“Henry, please.”
He released my arm and stepped away. “No. You’re not talking me out of this. Going home and falling back into your same routine isn’t going to help anyone. Not you. Not me.” Then he pulled out the big guns. “Not Sam.” He arched a knowing eyebrow. “You’re only freaking out because shit just got real. Well, guess what? Shit got real for the rest of us when we found out why you were really going up to that bridge every night.”
I frowned, but we both knew he was right.
“Just let these people help you for thirty days. That’s all I’m asking, Levee.”
His little guilt trip didn’t still the angry butterflies in my stomach, but it did get my feet moving.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
“Shut up,” was my only response.
THREE DAYS.
Three fucking days without a single peep from Levee. I was losing my fucking mind. I wasn’t riddled with self-doubt or insecurity. Whether she knew it or not, she was mine on every possible level. I was, however, overwhelmed with worry. How was she doing? Had she made any breakthroughs? Why the fuck was she even there?
Oh yeah, I’d chickened out of that conversation big time the last night we were together. After we’d had sex in her dressing room, she’d seemed so happy. The last thing I’d wanted to do was fuck all of that up by easing my own curiosity. So, instead, I touched nearly every inch of her body. I had a feeling she’d enjoy that more than talking about her past anyway.
I’d told myself that I was going to give it a few days to let her get settled in, but after that, I was going to head up to her house in search of Henry. I was sure he wasn’t in the dark about her, even if I was.
Thankfully, that was rendered unnecessary when my phone pinged in my pocket while I was working on an old piano I was transforming into a dining room table.
Levee: I just wrestled a bear for custody of my phone.
Me: A bear?! That sounds dangerous. But it explains all the “rawr” texts I’ve gotten over the last three days. I thought you were just being kinky.
Levee: Ha! We’ve already established you aren’t kinky, but trust me, there is nothing even remotely sexy about this place.
Me: Well, obviously. I’m here.
Levee: Obviously. Anyway… Hi. How are you?
Me: My soul is trembling that I’ll forget your touch.
Levee: Hey, plagiarist! I wrote that!
Me: Yeah, I know. I binged on your music last night. It’s pretty good. I bet if you keep practicing you’ll be able to make music a full-time career one day.
Levee: Hilarious.
Me: I do what I can. How’s the vacation going?
Levee: Actually pretty good. The place is nice and I really like my doctor. My “helper” (aka: nurse) is a forty-year old man who’s covered in hair and makes Devon look like a member of the Lollipop Guild.
Me: The bear I assume?
Levee: Yep. He’s been holding my phone hostage since I got here.
Me: So does this mean you have it back for good now?
Levee: Double yep. Now, I have to go, but when I get back, I expect my phone to be filled with beer and chicken pictures. ;)
Me: Sweet! Do I get kitty-cat pics?
Levee: Be real, Sam. They don’t allow pets here.
Me: Improvise.
Levee: I miss you.
Me: I miss you too.
Levee: I’ll call you tonight.
Me: I’ll probably answer.
I smiled to myself as I lifted my shirt and flexed my abs for a quick picture. I’d barely pressed send when I noticed my mom standing in the doorway of my shop.
“Did you just text someone a crotch shot?” she asked in her best “mom” tone.
“Oh, God, Ma. No.” I walked over and pulled her into a hug. I couldn’t wipe away the grin that was threatening to split my face in half after even such a brief conversation with Levee.