married in in ’62. How long is that?”

“A long fucking time?” he offers, and I laugh.

Look at him over my shoulder. “Do you think we can do that? Be together that long?”

His expression gentles. “Fish. We’ve been through hell the past three months, yeah? If we can get through this, we can get through anything. Fifty years is a piece of cake.”

I nod, and he kisses me again before he steps away. “What about you?” I ask. “What’s the plan?”

Rike shrugs. “We’re meeting the band about song selection for the next album. Since Scott canceled the tour, they need to get that going to keep the momentum.”

“See you tonight?”

He nods, and leans in to kiss me. “See you then.”

***

I switch on the radio, and spend the next few hours painting. It’s easy to get lost in my art, and it’s when I feel closest to the girl I was. Around lunchtime, I go downstairs and make lunch with Lindsay. She seems alive when I’m the only one home, the depression and walls she puts up when Scott is present melting away until she’s laughing and alive.

I make us cold cuts and join her at the table. She’s got her computer open and she glances up at me as I sit down. “You’re a mess,” she says, wrinkling her nose.

“You’re one to talk,” I tease. “What are you doing?”

She flushes and that piques my interest. “What?” I ask, lowering my sandwich.

“Setting up gigs,” she mumbles.

I stare at her and she shifts in her chair. Slaps the laptop shut and glares at me. “Quit staring at me with those accusing eyes. This is for him.”

“He doesn’t want gigs, you idiot. He wants you.”

Her lips compress into a tight line. “We aren’t doing this,” she say sharply.

“Why the hell do you get to tell me that I need to come home and to get my head out of my ass but when I say the same thing, I get shut down and yelled at? Do you want to explain that to me?”

“I want to smack you.” She snaps back, “But to do that, I need to walk and we all know the likelihood of that happening.”

I let out my breath slowly, and reach for her hand. “Babe. I know why this is scary. But you have a man who loves you. Who wants to be with you. Don’t throw it away because you think it’s what he needs. Be brave, sweetheart.”

She snorts, a disgusted noise. “Like you have been? You’ve run as far and as fast as you possibly could.”

“I came home for you,” I say quietly. “And I woke up and realized everything we have. I’m not ashamed of that. You can’t make me feel guilty for being happy. Not when we were both happy and can both be happy.”

She looks so sad. Miserable. “He deserves better.”

I stand up. Disgusted suddenly with all of it. With her.

“Who the fuck are you to decide what he deserves? Scotty chose you. He loves you. After all the people who threw him away, all the shit that they both went through—he opened up and trusted you. And you’re going to decide that he’s wrong for making that decision? Fuck you, Lindsay.”

I stalk away before she can argue. Before she can fight back at all. Retreat to my studio. The wedding picture is sitting on my table still, quietly taunting me. Emotions are still thrumming through me, all of the fury and frustration. I want to shake her and I want to put our family back together.

I want to know everything I lost.

I reach for a piece of charcoal, and knock over a little curved dish. It clatters as it hits the wood of my studio floor, metal rattling around as it bounces and rolls.

Curious, I pick it up and glance inside.

A small ring clatters there, a brilliant fire opal shining from the center, surrounded by tiny, perfect diamonds. The band is worked with scrolling designs, elegant curves and twists that make my knees weak.