AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Did what?” he asks, licking his lips.
Motioning around the studio, I say, “You’re recording your own songs.”
He stands, leaning his butt against the console. Crossing his arms, Rone’s eyes travel to where Axl’s gold records hang on the wall. “No matter what kind of success you have, in the end, the road is the one thing that matters. I was always on the run. To start from complete zero is terrifying as fuck.”
Turning, he looks at the guys passing around a piece of paper with the new lyrics he wrote this afternoon. “It’s frustrating. Still an amazing thing to go through.” He sighs, locking eyes with me. “Don’t get me wrong, I still question every damn decision, every chord change, every lyric I sing.” He takes another deep breath before giving me a sad smile. “That’s what you taught me, babe.”
“What?”
“To keep going, to get up. Try to experience all the beautiful things life has to offer, take the pain, and keep working on what we are passionate about.”
“Thank you for that, but it wasn’t easy. I’m still working on it,” I say.
“You know we did a lot of amazing things together. For one, we cared about each other. I’m proud of what we had, proud of everything we have gone through, and are going through.” Little lines appear between his brows. “It was fucking hard, and there was no goddamn roadmap. It was—”
“Life,” I finish.
“Yeah. I’m sorry we couldn’t figure it out together.”
“Rone,” I begin.
“No, damn it, let me say this now,” he demands, his drawl husky. “I know you can’t control all the shit. It can tear you apart, but you don’t fucking give up, Al. You don’t stop fucking living.”
“I didn’t,” I say, shaking my head. “It was too hard.”
“To figure it out together?” he asks, hanging his head.
I nod. “And living with you.”
He looks away, clearly trying to hide the emotion in his eyes.
Standing, I reach out and brush his hair back. He grunts and takes me into his arms, holding me. His lips dust across my cheek. It’s a small kiss, but my skin burns where his mouth grazed my flesh.
Letting me go, he groans and something simmers inside my heart. And I’m scared to death of what his kiss might mean, where it will take us.
“Our story isn’t over.” He gazes at me. “This is our fucking story—nobody else’s. Remember that,” he drawls before walking back into the studio and picking up his guitar. He says something to Sterling, who nods and grabs his Les Paul as well, and they start to play.
Rone looks at me through the glass window, and my stomach drops. I know by the way his eyes soften, he is telling the truth.
I work the next few hours, laying the groundwork for the song. After a small break, Rone helps me clean up the place. The guys head home to Sterling’s house to crash while Navarone finishes his guitar part.
After reassuring Dad he looks great in his white dress shirt instead of his normal attire, tie dye and hoodie, I make coffee and put on one of the band’s new songs. Taking my seat next to him behind the console, I hand Navarone his cup, yawning a little. He lays his feet on the chair in front of him, leaning his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes, listening to the recording.
“Why did you call the band Outlaw?” I ask to defuse the awkwardness on my part.
He brushes his thumb over his plump bottom lip before turning to me. “Come on, you know us boys call ourselves The Outlaws, and I love outlaw music like Willie’s and Hank.”
“I remember you always having their music on repeat when we were chilling on the tour bus.” I giggle, shaking my head. “Back then, you had the whole cowboy look down without trying,” I say, chuckling softly.
He grins, rubbing his hand over his chin. “‘Country boy charm,’ as I recall,” he jokes, winking back at me. He laughs out loud. “Man, it’s all a load of crap. This is who I always was; it isn’t an act. Hell, I spend more time on Granddad’s farm in the Smokies than I care to admit,” he says.
“I know,” I chime in. “You were never good at acting.”
His great, beautiful smile dries my mouth.
“You always saw through me. Fuck, those looks you gave me when I was talking shit—I missed that.” He laughs, and his rich, deep voice goes right to the place between my thighs. I rub my sweaty palms on my jeans and he sees it. A soft, shy smile tugs on his lips as his gaze pierces me.
“Sometimes you needed to be put back in your place,” I ground out.
