“I’m serious,” she insisted. “Before all of that ink, he was a dork. He sure grew up well though.” She waggled her eyebrows.
I laughed again, and my cheeks blushed. “Yeah, he definitely did.”
“He’s always been a good guy though.”
He really is.
I swallowed hard and glanced down at my heels.
“Small world. You’ll have to tell him I said hi.”
And that I miss him.
And want to see him.
And hold him.
And be with him.
“Sure,” she drawled suspiciously.
I had to stop obsessing about him. Time to move on.
Squaring my shoulders, I walked back over and sat in the chair next to the bed. “So, Morgan, show me this card for Henry.”
For twenty minutes, Morgan talked my ear off. She definitely wasn’t shy anymore. I wasn’t even sure she took a breath. I only had an hour before Devon was going to drag me out of there—doctor’s orders. I kept waiting for Meg to chime in and give me an opportunity to move on to some of the other patients, but she just smiled and snapped pictures.
“Maybe, when my hair grows back, it will be curly and we can be like twins!”
“Maybe it will. But straight hair is pretty too. How about this? Send me a picture whenever it grows back, and I’ll send you a curling iron if need be. We can still be twins.”
“Okay!” Morgan excitedly agreed as someone knocked on the door.
“Come in!” Meg shouted.
“Well, I better get going. That’s probably the nurse here to kick me out.” I leaned down to hug Morgan when a deep, panty-drenching voice filled the air.
“Who’s stalking who now, Designer Shoes?”
I closed my eyes, praying that he wasn’t there and equally hoping that my ears weren’t deceiving me. When I spun to the door, my chest seized as I found Sam standing with his hands in his pockets and a one-sided grin pulling at his sexy lips.
I couldn’t help myself. The moment a text from Meg popped up on my phone with a picture of Levee and Morgan, my feet rushed from my house before my mind even had a chance to catch up. Her message scrolled through my head during my entire drive to the hospital.
Meg: Dumbass, I’m not sure how you know Levee Williams, but get your ass up here. She almost burst into tears when she saw the guitar.
By the time I came to my senses, remembering why I had stayed away in the first place, I was staring into her devastating, brown eyes from across the hospital room.
Fuck my senses.
Going to her was the right move—a fact I knew so deeply that I couldn’t believe I’d managed to stay away as long as I had. The hospital was neutral territory. It didn’t feel like I was forcing myself on her by showing up at her security gate, pleading for a piece of the celebrity. I just needed to apologize and see how she was doing. I’d be okay if nothing ever happened between us again, but I’d regret it if I never got a chance to apologize.
Then I’ll let her go.
I had to. Self-preservation was a real bitch like that.
Our gazes locked as we both silently apologized. Words weren’t even necessary. I could see it in her eyes, and I prayed that she could see it in mine.
I tried to remind myself that I was only torturing myself, that I’d never be able to fully relax with a woman like her. And, God, did I need a chance to relax after the last few years.
But, then again, she wasn’t Anne.
She was Levee.
More than that, I wanted her to be mine.
As if she could read my thoughts, her chin quivered and tears sprang to her eyes. I tossed her a tight grin that said nothing but somehow also said it all.
Her red lips split in a breathtaking smile that instantly quelled the anxiety I’d been living with for the last week.
Jesus Christ. What is wrong with me?
She was standing right in front of me, and my body ached to hold her.
To feel her.
To help her.
To allow her to heal…me.