by Mandi Beck
“You miss me, Birdie?” he teases in that barely there drawl I love so much. Removing the lolli from his mouth just in time for me to shut him up with my lips over his. Stone groans into my mouth, his fingers coasting over my back to tangle in my hair. He spins so that I’m up against the truck. I tilt my head and open wider, take him deeper, allowing his tongue to glide over mine. I missed him so much. The taste of him, the feel of him. It’s all too much and not enough.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, not giving him a chance to answer before my lips are back on his, my teeth nipping at his plump bottom lip. “You’re not supposed to be back until tomorrow, I thought.” Hands cradling my head now, he tugs my hair gently to reveal my throat and scrapes his teeth down the exposed skin before pulling back to answer.
“Couldn’t wait another day to get my hands all over you, Wills. I hate being away from you like this,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to mine. I nod in agreement.
“I hate it too. One more semester though and I’ll be finished with school. Then maybe I can go on tour with you guys, at least in the summer, if I’m able to get a teaching job,” I appease. It would be so easy for me to just drop my classes and follow him, but I can’t do that. I promised my aunt before she died that I would finish my degree and not give up on my dream to teach music in order to support Stone in his. She loved Stone like a son, but she saw him for what he was—a moody, broody, rock star destined for greatness—and while she couldn’t be any more proud of him, she also didn’t want me to lose myself in Stone’s shadow.
“It’s not enough. I need you with me all the time, Birdie. You’re my music.”
“I know, Stone. But I have to finish. For auntie. For me.” He brushes his nose against mine and looks at me with those gray eyes I love so much. They’re like a storm. Always brewing, constantly on the brink of rain. Not just gray but blue and slate and beautiful.
With his lips pressed to mine he sighs into my mouth, “You’re right. I would never ask you to quit, but any time you want to, you can. Shit, Birdie, with what we’re making, you’ll never have to work again,” he says excitedly. I can’t help but smile at how happy that makes him. He was an orphan who never had anything. Stone wants to be able to provide for me, for us, for a family and not have me kill myself working if I don’t want to. Stone gets the innate need to support me because he came from nothing. It’s an admirable trait, but I want to be able to support myself doing something that I love as well.
“That’s your money, Stone. And I want to do this. It’ll be good practice for me for when we have kids,” I tell him, smiling.
There’s no doubt that he’s my guy. Stone has been my only everything, and he always will be. He’s my heart’s song. The day I met him I knew there was no turning back. It took him a little longer to figure it out, and I watched him go through girls left and right and tried not to let it kill me. I survived, reminding myself boys are slower than we are. Then one day it’s like a switch flipped, he looked at me in a new light a little confused. He asks me now what he asked me then, what he asks me every time we’re apart, whether it’s for an hour, a day, a month.
“Where the hell you been, Birdie? My heart doesn’t beat in rhythm when you’re not around. You gotta know I need you, to be me.”
“Right here, Stone. I’ve been right here waiting for you.”
“Damn right you have.”
With one final deep breath, I swipe the tears from my face, pushing the memory aside. I’ve cried too many tears over Stone Lockhart. I won’t allow him to do any more damage than I already have. It’s not just me I have to protect now. Stone may have been the greatest love of my life, but he wouldn’t be the last. Resolve firmly in place, I throw the Jeep into drive and turn the radio up, drowning out my thoughts with some Sia, because when it comes to Stone there’s no telling what my heart will talk my mind into.
I tried calling Perry on my way over but she never picked up, so I left her a voice mail with the Cliff notes version of what went on. She must’ve just heard it because she’s sending text after text demanding the details. Shaking my head, I shoot off a quick message,
Me: You should’ve picked up. I’m freaking out, Per!
Perry: Had I not been fluffing for some lame ass rock star with a tiny dick I would have.
Me: You were the fluffer?
Leave it to Perry to be able to put a smile on my face when my whole world was being kicked right off its axis.
Perry: No. Not really. It’s a long story but I’m gonna need yours first.
Perry: You OK?
Perry: Of course you’re not. I’ll be waiting at your place. I love you!!!!!!
Me: Thanks. Love you too.
I’m glad she didn’t give me a chance to respond to her questions.
“Hey, baby girl. What’re you doing hiding in the corner here? I almost missed ya!”
I glance up just as Cora makes it to my table. “Nothing, just thinking about how depressed I’m about to make everyone tonight.” I smile, even if it does hold some sadness.
“Bear told me he showed up in town. You okay?” Wise eyes stare back at me. There is no use lying to her—she’d see right through me. So I don’t.
“Not even close to okay.”
She tilts her head at me, her glossy platinum hair following the movement. Cora nods. “I’m glad you didn’t try to bullshit me. Woulda seen it coming from a mile away, baby girl.” She covers my hand with hers, stilling my nervous tapping. “Tomorrow, coffee and a chat when I don’t have to scream to be heard, eh? I’m on my way home now to take Lyric to see mama. Tomorrow,” she repeats.
“I’ll bring the donuts,” I answer, glad for the little break that I will get tonight. It’s all too fresh to talk about right now and I for sure don’t want to do it here.
“Good. You want your hot tea now or do you want to wait for Bear?” she asks, standing beside my chair.
“With a little honey in it?” I implore, sweetly.
“Because you’ve had a miserable damn day, I will. But don’t get used to it.” Her fake glare would be more menacing if she could keep the twinkle out of her bright blue eyes.
I raise my hand to vow I won’t and she harrumphs and goes off to make my drink. It’s a little ritual of mine that she picked up on right away. It’s things like that that make her so damn special.
Stone
“YOU SURE ABOUT THIS, STONE?” Judge asks, his hand on the door of a little bar called The Dirty Bird. Fitting for my Birdie. It took Judge and Law a couple days to find out where she’s been playing, but the minute they did and confirmed her schedule, I started making plans for us to come see her. Taking one last drag of my cigarette, I drop it in the ashtray at the entrance right next to the big God damn sign that says “NO SMOKING EVEN IF IT IS A FUCKING BAR.” They clearly think it’s bullshit too.
“I’m fine. It’ll be okay.” He’s worried about the fact that it’s a bar and as part of my rehab, I’ve also given up drinking. This will be the first time I’ve stepped foot into a bar or been around alcohol really. The guys support me by not drinking. I pat my pocket and pull out a sucker, popping it in my mouth, smiling around the stick. “Promise if shit gets bad we’re outta here. I just want to see her. It’s been so long since I’ve heard her sing, seen her play like this.” Pulling the sucker out of my mouth I reassure them all one more time, “Not gonna fuck this up. Can’t. Not if I have any chance in hell of ever getting her back.”
Arrow, who arrived a couple hours ago, brushes Judge out of the way, “Let’s go. He’ll be fine. He’s gotta learn to survive this shit sometime; he’s got a great motivator in there. And I’ll personally whoop his ass if he even looks like he wants to get stupid.”
“In your fucking dreams, Ro,” I laugh, glad for the tension breaker. He opens the door, bowing deeply, the sounds of an acoustic guitar floating out at us along with the mingled scents of alcohol, sawdust, and a touch of sweat. I suck in a deep breath but it’s not the smells that su
cker punch me, it’s the music. Seems like a lifetime since I’ve heard her play. It’s a little overwhelming. As stupid as that fucking seems. A hand on my shoulder pushes me forward.
“God, that voice. Let’s go see our girl do the damn thing,” Law says eagerly.
They’ve missed her too. I know they have, but they knew Willow being gone was best for her. So they let her stay that way until I got my shit together. Tugging the ball cap I’m wearing down lower over my eyes, I enter the dark bar. Lollipop firmly in place as I concentrate on not concentrating on the people all around me drinking. Arrow taps my arm and points to an empty table away from the lights of the small stage. A place where we could remain unseen from the room and hopefully not draw a ton of attention. It’s not often that we go out in public together, especially without some kind of security like this, because we’re bound to be recognized, but we do our best to blend. It’s a chance I’m willing to take tonight.
We take our seats quietly as Wills is setting up for another song. The moment we sit, a waitress appears at Judge’s side. He gives her an order I can’t hear, nor do I care, my gaze transfixed to the stage. Willow sits on a stool, feet propped on the bottom rung, her Martin sitting in her lap as she talks to someone at a table right up front. My leg is bouncing out a beat as I watch her fingers start strumming, thoughtfully, like she’s debating on what she’ll play next. I see it as soon as she makes up her mind. Her fingers move with purpose, sure of the song now.
Willow isn't a performer. She’s too honest and pure for that. She plays and sings with her heart. If she’s mad, she sings angry shit. Happy, she smiles throughout the whole damn song making you smile too. But I know the moment I hear the chords of “Over,” this set she’s working on is all me. She can’t see me in the corner here, but she sings for me nonetheless, and I feel every fucking word. Every last note as she pours her heart out. This is a Willow that was always reserved for me. She never wanted to be in the spotlight. We begged her to be in the band and not just help write the music, but she said no, over and over. But when it was just her and I, this was the Birdie I got. We would play for each other for hours, late into the night, sometimes it would lead to us fucking, and other times it was because we had just finished, our bodies sated, but our souls still full of passion and adrenaline. A naked Wills wearing nothing but a guitar is the most beautiful fucking sight in the world and just thinking about it now makes me hard.
“Stone? Babe? Wake up, I can’t sleep.” I can hear her but can’t make my eyes open to see her. The bed shifts and then dips. Willow straddling my lap has my eyes opening slowly, blinking the sleep away. I suck in a breath when I can finally focus. My beautiful Birdie is sitting astride me, completely naked except for her brand new custom Martin. Her fingers lovingly stroking over the fret board. “I wrote you a new song,” she whispers excitedly. Peering up at her, I can see the excitement on her face, the love in her whiskey-colored eyes. As she starts playing I shift. My bottom lip clamped between my teeth I gently tug the sheet lower down my legs inconspicuously. She begins singing and I feel a lightness wash over me. Her words like a balm on my now overly heated skin. Every time she opens her mouth, beauty pours from it, and I have the urge to fill her. Fill her any way that I can so that I can touch that music. Be her music the way she’s mine. Entranced, I watch as Willow falls into her zone, eyes closed, face intense in its peacefulness. As she hits the bridge, her voice raising an octave, I slip inside her. Pussy wet, always so wet when she gets like this, I thrust. Her eyes don’t open, but she softens, all of her relaxing into me. When I begin rocking back and forth, slowly, rhythmically in sync with the chords she plays, she falters for a beat. Gradually her eyes open, landing on mine just long enough for me to see all the love from moments ago turned to lust and a deep, needy want. She’s close. Thank fuck.
Careful to not bump the guitar, I slide my thumb to her clit and play her, same as she plays her Martin. Silently we make music together as her song envelopes us, breathier than before. I join in on the chorus, my raspy voice melding with hers as I fuck her, pushing us both over the edge.
Blissed out and with hands on her thighs, I smile wickedly, “Sing it for me again, Wills.”
I’m brought from my thoughts when Law elbows me. “Where’d you go, bro? You okay?” he whispers just as the song finishes and she takes a moment to sip from her mug. I’d bet money it was tea. She always drank tea to soothe her throat when she was serious about a session or we had a lot to work out in the studio.
“Yeah, man. Just thinking about Wills.” Shrugging sheepishly, I glance over at him before letting my gaze settle back on Willow. “I haven’t had to share her like this in forever, not even with you guys really. Not like this.” My voice is pitched low so that it doesn’t travel. “It’s fucking with my head a little. There’s never been a time that she wasn’t mine and that music wasn’t ours. Ya know?” Law just nods, because Willow starts speaking into the mic.
“Bear? Where you at? I need some help on this next one, eh?” I hadn’t heard her drop an “eh” in so long it instantly brings a smile to my face. We teased her ass all the fucking time when she first came to Austin to live with her aunt ‘til eventually she just stopped using it.
“You crazy woman, I’m not coming up there to look bad,” a big voice booms from the bar. Glancing behind me, I see the huge burly fucker that was with her at the school. Chewing on the inside of my lip I watch the exchange and without thinking I stand up.
“I’ll let you make me look bad,” I announce, smiling at her calmly even though my heart is beating out a staccato I’m not sure I will survive. She probably still can’t see me because of the way the stage lights are positioned, but she knows my voice. Better than anyone. I see the shock, and then the resignation flash across her face.
“Holy fucking fuck,” Judge grumbles. There’s no way we won’t be recognized now. Ask me if I give a fuck though.
“I’m sure you don’t know it; it’s not one of yours,” she says haughtily, dismissing me. She’s scared. Willow knows damn well that there’s not a song on the planet that I don’t fucking know. Unless it’s one that she’s written in the last few months. If that’s the case though, it’ll take me thirty seconds to learn it and she knows that shit first hand. Nah, Wills is scared, and scared is good for me.
“Oh, I’m sure I can wing it.” Sauntering up to the stage I hop up and pull another stool from the corner and pick up the guitar in the stand next to it, “Bear” etched into the wood. I glance up and raise the guitar in his direction, asking permission to use it. He nods, not happy but not wanting to cause a scene since we have every motherfucking person’s attention on us, the din in the bar growing as the patrons try to place me. Willow covers the mic and leans toward me, “What do you think you’re doing?” she hisses as I test the sound of the Fender. Smiling to find it tuned perfectly.
“Singing a song with my favorite duet partner,” I say to her like this is the norm for us. Like she wants me here as much as I want to be here with her. I can see how very untrue that is. Then right before me, her stance loosens and she smiles the sweetest, most evil smile at me, and it’s clear I’m going to hate what comes next. It’s either gonna be some fuck awful song or it’s going to be a direct message to me, and knowing my Birdie, it’s a message.
“Well, it must be your lucky night, you guys,” she says to the crowd eyes on me. “My friend and I are going to sing another Johnnyswim song. I’m in a mood clearly.” Wills sets the song up for me and I groan inwardly. She’s going to wreck me, right here in front of everyone, and I volunteered for this shit. My chin hits my chest as I take a deep breath and let my fingers take over. Willow begins singing, not looking at me until I join in with my verse. There are so many emotions playing across her face, in her eyes, as she sings to me now. I chase after each one, holding on to the ones I need to make me whole again.
Everyone in the crowded bar is forgotten as she sings, “Get out of my heart. Get out of my mind . . .
” and even as I repeat the verse back to her, pinning her with my icy grays, I plead with her to let me back in. Plead with her to see that this isn’t our song.
Our voices mingle and then fade as we strum the last chords. The moment we finish, the crowd explodes in applause. Willow and I still staring at the other. It’s been so long since we’ve sung together my emotions are like a big fucking mosh pit right now. My breathing is ragged as I watch her watching me. Her eyes glassy with tears I can see that she’s fighting. Singing with her was always a powerful aphrodisiac—she exudes passion, and so much damn heart, it’s impossible to not want her. Everything inside of me right now is screaming for her. Just the smallest taste. Ever so slowly I lean closer, almost close enough to get my lips on her when the house lights come up, temporarily blinding me. By the time I can see again Wills is up and stalking off the stage to a waiting Bear, arms crossed over his barrel chest. I’m pretty sure the man eats small children for breakfast. He’s massive and unsmiling and wicked fucking protective over Wills, which I don’t like. Only so many reasons a man gets like that about a woman.