It wasn’t the kind of conversation you had on the phone, though. Tomorrow she’d go to his house, knock on the door, and hope like hell he’d open up. And tonight? Well, she’d probably toss and turn in her bed the same way she had last night. She should be getting used to that by now.
She didn’t register the slam of a car door at first. Not until she heard shuffling on what sounded like the sidewalk outside of the bungalow. It was probably their neighbor coming home from a late shift.
Van turned on her side, curling her legs up to her chest, and tried not to think about how empty her bed was without him.
And then she heard five familiar notes cutting through the night time silence. A drum beat cut in, sultry and low. Had their neighbor left his stereo going in his car?
She knew the song by heart. Take My Breath Away by Berlin. The first song she and Tanner had made love to, during that long, hot summer of the Tom Cruise retrospective at the drive-in.
She’d loved that movie, as schmaltzy as it was. Loved the way Tom looked in his flight jacket, the way he stared at Kelly McGillis like she was his world.
And that sex scene. It had done things to her teenaged body that she didn’t know how to deal with. All she knew was that she’d played that song daily over that summer. Tanner had complained about it incessantly.
Yet he’d stored it on his iPod touch, and played it the night they’d let things go too far. Although it had been uncomfortable and awkward and the ground had turned her pretty pink dress black, that night was still the most precious memory she had.
Tanner’s kisses, his touch, the sound of Berlin echoing from his phone. The way her body undulated beneath his, as he asked her again and again if she was okay.
And she had been okay. More than okay. Until she discovered her mom’s pregnancy and everything she’d planned for was torn apart.
The music was getting louder. Berlin was getting to the chorus. She turned onto her other side, waiting for the car door to shut.
But it didn’t. Frowning, she climbed out of her bed, padding in bare feet to the window and pulling the curtain aside.
Instead of a car with it’s door open, she saw a man standing in the front yard, a large portable speaker held over his head, as he stared at the window where she was standing.
Tanner Hartson.
Her eyes caught his, and she felt it right in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t look away if she tried. He was completely still, his biceps tight with his arms raised up, the song they first made love to echoing out of the speaker.
She went to open the window, but he shook his head. So she pulled her hand back and watched, listening to the song, her gaze caught in his as the memories of that night assailed her.
She knew exactly what he was doing. Channelling his inner Lloyd Dobler. She could remember watching Say Anything with him and them both laughing at how awkward the Boombox Scene was.
Tanner looked almost as awkward, though he was doing a good job of hiding it. But how could you feel anything else when you were in somebody’s front yard in the middle of the night playing eighties music?
A light came on in the house across the road. She could see curtains being pulled, windows being opened, heads staring out. The neighborhood would be talking about this for a week.
The amazing thing was she didn’t care. He was here and he was playing their song and nothing else mattered. For four long minutes, she stood at the window, her body aching for him, her heart so full she couldn’t speak even if he could hear her.
And then the music ended. He lowered his arms and turned on his heel, walking away from the bungalow and Van. The next moment, she heard a car door slam and the engine start up. It was only when she saw the Camaro pull away that she let the curtain fall back over the window and walked back to her bed, sitting down and pulling her knees against her chest.
That’s when she started to laugh. She couldn’t help it. It was so strange and yet perfect. He hadn’t said a word and neither had she, yet it had felt exactly like a conversation. Or the start of one, anyway.
She fell back on the mattress, her back bouncing against the springs, wondering what was going through Tanner’s mind right now.
Maybe she’d ask him tomorrow. No scratch that, she’d definitely ask him tomorrow. But for now she’d try to sleep and dream of Tanner Hartson and his Lloyd Dobler impersonation.
As far as she was concerned, it was everything.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“So now I know you’re completely crazy,” Becca said, grinning from ear to ear as she stood on Tanner’s doorstep. “You’re the talk of the town, standing in the Butlers’ front yard playing eighties music at one a.m..” She tipped her head to the side, the smile still playing on her lips. “Have you totally lost it?”
“It was a gesture.” Tanner shrugged. “Meant for her, not anybody else.”
“But what does it mean?” Becca asked. “From what I hear, the two of you didn’t even talk. You just stood there, played music, then drove away.” She shook her head. “Why didn’t you ask her to talk to you?”
Tanner sighed. “Because it was one in the morning. I just wanted to let her know I was thinking about her.”
He hadn’t been doing anything else. Last night he’d tossed and turned in bed, desperate to figure out how to make things better. His brothers had been right. He needed to change something. Himself. He’d messed things up between them twice because of his damn fear of rejection. He couldn’t hurt her a third time. He wouldn’t let himself.
She deserved to be taken care of. And he wanted to be the man to do it. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and ward off all the people trying to hurt her. The Fairfaxes, her mom… all of them had used and abused her.
But he’d been the worst of them all. Because she’d trusted him back when they were kids. Believed him when he told her he’d always be there for her. But when she’d pushed him away, he hadn’t fought for her at all. Because he couldn’t bear to risk getting hurt again.
Well this time was different. When he’d seen her at her bedroom window looking out at him, it felt like his heart was finally coming back to life. Her eyes had been wide, her expression soft, and those lips, those damn fine kissable lips, had been parted, singing in time to the lyrics.
When their gaze connected, electricity buzzing between them, he felt full of her.
He hadn’t been able to pull his eyes away. Hadn’t wanted to. He’d let the music speak for him. She took his breath away. Took everything he had to give. And he wanted to give it to her again. Forever.
“You’re gonna fight for her, right?” Becca asked. “Because I don’t think I could stand it if you give up. Not this time.”
“Yeah,” he said softly, “I’m going to fight for her.” Not with fists or weapons or anything else. This was going to be a quiet fight. Like their four-minute, emotion-filled stare last night, it might not involve words. But it was a fight nonetheless.
He wasn’t only fighting for her, he was fighting for himself. And against himself. Punching down the little kid in him who’d lost his mom and was afraid of losing anything else ever again.
That kid might be the toughest opponent he’d ever faced.