Whiskey Lullaby(44)

I dropped my chin to my chest. It was such a shame that we let our own insecurities tear us apart. But I knew how much losing him hurt, and he was no longer that bad boy from the wrong side of town. He was famous. If we couldn’t make things work when life was as simple as Rockford, how on earth could we make them work now? Only a fool would set themselves up for that kind of heartache twice. “It doesn’t matter.” I swiped my key from the ground and shoved it in the lock.

“The hell it doesn’t!” His voice echoed through the apartment breezeway. “I fucking love you, I’ve been in love with you since the first time I kissed you, so say what you want, but don’t you say it doesn’t matter!”

My breath caught, but all I could do was stare at the gold apartment number on my door. Common sense told me giving into him would be a disaster, maybe he was the right person, but this truly was the wrong time. But my heart—God, my heart was racing, pleading for me to not let him go as I reached for the doorknob. “I loved you too,” I whispered. I’d imagined telling Noah I loved him for so long, wondered how it may have changed things, and yet, that felt like a dagger right through the middle of my chest.

“Loved?” he laughed, not an arrogant laugh, but one full of vulnerability. “Fine, then why did you move here?”

I froze at the door.

“Why did you move here?” he repeated before stepping up behind me. His warm breath fanned over my neck and I closed my eyes, remembering what he felt like. Goosebumps scattered over my arms. “Because it was as far away as you could get? Well, you know what? This was my escape. This was my place to run to, so why on earth would you run here if you were running away from me?”

I clenched my teeth. No matter how much whatever it was between us hurt, there was still a peace I could only find in those moments. “I don’t know.”

He stood there breathing, and I stood staring at the ground. After a few seconds of silence, he stepped beside me. Dragging a hand down his face, he reached into his back pocket and brought out an envelope, handing it to me. “Here.”

I grabbed it from him, my brow wrinkling in confusion when my eyes landed on the cursive handwriting. “Where did you…”

“There was an entire packet waiting for me when I got home after the first half of the tour.” He shrugged and stepped across the walkway, leaning against the wall and propping one foot on the brick.

My chest tightened. “What?”

“I’d been gone for months. Months, I guess… I don’t know.” He sighed. “Look, I didn’t fly twenty hours to just say ‘hey’ and be on my way, so you take as much time as you need.” He pushed off the building. “I’m gonna go right over there and sit.” He pointed across the street at the beach. “Do whatever you need, think whatever you need to think through, but I’m not leaving.” Shaking his head, he walked down the breezeway and across the yard.

What am I doing? There are some moments in life that seem so surreal, that are so high on emotion, there is no logical reaction. Your head and heart war with each other, tearing you to shreds on the inside. You should. You shouldn’t. It’s so right, but what if it’s wrong? This topsy-turvy cycle of excitement and doubt, constantly swirling with fear. An unsteady anticipation formed in my chest and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to scream or cry. Over the past year, I’d painted him to be some guy I wasn’t so sure he was. I told myself he was a liar. I made myself believe that everything he said, every moment we shared wasn’t sincere. I allowed him to be the bad boy everyone swore he was, but, until he walked away I never believed he was. I’d turned him into the villain I needed him to be so I could go on with my life, to convince myself I hadn’t lost a thing.

But, I had. I’d lost so much.

I glanced back at the envelope in my hand, at my mother’s very distinct handwriting before pushing the door to my apartment open. How had he ended up with this? I didn’t even close the door before I slipped my finger underneath the edge of the flap and tore it open, unfolding the familiar stationery with pink and purple roses along the top.

My hand shook as I read over the first few lines:



My Dear Sweet Hannah,

I may not be able to hold you any longer, but I do believe that my soul will always follow you. I hope you feel that. And I hope you can forgive me for leaving you, I didn’t want to, but some things are beyond our control.

Death and love...

You’ve turned into such a wonderful, strong woman. I’m proud of you. Always know that you made me so proud, Hannah. Sweet and caring, loving. You were my reason for this life, I know that more than anything, and I can only hope that the life you lead once I’m gone will be everything you deserve.

We have one life, my dear. One. However short or long, that isn’t our choice, but the person we spend it with, that is our choice to make. And that is why I sent Noah your letters.

I hope you can forgive me, but you thought he didn’t fight for you. You can’t expect someone to fight for something they never knew was theirs to begin with. You loved him, that was evident to me, and the way he loved you—Hannah, listen to his songs. The poor boy sings those songs about loving you every single night. You told me it hurt too much to write those letters, imagine the pain he endures just to sing those songs to you. I’m convinced that’s why he sings them, hoping you’ll listen.

Love doesn’t have to make sense to work, it only needs to exist. And the most beautiful of flowers bloom in the most unlikely of places.

I love you, my dear, sweet Hannah, and I’ll miss you. Please, when you remember me, smile, I had a wonderful life, and maybe that’s why God took me sooner than we’d have liked, he knew I was already content.

You’ll forever be in my heart.

I love you,

Mother

If I closed my eyes, I could hear her voice. Tears streamed down my face, my breath caught on a soft cry. Even after she was gone, she tried to take care of me. How could I be upset with that?





42





Noah





I’d been to Melbourne, Cambria, Sydney, but never Perth. I stood at the shoreline, watching the waves form into whitecaps under the moon and then roll to shore, crashing against the soft sand. And the stars. God, the stars. Over the past year, I’d forgotten to take the time to just look up at them.

My phone buzzed in my pocket for the fifteenth time since I’d come out to the beach. I knew it was Debra, threatening me. The first text she sent was filled with profanities. I responded to that one, saying I’d told the arenas I intended to refund the tickets from my own account. All that did was piss her off even more. Now it was ringing. Damn, she isn’t going to give up! I pulled my phone to my ear. “What?” I snapped.

“You canceled three shows!”

“We went over this over text. Yes.”

“I can’t… I can’t even…”

“Look, do you need anything else, I’m kinda busy here and I have to leave for a flight in about twelve hours so…”

“I swear to God, Noah, if you didn’t make the money you did…” She let the empty threat hang in the air for dramatic effect, I guess.

“Yeah, yeah. Alright. I’ll be in Chicago on Sunday.”

“You damn well better!” Click.

She just had to have the last word…

A shadow fell onto the sand beside me and I turned around.

“You read the letters then,” she said softly, staring out at the ocean.

“Yeah.” I sighed. “I wish you would have told me.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was some sheltered little—”

“No, Hannah, how you felt. I wish you’d told me how you felt, because had I known…” I shook my head, thinking of the past year and a half I could have spent with her. Thinking about the moments we lost because of stupidity, because we feared rejection. Hell, I had taken chances with so many things in life, I should have taken a chance that she’d break my heart.

Sighing, I swept my hand over her jaw. “I’ve only ever loved you. It was only ever you.”

She rubbed her lips together. I leaned down to kiss her. Soft at first, then hard. My tongue brushed her teeth and I fisted her hair, tugging on it as I deepened the kiss. Kissing her was like breathing in a sunrise, a promise to start over, to not fuck up, and I soaked that up. This woman was my muse, the first thing I thought about when I woke up, the last thing I saw in my mind before I fell asleep. Hannah Blake was the definition of my everything.

I placed my forehead against hers, stroking my thumbs over her jaw.

“I love you too much to lose you twice,” she whispered.

“You never lost me the first time.”





Epilogue





Noah Summer 2017





Love isn’t easy.

As much as I’d love to brag and say it was like a Southern version of “Cinderella” after I flew out to Australia to get her, it wasn’t. But, you take away the singing mice, pumpkin carriage, and fairy godmother, and it was close.

“Boy”—Grandma swatted something from my shoulder— “you sure dress up nice.”

“Thanks, Grandma.”

Smiling, she patted my cheek. “I done alright raising you, I guess.”