Blue Horizons (A Horizons Novel Book 1) (39 page)

Her eyes scan my face, she starts breathing harder, and her hand moves to rub the bandage on her head. “So, you two aren’t . . . ?”

She can’t be serious, especially after that weekend in Nashville. “Aren’t what?” I ask, feeling slightly annoyed, but amused at the same time.

“Together?” Her eyebrows raise in question.

I bust out laughing and she flinches. “No, but it’s nice to know what you really think of me.” My tone is sarcastic, and if I’m honest with myself, I’m hurt.

“But, that morning, I heard you and Clay . . .” She drops her head, looking at her lap.

That morning! In my condo!

“Wait. I thought you left?” I sit up and turn to face her.

“I did. But as I got in the elevator, I felt stupid for jumping to conclusions over a text, so I went back to talk to you. I heard you tell Clay that you had asked her to marry you.” She looks so sad.

Running my hand over my face, I let out a deep sigh. “Ava, Juliet and I made a stupid pact back when we were twenty. You know the one, if neither of us is married at thirty we would get married. Last summer when she brought it up again, I seriously entertained the idea. Clay didn’t know.”

Her eyes widen and she crosses her arms over her chest. “So, you were planning to marry her?” she asks biting down on her bottom lip.

“No. I never would have gone through with it, but I understood why she brought it up. Both of us were in a really dark place. Her ex hurt her badly, and after the divorce, she kind of changed, decided that finding someone new to love wasn’t worth the risk. Whereas I was looking for something, anything that could drag me out of my downward spiral. Ava, I love her, but not like that. Not at all. She’s my family.”

“She’s divorced?” Her hands grip the couch next to her legs.

“Yes.”

She gets up and starts pacing around the room. Back and forth, I watch her and think how this conversation is pretty similar to the one I had with Clay. As I was making plans to head to New York to drop off the book, he came over, and with a six-pack, we hashed it out. I still can’t believe he hit me, but it’s nice to know it wasn’t because he thought I wasn’t good enough for her, but more along the lines of, “You’re going to ruin her life by not allowing her to find someone who truly loves her.” He was right, and I knew it all along. I just hadn’t pulled my head out of my ass yet to tell her. I left her wondering for way too long.

Juliet’s a smart girl. She’s pretty, genuine, and has a lot to offer someone—someone else. She does agree with me, and maybe by me finding someone to love, it’ll give her more courage to try again. That guy was a dick, but not all of us are.

Stopping right in front of me, Ava looks me in the eyes and asks, “You two never . . .”

“No. Never have been, never will. I did kiss her once when I was fourteen, but that was more out of a curiosity of kissing than a desire to kiss her.”

“How long have you known her?”

“Since I was thirteen.” I’ll never forget that day. It’s bittersweet really.

“What?” She’s still confused.

“I told you, after my grandfather died, I moved in with Clay and his family. She’s his sister. I thought you knew that.”

Her jaw drops open and then snaps shut.

“His sister. Ash, how would I have known that?” Her voice is slightly raised.

“Because I’ve talked about that time of my life with you and told you they became my family. Juliet and Clay are all I have now. Well, and Bryce too.” Bryce was an unexpected, but very welcome, addition.

“Who’s Bryce?”

“Her son.”

“Oh. You never mentioned he had a sister. What was I supposed to think? At the blue grass concert she called you, at the benefit she was with you, her text after the morning of your show is what woke me, you admit to Clay you proposed, you were mad when I asked about her in my hallway, and there are so many photos of the two of you together online and half the time she’s listed as your girlfriend.”

Shit.
That’s a lot, and I had no idea.

Other than my profession, I never tried to hide anything from her. In fact, I’ve been more open with her than I have with anyone, ever. It never even occurred to me that she might think differently about my relationship with Juliet than what it actually is. Yes, the media always liked to romanticize her and I, but they all know she’s Clay’s sister. She’s been around from day one.

“What do you mean I got mad at you in the hallway?” Leaning forward, I reach for her leg, but she steps back and my hand drops. I don’t like the space or the tension between us—at all.

“You did. I asked you about her and you scowled at me.”

Getting up off the couch, I move to stand in front of her. “I wasn’t angry at you. I was irritated because I was trying to figure out why you walked out, what had happened to
us
, and you brought her up. At the time, to me, she was an irrelevant topic of conversation and I didn’t understand why you were bringing her up.”

“Oh.” She looks away from me and touches the bandage again on her head. Her eyes squeeze shut; it must be hurting her.

Wandering back into the kitchen, I grab her some pain medicine and a bottle of water. She appreciatively takes it from me and swallows it down.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, and then looks at me in confusion. “Ash . . .”

“Yeah?” My eyebrows raise.

“Where do you keep all of your clothes?”

“What?” I ask, chuckling.

“It’s just, the closet at the condo in Nashville is really empty. It looks more like a place you crash at, versus live.”

My gaze on her grows serious as I think about how this might look from her point of view. Taking the bottle, I toss it on the couch, and move to sit on the armrest closest to her. “Ava, my clothes are spread out between the tour bus, the lake house, and the condo. I’m a pretty simple guy and don’t need a whole lot.”

“Oh,” she pauses thinking about my answer. “Now I feel kind of stupid.” She drops her head and looks away from me.

“Don’t, I can see how everything combined might be misleading or confusing. You know, after the benefit, you didn’t ask me about her; I just assumed you knew who she was.”

“Well, I didn’t,” she says, frowning.

“I’m sorry,” and I really am. She should have asked me and I should have pushed harder in New York City.

“So, Bryce isn’t yours?” She looks up at me with a very blank expression.

My hands squeeze the fabric of the armrest. “No. I told you we’ve never been together. Why would you assume that?” Not that I’d mind, I love the kid immensely and would take him in a heartbeat should the unthinkable happen.

She pulls her phone from her pocket and moves to sit next to me. I watch her type in my name along with “son.” Image after image pops up of me with him over the years. Everything from him being a newborn, to recently when we were spotted in the park.

Shit.
Well, that explains how she came to that conclusion.

Covering the phone with my hand, I push it down to her lap to gain her attention. “Ava, he’s not mine.”

She lets out a breath and then stands back up to put some distance between us. I really hate the distance.

Ava regards me for a minute before finally nodding her head in understanding. Breaking eye contact, she turns and walks out of the living room and toward the windows that overlook the lake.

Midstride, she freezes, and so do I.

She’s spotted her real Christmas gift.

“You have a piano,” she says without turning to look at me.

“I do.”

“I don’t remember this. Have you always, or did you recently get it?” She walks over and runs her hands over the glossy black lid—hands that when they touch me make me feel like the most important person in the world.

I swallow and try to push down my emotions. “I just got it . . . for you. Merry Christmas.” I didn’t realize I would be so nervous about her reaction, but I am. I’m worried it might be too much for her. A month ago, I was pretty sure which direction we were headed, now I’m just waiting for her lead.

“When did you get it?” She turns to look at me, leaving her hand on the top. She looks perfect next to it, just like I knew she would.

“Before Thanksgiving.” It was a little presumptuous of me to purchase it for her so far in advance, but I knew then what I wanted, and it’s her.

“Why?” Little wrinkles form between her eyes and her fingers lightly tap across the top. She’s nervous, and I don’t know why. It’s me sitting in front of her. Me and her. I like the way that sounds.

“Because I meant it when I said I wanted you to be mine. You once told me that you wanted to buy a place here on the lake. Well, I don’t want you to do that. I want you to share my home with me. I want this one to be yours.”

Her eyes widen a little and her lips part as she gasps.

“Ash . . .” her voice trails off as I push up off the armrest and approach her, her eyes never breaking from mine.

Stopping to stand directly in front of her, I place my hands on the piano, caging her in. Leaning down so we’re on the same level, and with no uncertainty, I tell her the one thing I’ve wanted to tell her for weeks. “I am in love with you.”

Her eyes fill with tears. “And I love you.”

My heart jumps and dives in my chest. I thought she did, but hearing it from her just means so much more. She’s made me the happiest man in the world, and instantly, I feel guilty for the part I played in her confusion. If I had just told her, things over the last couple of weeks would have been so different.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I guess I thought you knew.” Picking up her right hand, I kiss the piano tattoo on the inside of her wrist. Her heartbeat pulses underneath her skin and I love how it feels on my lips. “You are the only one I have ever loved like this. You, just you. Since the very first time my eyes met yours, you’ve been it. That’s all it took, just one look.”

Blonde curls fall across her face and I gently tuck them behind her ear, trailing my finger down her cheek. “Blue to blue,” she murmurs, watching me.

“Ah, so you did read the notebook.” I crack a smile at her, lowering my hand and linking our fingers together.

“I did.” She smiles back, blushing just a little.

Wrapping my other hand around the side of her head, I gently tilt it back and stare down at her mouth. Her bottom lip is swollen from her biting on it, and damn, if it doesn’t look inviting. Bending over, I gently brush my lips to hers. It’s been too long since I’ve kissed her.

“Please say you’ll stay.” I rest my mouth against the corner of hers.

“I’ll stay,” she says, with a deep sigh, the roughness of her coat brushing against me.

“Here let me help you out of that,” I say, taking a small step back, releasing the top button.

“Always trying to help me out of my clothes,” she giggles and the sound pierces my heart. God, I love that sound.

“If you only knew,” I smirk at her and she gives me the biggest smile.

Damn, she’s beautiful.

Removing the coat, I toss it onto the couch and step back into her personal space. I want to be as near to her as possible because I’m never letting her go.

Reaching up, she places her hand over my heart, and I cover it with mine.

Taking in a deep breath, my eyes travel up her arm, over her chin and lips, and find her eyes. Eyes that make me feel at home. Eyes that are shining back at me with pure love. A comfortable silence falls between us as she feels for the beating against my chest. A beating that is for her.

Soulmates are supposed to connect with ease, maybe that was our moment—that very first night, standing in the driveway, she found and connected with the beat of my heart. In return we found a comfort and a simplicity that allowed us both to reveal our true selves. She relaxed into me, and I to her, and together we found an inner calm.

I understand her, and she understands me.

My hand skims across her hip and around to her lower back. Her eyes flick up through her lashes and she licks her lips. Needing no more temptation, I take what she is freely giving, and fall into her mouth, her body, her heart, and her soul.

Love’s like that though, right? A free falling. When you know, you know, and there’s no turning back.

When I think back to the night I walked off the stage in Phoenix, I was lost. I spent years chasing a dream and trying desperately to find my way, but what I didn’t realize is I had to go through all of that to get to her, and I do believe timing is everything.

All I ever wanted was to be somebody. Somebody to someone and somebody to myself. Ten years later with the brush of her hair across my arm, and the flash of blue under the lights of the bar, I knew, just like that . . . I’d finally been found. Without her, I am nothing. With her, I am finally something. And together that makes us everything.