by Baylin Crow
"Seems to me like you already have your answer. You're a lot of things, kid. Naïve isn't one of them. If anything, you tend to observe and make calls based on instinct. If your gut and heart both agree that whatever happened is fixable, then you take that chance."
"I love him," I admitted in a whisper.
He gave me a soft smile. "I know you do, kiddo. Does he know?"
"Not yet." I began tearing at the napkin. The idea of telling him and him not being on the same page was terrifying.
My uncle rapped his knuckles lightly on the table. "Maybe you should tell him. Might clear things up between you two."
"Maybe," I agreed, even though I wasn't sure I could follow through. Nervous energy coiled in my stomach just at the thought.
Dishes clattered as our meals were carted toward us, and suddenly, my uncle's attention shifted to the pretty blonde.
"Here we go, gentlemen." The waitress set down a loaded omelet in front of my uncle and then a plate of fluffy waffles with a small bowl of syrup in front of me. "Let me know if I can get you anything else."
After she walked off, my uncle chuckled and held a piece of folded paper between two fingers.
"What's that?" My eyebrows scrunched together.
His shoulders squared, and he ran his hand over his salt and pepper hair. "I still got it."
He flicked the paper to me, and I peered down at it. It was her phone number. He snatched it back. "Don't want to lose that." He pocketed it with a smug grin.
With everything going on, I'd failed to mention a huge development from yesterday. So I took great satisfaction in waiting until he shoveled a mouthful of eggs into his gloating mouth before filling him in.
"Did you know Courting Echoes called Phoenix yesterday? They want him to write a song for them."
Uncle Isaac choked and his eyes bulged as he struggled to swallow. Clearing his throat, he dropped his fork to his plate. "Excuse the ever-loving fucking what the hell did you just say?"
I didn’t even bother trying to understand some of the things my uncle said, but I nodded with a beaming grin. "Oh yeah, Phoenix writes songs. He never told you?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Can't say that he did. Seems a few people failed to mention it." He leaned forward, staring me down. "I love you, but you better not be jerking me around and playing with my feelings. This isn't funny. I might even cry if you're lying to me right now."
"Because I'm a known liar." I rolled my eyes and stuffed a bite of waffle in my mouth. Sugar from the homemade syrup burst on my tongue, and I decided this restaurant might even be better at perfecting waffles than the one I'd met the twins for breakfast.
Uncle Isaac sat back in the booth. "You're serious?" I nodded while chewing, and he shook his head. "How did I not know Phoenix was even involved in the industry? Courting Echoes." He continued to shake his head in awe. "I'll be damned. Your boyfriend's gonna be a hot shot songwriter."
"He’s really good…but it’s not a done deal yet." I quickly explained Dylan's part in it and the band's conversation with Phoenix.
"He talked to them himself?" My uncle stared at me like an awestruck child. "I'll be damned," he repeated and then muttered, "I think I'm in shock." I laughed and he cracked a grin. "What? I'm a huge fan."
"I got that." I snorted. "You didn't know Dylan worked on the drummer's tattoos?"
He stabbed the table with his finger. "He does not."
"Does so." I chuckled. "Ask him. How do you think he got them to look at Phoenix's work?"
"How come I've never seen him in my shop?" he challenged.
"No idea. I didn't grill him about it, but I'm taking notes on how to do it for the future." I gave him a pointed look.
A wide grin stretched his cheeks. "Smartass. I think I like this new side of you."
I grinned. "I think I do too."
As we ate, he shot out question after question, trying to pry answers from me that I didn't have. But it was funny watching my uncle fanboy like a teenager. I could only imagine what would happen if they actually contracted a song with Phoenix.
Stomachs full, we made the trip home. Once parked, my gaze once again strayed to Phoenix's house and I wondered if he was awake. I was tempted to knock just to see him.
Forcing myself to go inside, I hustled up to my room. With hours remaining before the shop opened and I had to go to work, I sat at my desk and opened my sketchbook. While my uncle had been obsessing about Courting Echoes, I'd made a decision.
I knew who won the war between the sirens and pirates. My colored pencils flew over the pages as I depicted the climax. Blood and gore spread across the sheets in a battle so gruesome it was amazing anyone came out alive. But battered and bruised, one did.
20
Phoenix
At two o'clock in the morning, I found myself reclined in the wicker chair on the back patio with my ankles crossed on top of the glass table. To settle my nerves, I lit a cigarette, inhaling and then exhaling the cloud of smoke. The moon was bright and shadows danced under the swaying trees.
I couldn't sleep, even though I didn’t have to go into work. There was too much on my mind. I was excited about the unexpected opportunity I’d been given to write for one of the biggest rock bands in the world. But I was also afraid I wouldn’t find the perfect words that would make them say yes to the song. Gage had already made clear the odds weren’t in my favor.
Sucking in another lungful of smoke, I shook my head. In my wildest dreams, even when I'd been relentlessly pursuing them, I'd never dared to hope for something so unobtainable. I couldn't believe this massive break fell into my lap. Things like that just didn't happen in the music world.
Archer made it happen, or at least he'd been a pivotal part of the chance of a lifetime. My lips tilted to one side when I remembered Gage Flex refer to Archer as my manager. The smile slipped away as my gaze turned to the empty second story balcony next door.
My love for Archer was endless and consuming. He surprised me constantly, and I found myself leaning on him, even in his absence, for inspiration in the lyrics. He was more than my muse though. He was everything. It had only been a short time without him, but I felt as if a piece of my soul had wandered astray, and I wasn't sure it would find its way back to me.
It was tearing me apart, and that feeling flooded all over the page I was scribbling on. Desperate desire and longing dripped from the pencil tip that formed the words meant for another man to share with the world. But so many people would relate to the song in a world full of bruised hearts.
A melody that fit with Courting Echoes' brand clicked, and I let it guide me through the chorus.
To the one I love most, you've become a ghost.
Haunting me with memories—
Steps approaching from the side of the house ripped me away from the song. My head jerked toward the shadow approaching, and then Archer appeared. His pale skin glowed beneath the moonlight, and his unruly locks tangled in the breeze.
I hurriedly crushed my cigarette in the ashtray and tossed the notepad and pencil on the table. Pushing out of the chair, I climbed to my feet. Eyes glued to my own ghost, I watched his every step as he neared. He stopped several feet away, and a shy smile curled his lips. Not shy, I realized when I noticed the slight tremble of his lips.
Archer was nervous, and several scenarios flashed through my thoughts. Had he come to officially break things off, or mend, the fragile crack between us? Maybe he was still undecided, but still, hope swelled in my chest.
"I finished my book," he said and stepped closer, holding it out with an unsteady hand. "I didn't know if you wanted to see it."
Staring into his deep brown eyes, I accepted it, curling my fingers around the spine.
"You know I do." I eased back into my chair that creaked beneath my weight and gestured to the one next to me. "Sit with me?"
Archer blew out a deep breath, and his shoulders, which I hadn't noticed were tense, relaxed as he sat. I inhaled the scent of fresh linen that clung to
him, itching to bury my nose in the crook of his neck.
His intense gaze, one I recognized as my own, held want and need. My heart thumped wildly in my chest at the implication, but I was afraid to jump to conclusions. "Arch—"
"Can you read it before we talk?" His eyes lowered as he looked at the concrete between our feet. "Please."
Confused, I still nodded though he couldn't see it. His reason didn't matter. I'd do anything he asked, even if he asked me to walk away. It would shatter me, but I'd do it if it meant he would be happy.
Settling back, I cracked open the book and flipped through the pages until I found the last one I'd read.
The pictures were darker with the lack of lighting, but the images were so realistic it was easy to tell what was going on. And the words were filled in to guide me through the story.
Giant rolling waves slammed into the sides of the splintering ship, causing it to rock violently in the churning storm. The sirens used the massive swells to scale the gouged wood. Bow to stern, they crept up toward the waiting crew.
Their claws ripped chunks of the thick, crumbling wood away as the sea tried to suck them back into its depths each time the waves receded. But that wasn't the purpose of their destruction. They were sinking the ship. How else would they release their kin? Clever, Arch.
The pirates swung long swords, warding them off and killing most who managed to reach the top. But the crew was well outnumbered. Scaled arms latched onto a wrist, jerking a man overboard. The sirens watched the fall with pure loathing as he tumbled into the waiting army bobbing in the choppy waters. Another was grabbed by the hilt of his sword as he met the same fate. The sirens sang, and others willingly jumped over the sides to be with them.
As I turned the pages, the scenes became more gruesome until one man stood alone on the deck. Countless lives had been lost on both sides.
Then the queen and pirate who'd lost his brother faced off in the final battle. His sword was raised, and her claws were sunk deep into his calf through bloody breeches. They moved at once, each going for the kill. The queen's eyes widened, and then she was falling back into the sea, swallowed by the waves. Cries echoed into the night as her army disappeared, following their queen into the watery graveyard.
My gaze ripped from the page toward Archer. "I thought you said the sirens would win because they were only following their nature. The lesser of the evils."
He cleared his throat and met my eyes. "I realized something yesterday when I was talking to my uncle. I don't write fairy tales—well, not this one. Just because one was possibly less evil, depending on your point of view, doesn't mean they should win."
"No?" My brow raised in surprise at the twist he'd thrown me.
He shook his head. "You were right. The pirate was driven by revenge and was willing to die to avenge his brother. When you want something bad enough, you do whatever it takes. You don't hesitate to run head on into an army of ruthless creatures. You're driven by your own primal urges and don't think twice about the obstacles that lay ahead of you."
I considered him as he bit his lip, head tilted as he offered the explanation. I agreed with a nod. "Some things are worth the fight. Even if you’re scared you might lose."
"Exactly.” He nodded. “Right or wrong, morals don't factor in. The win comes from determination, whichever side wants it most."
I grinned. When Archer talked about his book, his heart spoke, and I found it fascinating to get a front row seat to the way his brain worked.
"Arch, this is amazing. Is there a big market for this kind of book?" I wondered aloud.
He shrugged. "Well, I'm never going to be filthy rich, because it doesn't speak to a large audience like your words do. But it's a niche some will seek out. And it's not the only type of book I plan to write."
"No?" I still had so much to learn about Archer and could only hope he'd let me.
His lips twitched. "I'm not all darkness and gore. Now that this one's finished, I think I'll start a high fantasy I've been wanting to write. There will be battles, but in the end, love wins. I'm not willing to budge on that."
I chuckled as I watched him. "You amaze me."
The thought escaped my mouth before I'd given it permission to, but I didn't regret it when his eyes lit up.
"Stop distracting me," he scolded and frowned. "I already went off topic."
I couldn't really take his admonishing seriously when a grin battled to be set free on his face.
"My bad. Please continue." I waved him on.
He snorted but then scowled at me. "I practiced this speech for hours and you've ruined it. It doesn't even make sense anymore."
I stifled the laugh bubbling up my throat. His sudden shift in demeanor demanded my attention.
He was quiet but then sighed. "What I was attempting to say was I want to win. Even if it means blindly trusting you. Because I do. I thought I was being naïve, but it turned out I was really just scared I'd get hurt. My uncle helped me realize that wasn't a way to live and asked if I could imagine walking away. I can't, and if you still want me—"
"I do," I interrupted on a rush of breath, and a slow smile teased his lips.
"You really are determined to screw up my well-prepared script."
I leaned toward him. "I don't want practiced words, Arch. I want your heart. You have mine already. I've wanted to tell you so bad." Swallowing hard, I reached forward and palmed his cheek, stroking my thumb over his skin when he leaned into the touch. "Archer West, I'm completely, irrevocably in love with you."
His eyes widened. "You are?"
I chuckled. "Don't look so surprised. You've been my muse, the heartbeat that thumps in time with mine, and become the one thing in this world that I can't imagine a life without. I love you with my heart. I love you with my soul. I didn't know I was missing anything until you made me whole."
He sniffed and tears filled his eyes. "You can't even tell a guy you love him without turning it into poetry."
"Not a guy. I've never said it to anyone else." I stared at him intently. "When the man I love is the one person capable of giving me back my music, I can't imagine doing it any other way."
He blinked rapidly and swiped at the lone tear that dripped from his eyelash. "Well, now I feel like I should have written you a book or something. Without you, I'm not sure I'd ever found a way to the ending. So, this will have to do." He sucked in a shuddering breath. "Phoenix Ryan, I love you back. More than you could ever know."
My lips slanted into a crooked smile. "I think I might have an idea."
We shared a grin, and then I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to feel him. All of him.
I stood and held out my hand that he took without hesitation and let me pull him to his feet. Drawing him close, I reveled in the warmth of his body pressed against mine. His gaze locked on mine as I lowered my head, bringing my lips down on his.
He parted his lips, and I greedily accepted the invitation, fitting my mouth over his. Dipping inside, I tangled my tongue with his, tasting the moan that sent fire racing through my veins. I lost myself into the drugging kiss until my lungs burned for oxygen, and we broke apart on a gasp.
"Bed. Now," I panted as I released him. "I need to bury myself deep inside you."
"Yes, please." He grinned and I swatted his ass before crowding his back.
Sliding the door open, I walked him inside and closed it behind us. With my chest to his back, my hard cock rubbed against his ass with each slow step toward my bedroom. My fingers dug into his hips when he began to purposely press back. Pure. Perfect. Torture.
"That little ass of yours is driving me crazy."
"Good." He chuckled, and I huffed a laugh that was part groan as I grinded myself against him.
Fuck, I needed him so bad. The last few days had been an emotional rollercoaster, and with him in my arms again, I only wanted to get closer.
As we made our way down the hall, I buried my nose in the crook of his neck, finally, and nipped at the sens
itive skin.
"Phoenix," he whispered, impatience lacing his tone.
"What do you want, Arch." Without waiting for an answer, I lifted his shirt and reached around to unbutton his shorts. He moaned as I dipped my hand inside his boxer briefs and wrapped my fingers around his cock. "This? You wanted me to touch you?"
"Yes," he hissed.
Once we reached the bed, I released his cock and pushed the comforter aside. Turning him around to face me, I whispered, "Slow. I want to take my time with you."
He nodded and I took his mouth again, slowly massaging his tongue with mine, only separating to remove our clothes.
When I had him naked in the middle of my bed, I stared down at him, my gaze raking over every inch of his body. His messy auburn hair down to his bare feet. "You're…" I shook my head. I couldn't believe he was mine and he loved me. "You're perfect, Arch."
His eyes filled with heat, softened. "I feel the same way."
Wanting inside him more than I wanted my next breath, I grabbed the lube before settling between his bent legs. Taking in each whimper and moan, I slowly stretched him and stroked his cock. Come leaked from his tip and I swiped it with my thumb before sticking it in my mouth. Eyes closed, I savored his taste.
"I'm ready," he whimpered as he rolled his hips, fucking himself on my fingers.
"Ready for what, babe?" I cocked a brow and he scowled.
Chuckling, I sat back and slicked my cock with the lube. Tossing the bottle aside, I came down on top of him with my tip pressing against his hole.
"I love you, Arch. I'm not even sure when it happened, but you're it for me." I pushed forward, sliding into him bare, inch by slow inch. My eyes rolled back, and my jaw clenched as pleasure so pure it was almost excruciating raced through my veins.
When I was fully seated, I held still as he adjusted to my size.
Archer's hands wrapped behind my neck, and he tugged me down. "I love you too. Now kiss me and make me feel good."
"Yes, sir," I growled as I set a lazy pace and ate his moans and desperate whimpers. Fuck, he felt indescribable with the final emotional barrier removed between us.