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“Don’t—” Roan barked so loudly it startled me. I jumped as he lunged at me, grabbing hold of my upper arms in a grip so tight it almost bordered on pain. Something frantic flitted over his features just then, drying the rest of the rant I had stored up on my tongue. “I mean it, Alma. Don’t ever put yourself in front of that man. You hear me? You stay as far away from him as possible. Promise me.”
“Roan—”
He shook me hard enough my teeth clacked together. “Promise me, Alma. Right now.”
I couldn’t recall a time when I’d ever seen him so scared or anxious. “Okay,” I whispered, wanting—no, needing—to chase that fear from his eyes. “I’ll stay far away from him. I promise.”
His shoulders sank on a deep, gusty sigh of relief. He used his grip on me to pull me against him and wrapped me in his arms like he wanted to hold tight and never let go. “Thank you, baby. Thank you for caring and for being pissed for me. Thank you for being you.”
“Always,” I murmured into his chest. “I love you, Roan. That’s what a person does when they love someone.”
He pulled his head back so he could look down at me, smiling for the very first time since I got home, but I could still see the struggle he was battling inside.
“You know, this bullshit won’t matter much longer. You have my word. I’m going to get signed to a label soon, I can feel it in my bones. It’s going to happen. They’re going to put my songs on the radio and they’ll be a hit and we’ll be rich, baby. It’ll be you and me against the world.” He locked his fingers together at the small of my back as I smiled up at him. “I’ll buy you a mansion and give you everything you could ever want, and you’ll give me babies. We’ll have our own family, Freckles, and mine’ll be nothing more than a bad memory we left behind.”
“I don’t need the mansion,” I said through a smile as I hugged him tight. “I don’t need material things. As long as I have you, that’s all I’ll ever need.”
He pressed my head back to his chest and rested his chin on top of it. “I know, baby. But that won’t stop me from wanting to give you the world. And I swear to you, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
17
ROAN
Well, last night certainly hadn’t gone how I’d hoped. Expected? Abso-fucking-lutely. But I’d hoped for a better outcome. Wishful thinking, I knew that. I might have been a dumbass for letting her go in the first damn place, but I wasn’t a complete moron. I knew I couldn’t expect her to just embrace me with open arms ten long, lonely years after I’d broken her heart, but a man could dream, right?
And besides, I hadn’t walked away from Alma’s house completely discouraged. There had been signs. Signs I still had a chance. Something was still in her heart for me other than disdain, hatred, or indifference. When she first opened her front door and I saw my old Music City tee hanging on her, my heart swelled so goddamn big there wasn’t room in my chest for anything else.
When I told her about Randall dying the pain that flashed in those intoxicating whiskey eyes was for me, and her fierce whisper that she wasn’t sad he no longer walked this earth... well, as sick as it might have made me, it had been damn near impossiblenotto kiss her when I heard that. She was the only one I’d ever trusted enough to share most of the horror stories of my family. The only one who really and truly understood. And even though I’d hurt her—broken her, she’d said—she was still on my side when it came to him.
When I held her face in my hands I’d felt it. That same spark had lit me up from the inside every time we touched. Hell, I’d even felt her enter the room before I turned around and saw her there. My body and soul still recognized its other half when it came near, even all these years later. I had to believe that meant something.
I would have gladly given every penny I had to go back in time and change what I did. If only that were an option. All I could do was berate myself for fucking up so epically in the first place.
After spending more than twenty-four hours in Alma’s space, the warm, cozy little space she called home, coming back to the inn had proven harder than I’d expected. At Alma’s house, I slept on the couch with the alarm on my phone set to wake me up every hour so I could check on her, and still, I’d slept more peacefully under her roof than I had the night before at the inn.
I’d tossed and turned on the pillowtop mattress, beneath the downy cloud-like pillows and blankets. Because I couldn’t hear her soft, chuffing snore coming from the other room. Because she wasn’t there for me to check on to make sure the fever didn’t return. Hell, even because I didn’t have her fat-ass cat to nearly crush my chest when it jumped up to sleep on the too-short sofa with me.
I finally gave up on sleep around five earlier this morning. I pulled one of the large chairs by the fireplace over to the window and sat down with my guitar. I didn’t have a view of the stars at home like the one right outside my window here in Hope Valley. The city lights made it impossible. But here, the dark night sky was speckled with millions of tiny white dots. It reminded me of the freckles that ran along the bridge of her delicate nose and the tops of her cheekbones.
I spent so long in front of that window I’d managed to come up with a brand-new melody for a new song as the sun was rising over the mountain peaks in the distance. Christ, it really was pretty here. I probably could have sat at that window all day, looking down at the town while coming up with music I was actually excited about playing. The songs I had been coming up with since arriving in Hope Valley sounded more like the album my label didn’t want from me. More like the music I created before being signed. It sounded more likeme. I hadn’t been this excited to play and sing in I didn’t know how long.
Once the sun had lifted fully over the mountains and the rest of the town started to wake up, I dressed and headed downstairs. Like most everyone else in this town, the rest of the people staying at the inn didn’t seem to care one way or another who I was. I’d signed a few autographs here and there, posed for a couple pictures once the person assured me they weren’t going to list the location on social media, but that had been the extent of it.
I was shocked to find I actually enjoyed going down to the main dining room and having my meals there with the other guests. I liked catching up with Claire or her parents, Paul and Diane, who’d inherited the inn from Diane’s parents, who’d inherited from theirs, and so on and so on. The Valley Inn had been in their family for generations, and they had some incredible stories that only made the history of this place all the richer.
I enjoyed watching the young kid, Brett, who worked on the grounds, get all flustered and nervous as he attempted to flirt with Claire. There was something between the two of them, and as odd as it was, I found myself hoping it played out while I was still around so I could witness it.
Back in Nashville, I kept to myself. I didn’t have many friends, mainly because it was hard to trust people when you had as much money and fame as I did. In the early days, I’d been way too fucking trusting, and the vultures had descended. It was too damn hard to know who to trust; it was easier to keep myself closed off.
It wasn’t until I got here that I realized how boring and lonely my life had become. Or maybe it had always been that way, but I’d been young and stupid at first, thinking that the relationships I built at events and parties with other celebrities actually meant something. But like the people I was told I needed to socialize with, they were hollow and self-serving.
I’d actually stopped to give it some thought the other night while I lay on Alma’s couch, waiting to give her the next dose of meds. I tried to think of anyone in my life who was there because they really wanted to be, not because they were being paid or wanted to get something out of being seen with me. And I couldn’t come up with a single goddamn person.
The closest thing I had to a friend was Lincoln. And he was here, in this small town. It made me start to question what was left in Nashville for me.
My boots clomped on the stairs as I made my way down to the front lobby. I’d gotten so used to this place and felt so much at home now that I no longer bothered using the side stairs for more privacy.
Brett stood in front of the desk in the lobby, clutching his ballcap in his hands as he stared at Claire like a lovesick puppy.
