“How,” she choked. “How did you write that? How did you know?”
“I see you, Liv. When you smile, I see your soul.”
She launched herself at me. I caught her around the waist, pulling her close. Her mouth was hot, sweet, and wet. Her grip tight and frantic. She pressed her body close to mine, kissing me hard. I tugged her as close as I could, kissing her back with all the passion I felt for her.
Jesus, she was perfect.
I moved us farther into the shadows, knowing her privacy was important. When we finally surfaced for air, I buried my face in her neck.
“Your words,” she whispered. “They were so beautiful.”
“I wrote them for you.”
She tightened her arms.
In the distance, I could hear myself being paged.
“I have to get back.”
“I know.”
“You’ll stay?”
“Yes.”
The rest of the night went smoothly. I sat with Maddox and Aiden between the sets, Liv, Cami, and Dee chatting. I slipped my hand under the table and found Liv’s, squeezing her fingers. Her palm rested in mine as if it was meant to be there.
“I don’t think I’ll make it through the next set,” Dee said with a yawn. “It was a busy week.”
Maddox winked as he teased her. “That’s what happens when you get old.”
She elbowed him in the ribs. “Take me home, and I’ll show you old.”
He stood quickly. “That, my friends, is an invitation I cannot resist. Anyone need a lift? Liv, you good?”
“Yes,” she assured him. “I’m going to stay.”
“Okay.”
Aiden stood. “We should grab a ride with you. We took an Uber since I knew I’d be drinking.”
“Sure,” Maddox agreed. “We’ll drop you.” He furrowed his brow. “You sure, Liv?”
“Yeah, a friend is meeting me. I’m good.”
“All right.”
They left after lots of hugs and fist bumps, leaving Liv and me at the table. I nudged her gently. “A friend?”
“You said we were friends.”
I lifted her hand to mine and kissed it. “I did. We are.”
“You play until twelve?”
“Yep. Then we’re going somewhere alone.”
She inhaled fast. “Um…”
“I only want some time, Liv. To talk and to be with you. I don’t expect anything.”
“Sammy is with Judy until Sunday. I’ll pick her up, and we’ll go to the park after breakfast.”
“And?”
“We can go to the apartment—if you want.”
I squeezed her hand. “I want.”
Liv’s apartment seemed quiet without Mouse. I wandered around, looking at the pictures she had of Sammy growing up. Many of them were photos of the two of them smiling into the camera. I recognized a lot of spots around Toronto and thought of a few places I could take them. Maybe we could make some more memories to add to the walls.
Liv disappeared into the kitchen and returned, handing me a steaming mug.
“What’s this?”
“Your voice sounds a little rough. It’s herbal tea with some honey to soothe it.”
I sipped the sweet liquid. “Thanks.”
“You’re very popular.”
I shrugged. “We have a good following, and we enjoy it.”
“No big aspirations for stardom?”
Suddenly restless, I prowled the room. I finished my tea, setting down the mug.
“I’m content with my life, Liv. Stardom and the trappings of it hold no appeal to me.”
She frowned. “I’m sorry. I feel as if I hit a sore spot there.”
“Sore spot—no. A part of my life I try not to think about a lot—yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s in the past, but at times, it’s difficult to think about.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I wish I could go back and warn myself.”
She reached out her hand and I took it, sitting beside her.
“I understand,” she murmured.
I thought of the personal stories she had shared with me. I squared my shoulders, knowing if we were going to go forward, I would have to share my past with her as well.
“I know you do. I think you, of all people, would understand.” I huffed out a lungful of air. “And if you want to know, I’ll tell you.”
“You would?” she asked, hesitant. “It’s not too personal? I want to know you, but I don’t want to push.”
I tangled my hand into her hair and brushed a kiss to her head, inhaling the sweet fragrance of her shampoo. Honey and wildflowers. It was intoxicating.
“No, Livvy, it’s not too personal. I don’t like to talk about it, but you deserve to know.”
She squeezed my hand.
I heaved a long, heavy sigh and sorted my thoughts out in my head.
“When I was in my twenties, music was my dream. Hell, as long as I can remember, it was my goal. Play music, travel the world, and have a family. I wanted it all—but when I was younger, music was the drive. My parents weren’t as big on the idea, although they were supportive.” I chuckled at a memory. “My dad was a carpenter. He could build anything, and I used to work with him in his shop. When I was young, I watched him create pieces of furniture, and I was fascinated. When I got older, I started helping him. He taught me everything I know. I know he hoped I would take over his business, but music was my first love.”
“Did you always play blues?”
“No, when I was younger, rock and country were my favorites. I got my first guitar when I was nine. I bugged my parents for months before they finally took me to a pawn shop and bought me a secondhand guitar. I think they thought it was a phase.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“Nope. I had three things in my life. Music, school, and working with my dad. Because of my size, the coaches at school were constantly after me to be part of the football or basketball team, but I was never interested. I liked the gym and working out, but team sports weren’t for me. I would rather go for a run early in the morning, then spend the day with my guitar or in the shop with my dad.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
I tapped the end of her nose playfully. “Like all fledgling musicians, I became part of a band when I was a teenager. I was in a few of them until I met Brett. We formed our own band, and it became quite successful. We were sort of a cross between rock and country. Edgy, but with soul. We practiced a lot and got a few gigs at local schools and places like that. I wrote a lot of our stuff, and we became quite well known. Eventually we got noticed by a label and signed.”
“Wow. Would I know the name of your band?”
“The Back Roads.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh my God.”
I lifted one shoulder. “We were successful for a while.”
“You were huge. I remember your music. I have your music!” She gazed at me in shock. “How did I not know you were part of them?”
“I was one of the guitar players. Not the front guy. Brett was the main focus most of the time. I wrote the music and played it. He loved the spotlight, and I was happy for him to have it. We all were.”