I pushed back into the room. Jack stepped back quickly from the side of the bed. Skip flushed and adjusted the blankets. Then he took in my face.
“Oh no,” Skip said.
“What?” Jack asked, his face drawn with worry.
“Sanders has crazy-idea eyes.”
“Oh boy, do I!” I rubbed my hands eagerly.
“Did you and Roxy figure things out?” Skip asked.
“Not even a little,” I said grinning.
“So you’re not happy?” Jack asked in clear confusion, looking between the two of us.
“No. Not really. But I think I can be,” I said. “But I’m going to need help.”
It was officially time to say goodbye to the Sanders I had been and start my new life.
Chapter 28
Sanders
Two nights later I found myself in an ultra-modern cabin nestled in the Smokies. Actually, scratch that, it was totally a mansion that looked like it had been pulled straight from the pages of a fancy home interior magazine. Did conducting really make this sort of money? I was in the wrong business. I would have loved to go exploring more but the owner was currently staring at me with daggers in his eyes and arms crossed. I looked around and behind me. Yep, definitely glaring at me.
“Devlin, he’s cool,” this came from Ford, who shot the big guy a skeptical glance. “He just messed up. You and I can’t throw stones for that.”
Devlin’s frown deepened and he uncrossed his arms. He looked familiar but scowled every time I tried to place his face. Apparently, while I’d been away, all these guys had grown close in their proximity to the women of the SWS. Devlin, the scary one, had recently connected with his longtime love, Kim Dae. Ford Rutledge and Suzie Samuels were engaged. Ford and Devlin had worked together with Ford’s Fosters, much like Jack and Skip had volunteered their time. Interestingly enough, it was Devlin who invited us all to his mansion to make a game plan, but despite the invite, I didn’t exactly feel welcomed.
“I didn’t leave for two months,” Devlin defended.
As I paced a living room the size of my entire apartment, Skip and Jack brought beers over from the kitchen. Well, Skip just scooted on his wheeled stool thing and Jack carried the beers.
“But you did let her leave,” Jack said.
Devlin asked me in a deep, rumbling voice, “Two months and you didn’t do anything to win her back? No wonder she’s protected herself against you.”
“I wrote her letters. The whole time,” I said. “I don’t know if she got them but the idea was there.”
“Letters?” Ford asked with obvious skepticism.
“What’s wrong with that?” The big, scary man glared at Ford.
Ford’s eyebrows shot up. “No. Nothing. Very romantic.” He cleared his throat and turned back to me. “What are you going to do, Sanders?” Ford asked.
“I’m not sure. I need to do something big.”
“What does she want more than anything?” Ford asked.
“Could you write her a song?” Devlin said at the same time.
“I think she just wants to be loved for who she is. What we all want,” I said to Ford. Then I turned to Devlin. “Unless I changed the words to ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,’ I got nothing.”
“Well, what do you bring to the table?” Jack asked. There was a definite defensiveness to his tone. He’d not exactly warmed up to me. Hopefully he would in time.
Skip looked from Jack to me with a frown and then added, “Meaning what can you do for her that no other person in the world could?”
The three men looked at me expectantly. The reality of my situation hit me. Then I remembered my father’s letters.
