True for You(36)

My heart breaks for her. I can’t even breathe, because I’m hurting for her so bad. Falling to my knees, I press my head against her stomach, wrapping my arms around her. “You have all the power, not me. You have all of me. Every bit.”

Her hands go to my hair, gently stroking me. She’s always so careful, never rough unless I ask her. “I’m scared of what’s going to happen now.”

“No matter what happens, Bliss, I won’t leave you again,” I promise. “You’ll have to leave me.”

“You’d have to crush my heart before that would happen.”

“And you’d have to crush mine.” I stand up again, looking down at her. “You have my heart, and I’m trusting you with it.”

I can’t bring myself to say the words I love you, and it’s not because I don’t think she feels the same. I think she does.

But I’ve only said it to one other person and meant it. Really meant it. Now I’m not in love with that person anymore, and I wonder if by saying those three words to Bliss, if what I feel will diminish over time as well.

I don’t want to find out.

Bliss sighs, and then lifts up on her toes to kiss my cheek. “You’ve had my heart, too, Jackson. Now we just have to face the real world and see if we can hold on to them.”

“Come to bed with me,” I say.

“I’m a little sore,” she says with a shy smile.

“You’re not the only one,” I remark wryly.

She gapes at me. “Guys get sore?”

“Sensitive,” I correct, and she busts out laughing.

“Bless your heart, between that and your stomach, I don’t know how you carry on like you do.”

I roll my eyes as she climbs in our big bed. I get in too, settling beside her and pulling her into my arms. Her hand hovers over the bluebird tattoo, like she wants to touch me like usual, but she can’t bring herself to do it. So I place my hand over hers and press down, placing it directly over the tattoo.

A little sigh leaves her, familiar and sweet. I grin. “Sleepy now?”

“You’re so warm that I can’t help it.”

The power goes off, the lights come on, and then it goes dark again. The pattern repeats a few times, until it goes dark for longer than ten minutes and the generators start working again.

“Is it the generators?” she asks.

“Yes and no. I heard on the radio this morning that power crews from all over the country had come to Charleston to help out.”

“Cell phone towers can’t be far behind then.”

“Yeah.” Would it be wrong to pray for God to send another storm, one caused by Mother Nature, and not the clusterfuck that I have no doubt will happen?



Chapter Seventeen



Bliss

It feels as though I’ve barely been asleep before I’m shaken away.

I blink up at Jackson. He’s dressed, in a tailored shirt and dark slacks that make him look older. More powerful. I’ve never seen him like this, not even during the months on tour. Usually, he dressed all casual, in jeans and t-shirts.

Sitting up, I clutch the sheet to my chest. Silly, if I think about it, with everything we’ve done over the few days. The past few months while we were on tour, too.

His sexy blue eyes flicker over me. “Honeymoon’s over. The power’s back on and cell towers are working.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that it’s time to get back to the real world,” he says, and just like that, the man I’d come to love is gone. In his place is the one I recognize from the tour, arrogant and surveying his surroundings like some kind of king, but that attitude, along with his clothes, make me nervous. “Get dressed, baby doll. We‘re heading to Nashville today.”

He leaves the room and I stare at the empty space he’d just occupied. Throwing back the covers, I get out of bed and into the shower. Afterwards, I put on my prettiest outfit, the one I got married in.

I glance at the dresser. The ring he’d given to me is still sitting on the top where I’d left it. I grab it and slip it back where it belongs.

With my ring firmly in place, I walk to the living room. No one’s there, but before I can ask Jackson about it, there’s a whirring sound above the house.

“Everett sent his helicopter.” Jackson comes up behind me, cupping my shoulders, turning me toward the side yard, and letting go. The tennis court doubles as a landing zone. “Can you handle flying?”

“I’ve never been on one before.” Or a plane.

“Welcome to the lifestyles of the rich and famous,” he says before grabbing our bags. My small duffle looks shabby beside his.