by Mia Josephs
He plucked her guitar off its rack on the wall and sat back down. “Does it have words?” he asked.
And she began to sing—her voice higher and smoother than he’d ever heard it. He missed the first few words because he was so absorbed in her tone.
“…sat by the river…looked out at the water…the roar makes me small…” Her guitar got louder, and he found the plucking rhythm to support the smooth chords and let his fingers follow her pattern. “…I don’t matter…no, not at all…to the river…to the water…”
There was something pure about the moment she painted with her words, and he felt a million afternoons near the rivers that wound through Oregon. The roaring sound. The peace. The smoothness. The harshness. Just like her, so many opposites.
He watched her—the way her soft lips moved, the way her lids fluttered. But the song and the way he felt himself leaning toward her had to do with so much more than how she looked. It had to do with how he felt around her. Her strength. The life she’d built for herself and her son in this miniature town outside of Seattle.
Her song continued, and he continued playing. And she finally looked up at him with a smile. He’d helped her with one of her songs—it was a flip, and one he was grateful for.
This was definitely something he could get used to.
NINE
Corinne leaned against the mirrored wall of the yoga studio, finally finished with her day. The smell of sweat and her boss’ beloved peppermint oil filled the air—everyone’s reflections walking on one side of her while the real people walked on the other. She waved at the regulars and made small talk about their kids and Jonah, but even as she talked, she began to realize that she kept them at a distance, too. There was no way to cover up the deaths of her sister, her brother in law and her fiancé, but no one had known Jonah belonged to Corinne. Why hadn’t she fully claimed him from the beginning? She knew, even though she didn’t even like admitting it to herself. It was embarrassment. She didn’t feel capable of taking care of him, hadn’t wanted her life to change in that way, and didn’t want people to see that side of her. Another thing to press guilt into her chest.
And last night… Just the small admissions felt like a headfirst dive into a pool when she didn’t know how to swim. But she’d given Chris a piece of her past. And it had felt… It felt like she was finally just being around Chris instead of walling herself off so drastically. And the music… He knew. His instincts were so spot on with hers that when he played, she felt like it was something she would have come up with on her own, only she hadn’t come up with it, so his music all felt new but also natural. Kind of an amazing feat.
When the class had dispersed, she moved for the front desk in the foyer just in time to see Heather push through the door. Red eyes. Tears streaming down her face.
Oh, no.
Corinne was to her in a second and threw her arms around her friend—already quivering at what the news might be.
Heather’s body shook in a few sobs. “He’s okay. He’s okay. He’s okay…” Her words came out in a high-pitched terrified rush.
“Shhh.” Corinne held her friend tighter not knowing what else to do.
“Dan… He was hit. He’s in a hospital in Germany until they can get him stable enough to fly home. I just… The whole truck was blown to bits, Corinne…”
Corinne blinked back tears. Remembered the police officers at her door. Telling her about John. Both crying. They’d been friends. Her stomach twisting until she could no longer stand. “I’m so sorry. But he’s alive, right? It’ll be okay.”
Heather pulled in a long breath and released her hold. “I’m leaving. Now. The kids are going to stay with my mom, and I’m flying over. I can’t stand it.”
“Good.” Corinne couldn’t slow her heart. She was so thankful that Jonah was having a sleepover at his grandparents. She couldn’t imagine trying to put on a happy face for him.
“I’ll keep in touch. I just…” Heather wiped more tears as she sucked in odd breaths. “I have to go.”
Corinne wrapped Heather in another hug. “Love you, friend. Call whenever.”
Heather released her and ran back out the door, still wiping tears.
Guilt wracked Corinne’s body as jealousy took over. They’d been on a short flight in her father’s plane. All three were killed. Her fiancé. Her sister. Her brother-in-law. They were right here at home. Doing something they’d done a million times before. Heather’s husband was in Afghanistan. In a place they knew was dangerous, and he was paid for it, and Heather always expected the worst when she didn’t hear from him for a day or two. Corinne’s family had died. Dan was blown up in a war-zone and survived. She was relieved for Heather, of course, and felt horrible even having the thoughts she was, but they were still there. Still real.
She had to find something to numb her aching chest—just for a while.
The guys at the studio gave Chris high-fives as he left, and as petty as he knew it was, he missed the attention. He once again signed everything in sight for them and they’d sent the requested digital files to Max and Don. Max had come clean to the label about how far along they were, and now it was Carl who was pushing, saying the tour would be bigger than ever with people dying to hear the new album. Hopefully he was right.
The trees towered above him as he headed through Snoqualmie pass and he started to understand why Corinne loved it there so much. There was something incredibly beautiful about the mountain pass and the wildness so close to busy Seattle. He took an easy breath in as he rolled down the window, letting the scent of pine take over.
He hit the gas as the small car found the first hill. He wanted to be back at her house, next to the fire, telling her about the recording and how well it was going, and then they’d talk about something Corinne might have overheard at work… Maybe he’d read with Jonah again. The kid’s reading got better every day.
Chris hit the gas again as the small car bounced up her driveway and he had the thought that maybe he should trade in this rental car for something with a little more substance.
When he finally stopped at the top of the drive, the house was dark. Not a little dark, but dark like no one was home. Only Corinne’s truck sat in the driveway.
It wasn’t even past Jonah’s bedtime. The darkness and quietness around the house felt...off. He squinted through the trees and could just make out the outline of Heather’s house, but no lights were on there either.
A part of him wanted to think they were all out having fun together, but Corinne probably would have sent him a text or something to say he’d be alone when he got back. His pulse kicked up.
He ran across the driveway and pushed open the unlocked door into darkness.
“Corinne?” he called quietly.
“Hmm…?” Her voice was soft and coming from...the couch?
When he peered over the back of the couch, he saw Corinne, curled in a small ball, clutching one of her pillows.
The final embers from the fireplace cast a faint, flickering light across her skin. She breathed in. Breathed out. He watched. His heart thumped in another reminder that he was feeling too much to be the guy she was just putting up with. She was beautiful. Incredible. Smart. More broken than she’d ever admit.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
“I don ushually drink…” Her words slurred to the point that he had to smile. Smiling was better than breathing in the smell of alcohol and killing a little of himself in pursuit of it.
He’d never seen her anything but carefully put together, and he maybe shouldn’t enjoy her sloppy-drunk, but the thought of her being a bit less than perfect was exciting, even though a part of him screamed for the same release. It always would, he guessed.
“I see,” Chris said as he stepped around the couch to put more logs on the fire. The rain began to hit the metal roof and echoed loudly in the small space. He’d made it back just before the deluge.
“It’s…” She sat up slowly, knocking over an empt
y wine bottle on the coffee table. “I don drink, Christian Meyer…”
He shut the door of the small stove. “You also said you don’t do one nights.” It’s something he never would have said if she’d been sober, but now…
She snorted and wrinkled up her nose. She was really trashed. “You’re so smart. And funny.”
“I’m fairly exceptional,” he teased. He stood and checked his phone. “It’s a little early, but maybe we should get you to bed?”
She tried a seductive smile—her smile sort of crooked and her eyes half open, but she was too wobbly for him to take her seriously. “Yes. Jonah’s sleeping. At grandparents...”
He reached for Corinne twice unsure of where he should be touching her, and finally sat next to her and slid his arm around her waist, hauling her to standing.
Her body nestled perfectly under his arm and Chris breathed in the smell of her shampoo mixed with cheap red wine. Even the smell of the crap alcohol put the familiar tremble in his fingers, but he could handle it. He had to. Someone needed him, and she was someone he desperately wanted to help.
They shuffled across the living room together, her fingers pinching the fabric of his t-shirt.
Her body rested against him even harder when they hit the stairs, and Chris’ heart beat harder as he used both arms to hold her to him. The heat and the firm curves of her body mixed with her soft skin, and it all felt so real and honest and nothing like standing next to a woman while high. Not even in the same world, and he craved it. Her.
“I...sorry…”
“Don’t be sorry,” he whispered.
“Heather’s husband… His car was blown up...an’ he’s okay. Blown up. He’s okay. John went for a short flight with my sister, and…”
Chris’ gut sank. He was enjoying her body next to his, and she was mourning the loss of her fiancé.
“...an I’m falling for you, an I shouldn’d be.”
Chris stopped halfway up the stairs, Corinne pressed into his side for support.
She was falling for him.
He wasn’t alone.
She grasped his shoulders and took a step on her own, one up from him, making their faces level. Her eyes swam but she grasped his neck in her small hands. He put his hands on her waist, knowing he should walk away, but unable to move. His heart beat so loud he couldn’t hear his breathing.
Her thumbs traced his cheeks for a moment. “I’m not supposed to feel this for you.”
He started to speak but coughed instead. “Like what? Exactly?”
“Like you’re way more of everything than I wanted anyone to be.” She leaned in closer. “Especially someone like you.”
Chris squeezed her waist wishing beyond anything that she hadn’t been drinking—not just because the smell was giving him the shakes but because he wanted to kiss her, to strip her down and kiss every inch of her. “I know that feeling.”
She leaned closer, her eyes cast down, until their noses touched. And then her small nose slid against his cheek, their lips nearly touching.
Even though he hadn’t found the strength to walk away, he also wasn’t going to make the first move. He knew he was already taking advantage of the situation by not immediately stepping away.
Her lips touched his, a faint trace of wine still lingering. She parted her lips and kissed him again, reaching her arms around his neck, bringing them together.
One kiss. One kiss, he told himself. But it was already too late because the next kiss began before the last one ended, or maybe since he hadn’t moved away it was all one kiss. She was perfect. Felt perfect. Tasted perfect.
Corinne tightened her arms, and Chris pulled her closer until their bodies pressed together so he could feel the softness of her breasts and the flatness of her stomach and her hips against his hips. Shared warmth. Everything about the way she felt in his arms was exactly how he imagined it would be when he fell in love.
He should not be doing this.
Chris pulled away and quickly scooped her up in his arms. He had to turn off the side of him that wanted her body wound around him. He needed to be the nice guy. The guy who liked taking care of her and liked her routine. Liked doing small things for her. Getting tea for her. Helping with dishes...
“Whoa…” She breathed into his neck.
Chris moved quickly up the stairs and sat Corinne on her bed, trying to slide her over so she could get comfortable. Her lips found his jaw and her arms hadn’t relinquished their hold on his neck. He had to step away before he gave in. “Corinne…” He removed her arms.
She clutched his shirt and looked up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. “Chris.”
“What?”
She blinked showing more fear each time her eyes opened. “Please stay.”
He rested his hands over hers, having no idea if she’d still want that after waking up next to him in the morning. “I’ve been staying with you.”
“Jus’ slide in tonight. With me. Please?”
He wasn’t going to tell her no, even if she was weird about it the next day. “Lie down, close your eyes, and get some sleep.”
She moved slightly away, not relinquishing her hold on his shirt. Chris followed until they were both on her small bed, facing each other. Her fingers loosened, and her eyes started to droop again.
“I wonder if you’ll remember any of this tomorrow.”
She burrowed her face into his chest, and he rested his arm around her. Corinne fit perfectly. Not just physically perfectly, but there was something stable about her that he craved. That made staying sober feel possible even when tasting the wine in her mouth. That made writing easy. That made life feel easy.
Yes. This is exactly what he thought his forever would feel like.
Corinne blinked eyelids that felt as if they were made of sandpaper. How had that happened? She tried to remember the previous night, but her memories felt blurry as she blinked again and again and slowly sat up. Her stomach rolled over and she sprinted for the bathroom, sliding on her knees on the floor, and barely making it to the toilet before emptying the contents of her stomach.
She grasped her head with both hands as her body quivered in the kind of exhaustion that only hit her when she was hung over. Corinne sat confused for a moment until the previous day came back in a rush.
Heather.
Her husband.
The accident.
Dropping Jonah off with her parents.
Driving home.
Digging in the pantry for the ages old cheap bottle of wine…
And that brought her to the current moment.
When her feet started to tingle from being sat on for too long, she finally stood up and stumbled into the shower. Wait. Chris. Where was Chris? Snapshots of his smile and him half carrying her up the stairs hit when she blinked, but her head ached so she concentrated instead on the warm water pouring over her body.
She wrapped a towel under her arms when she finished and stepped into her loft room and stopped. Chris left her a note on her nightstand.
Went in to record today. I called your work and said you were sick. If last night is any indication of how you’ll feel in the morning, I can easily say I didn’t lie. Would love to see you. I might not be back until late.
Chris
There were three Advil and a few saltines, which she nibbled on as she sat down. She touched her sheets and another flash of the previous night hit her. Chris. In her bed. Cradled in his arms. The feeling of complete and total bliss as she fell asleep next to him.
Oh, no. She was in big trouble.
TEN
Chris had never loved it when girls showed up while he was recording, but Corinne’s wild, curly hair and shy smile were the perfect antidote to his frustrating afternoon. Trapped in the black box of a room with a microphone and his music wasn’t usually quite this torturous. Maybe it had more to do with the woman he left behind in bed—the one it killed him to get out of.
“Hey.” He smiled wide as she stepped into the bo
oth. “How’d you make it past Bert and Ernie out there?” he teased.
Her lips pressed together. “They really like you. You should be flattered.”
“I am,” he answered, already grateful he’d asked for privacy the moment he was told he had a guest. Listening in was sort of a recording studio specialty.
“So…” she started as she glanced around the plain room.
“So…” he answered, wishing she’d step into the room. Get closer. “Come closer so we can talk?”
It took her a half moment before she walked toward him, stopping so close they were almost touching. Maybe last night she meant what she said. Maybe he would have a chance to move forward with her. His fingers twitched at wanting to tug on her belt loops and pull her to his lap, smooth his calluses over her soft skin.
“I’m pretty sure…” —she squinted— “I kissed you?”
He nodded, enjoying Corinne feeling a little lost in this moment. She always seemed so perfectly in control. “It was very nice.”
“We were supposed to work together to write, that’s all.” Her voice came out so soft and bewildered sounding. “And then we started to be friends and then those lines got all blurry.”
Chris gently pushed her curls off her face as she stepped forward until her leg rested against his.
She stared at the floor between them. “And now the friendship lines are getting blurry.”
“I like our blurry lines.” Chris rested a hand on her hip.
Corinne sighed. “I’m not ready for them to be blurry.”
“You’re leaning on me,” he whispered, trying to tease.
“I…” But instead of moving away like he expected, she put her hands on his shoulders, finally looking him in the eye.
“I like our blurry lines, Corinne. Hell. They’re not blurry to me.” His mouth dried out but he’d done a lot of hard things in his life, and he wasn’t going to let her go because he couldn’t say what he needed to. “I know how I feel right now.”