“I’m so proud of you,” she said. “This is huge, Johnny. Huge.” She smiled. “Will you try to play?”

I looked down at my fingers, perfectly positioned on the strings like they’d never left. I thought about all of the songs that I’d written over the years, most of which I had memorized. I thought about Bex’s songs, the ones I watched her play. I knew all of those by heart, too.

I began strumming the chords, closing my eyes as I felt the reverberation of the notes all the way through my body. I let my mind go, letting go of all of the pent up anxiety and fear about allowing myself to feel this again. Who was I becoming? The man that years ago swore to never fall in love again and never play again was doing both of those things, right here in this room. Because of her.

Before I realized what I was playing, I heard Bex’s low voice joining in to the melody. I was playing her song, ‘Broken.’ I identified with a lot of things that she sang, but this one really encapsulated so much of my past. Just like that, the final piece of me came back together again. Bex had done so much for me. She knew just when to push and when to let things go. She knew me.

When I lifted my fingers at the end of the song, I opened my eyes and looked into hers.

“Wow,” she said. “That was amazing. You did it, Johnny.”

I nodded, my throat so closed off I couldn’t speak. I did it. I played again. And I loved every fucking second of it.

“Do you feel okay?”

“Like a fucking rock star,” I said gruffly. I leaned over and captured the back of her neck with my hand, pulling her to me. “Thank you,” I said against her lips.

“Thank you,” Bex said when I pulled my lips from hers. “For being willing to open that part of you back up again. For sharing it with me. I want to play with you every day for the rest of our lives.”

I got an idea, one that I couldn’t believe I was even entertaining. It had been mere hours ago that I didn’t even know whether I’d see her again or not, and now I was having a baby and we loved each other and I was playing again.

“I want to play you something,” I said. “I wrote it a long time ago, and I was going to give it to my sister and her husband for their wedding, but I couldn’t do it. I changed it a little since then.”

“You should play it for them,” she said.

I shook my head. “It’s not for them anymore. It’s perfect for you. I’ve never actually played it, though, so it might be rough.”

Bex settled herself on her knees, bouncing like a little girl on Christmas morning. “I can’t wait.”

Was I going to do this? Was she ready for this?

I began strumming the strings again, humming in my throat until I got the tune I wanted. “This is called . . . My Forever . . .”

Who knew if my voice would even hold out, it had been so many years. “To me, love has always hurt. To you, love was never enough. It was never in the cards, never in my heart. Until you. When I see you standing there, I can’t imagine life without you in it . . . I always swore I would never fall, but when I look at you I see . . . My Forever . . .”

My voice cracked and Bex moved to my side, stroking her hand through my hair and kissing my neck. But I wasn’t done. I had to get it out.

“Now I want what I thought I couldn’t have, didn’t deserve. I want you. I want us. I want the family we will have. I want my forever . . . I always swore I would never fall, but when I look at you I see . . . my forever . . . please be, my forever . . . say you’ll be my wife . . . forever . . .”

I stopped, turning my head slightly so I could see her reaction. She was sitting stock still, her eyes so wide I could see the different colors around her pupils.

“Are you . . . was that . . .” Bex moved the guitar and climbed into my lap, her eyes full of questions that she didn’t want to ask. “You’re so fucking talented, Johnny. I knew you would be.”

“Say yes,” I whispered, gripping her hips as I flexed against her core. “Be mine. For good. Be my wife, Bexley Bryant.”

She reached her hands down and lifted my shirt, throwing it behind us. She then followed suit with her own, leaning her head down and kissing me with abandon. I twined my tongue with hers, snaking my fingers up her small shorts and to her dripping wet center.

“Answer me,” I said into her mouth, rubbing my thumb right where she wanted it.

“Johnny,” she breathed into my mouth. Her eyes opened and she stared into my face, searching for the meaning behind my words. “Are you sure?”

“Never so fucking sure of anything in my life.” I pressed a kiss to my fingers and then touched her stomach where our baby was growing. “I don’t have a fucking ring . . .”

“I don’t care about that shit,” Bex said. “I’m no fucking girl.”

I slid my finger into her, making her eyes roll before she focused back on me. “I beg to differ. You are most definitely a girl. A woman. A hot as fuck one, too.”

Bex ran her hands through my beard and up through my hair, her eyes scanning my face like she was memorizing this moment. “Yes. Abso-fucking-lutely yes.”

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard today, second only to you telling me you love me and that we’re pregnant. Now I’m going to do the other thing I’ve wanted to do all day.”

“Which is?” Bex batted her eyelashes. Playing coy with me, huh. We’d see how she liked it in a few minutes.

“I’m going to make love to my fiancée.” I’d never said those words to a woman in my life, but then again I did many things now I’d never done before.

Bex reached into my pants and caressed me, leaning over so her lips were against my ear. “Why don’t you show me how much you’ve missed me and give it to me like you want to. You know just as well as I do you don’t want to ‘make love’ right now.”

“But we’re engaged,” I said, hissing through my teeth as she rubbed me. “And pregnant.”

“And?” Bex climbed off of my lap and took me in her mouth before I could even react. She looked up at me, her lids hooded. “Do me like you want to, Johnny. Like I want you to.”

Well, I couldn’t disappoint the lady.

Johnny

Six months later . . .

“Ready?” I nodded, and Bex tapped her foot on the ground and counted us off. We started playing simultaneously, the notes flowing from our fingers like we’d always played together.

I closed my eyes, our rhythm so seamless I could do it in my sleep. We’d been playing together every day for the last six months, ever since the day our lives had changed forever. When I’d thought Bex had been shot, everything changed for me. She was carrying my baby. I loved her. She got me to play again. We were engaged.

She made me alive.

I looked over at her baby bump, so cute at almost eight months pregnant. We opted not to know what we were having. Bex was more worried than she would let on about having a stillbirth again, so we convinced her doctor to let her have a scheduled caesarean. Our baby would be born on its due date, which was not much past what would’ve been Gibson’s eleventh birthday.

We were practicing for what we were going to do later. It was a surprise that no one but Natalie knew about. We’d tried to keep it from her, but she was the band’s manager and all.

Ryver had decided a few weeks ago that he was going to move to Mexico to be with his mother and her family, leaving a spot for a guitar player in Jaded Regret. Bex had asked me the same day if I would join and not only be her second guitarist, but sing with her as well. I hadn’t needed two seconds to answer her.

Seemed that we were a powerhouse not just in bed, but also on the stage, too.

We were making our debut together tonight at a sold out show of our own. Seemed that their month long tour with Halestorm had gotten the attention of a record label. We were recording a new album with that label starting in a few months, after the baby was born. Until then, they had us playing around the state to keep Bex close to home. After hearing me play and Bex and I sing together, they’d had no issue with Ryver being replaced by me.