Geronimo (A Songbird Novel)

by Melissa Pearl

  “You’re not losing her.” Renee’s voice softened to the tone she used with her kids. “She just hasn’t returned your last call as quickly as you wanted her to.”

  “She was distant the last time I spoke to her. Something was wrong. She was acting edgy.” I thumped the table. “This distance is going to kill me.”

  “Well, you’re due to go back at the end of the month, aren’t you?”

  I scrubbed a hand down my face. “Yeah, as soon as I get paid for the Pullman job I’ll have enough. Business was slower over the summer than I expected.”

  “And you spent basically all your money tripping around France, Spain, and Portugal like a wealthy man.”

  I gave her a dark look. “It was the trip of my life.”

  “Good. Then stop complaining about the fact you can’t return to see your girl yet. Nan’s face when you showed up for her party was worth coming home for. You have to admit that.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I do. I just wish…”

  “I know. And I’m sorry you can’t have everything, and I’m sorry no one in the family can afford to pay your airfare outright.”

  Leaning away from the table, Renee signaled for Devan to bring us another round.

  “This one’s on me.” She winked and I loved her for it.

  It was impossible to stay mad with my sister.

  I was being a grumpy bastard, and yet she still sat with me. I guess I was just worried. Jane and I were so in love when we were together. Skype calls and texts weren’t the same.

  I already felt like she was slipping away from me, and it hadn’t even been two weeks.

  Picking up my phone, I checked the screen again. With a motherly tsk, Renee snatched it out of my hand and shoved it in her bag.

  I went to reach for it but she pushed me away. “Just for an hour. Switch off, stop thinking, enjoy the band.”

  Knowing she was right, I closed my eyes and ran a hand through my hair. Different indie bands had been showcasing their talents throughout the afternoon. Most people were playing covers. One singer got up with an original song that wasn’t bad. A band I didn’t know was on the stage strumming out a tune that sounded like that band Jane liked, Barenaked Ladies.

  “I’m gonna walk. I won’t quit…”

  The song of course made me think of Jane.

  Had I really been contemplating giving up on her because of distance? I had to think of another way to reach her. I had to somehow convince her to marry me so we didn’t have to keep leaving each other.

  But what if she wouldn’t?

  What if she let fear win?

  Renee cleared her throat. I ignored her, too absorbed by the questions thrumming through my brain.

  “Harry.” She nudged my elbow.

  Again, I ignored her, keeping an eye on the band and letting the song inspire me.

  “Useless brother,” Renee sang. “I really think you should turn around and see who’s just walked in.”

  “What?” I gave her a confused frown.

  She tipped her head at the bar, and I turned in a daze until I saw a shock of red hair and snapped up straight.

  “Jane!” I called across the pub.

  Turning at my startled cry, she found me easily, her face lighting like a beacon as she moved toward me. I stumbled off my stool, bumping into someone and having to quickly apologize before I could reach her.

  She laughed and teased, “It’s only four o’clock. Are you drunk already?”

  “No,” I whispered, grabbing her face and kissing her to make sure she was real.

  She held my wrists and laughed into my mouth when a man wolf-whistled to my right.

  Pulling away, I gazed down at her face, still cupping her cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

  “I have to tell you something.”

  I held my breath, my heart drumming in my ears while her lips rose into the slowest, most triumphant smile I’d ever seen.

  Removing my hands from her face, she rose to her tiptoes and whispered in my ear, “Yes.”

  “Yes?” I repeated, sounding like a total plonker.

  “Yes.”

  I gasped and stepped back, holding her shoulders and looking into her eyes. “Yes.” My head bobbed. “You just said yes.”

  “I did.”

  “And you meant it.”

  “Wouldn’t have flown all this way if I hadn’t.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t have.” I picked her up, squeezing her against me and spinning around until she laughed in my ear.

  She placed her hands on my shoulders and grinned down at me. “This is so crazy.”

  “Which is so us.”

  “Yeah.” She nodded and started laughing again.

  I’d never seen her smile so bright, and I let out a whoop before I could stop myself. Placing her on the floor beside me, I shouted at the top of my voice, “I’m getting married!”

  The entire pub paused for a shocked beat. Then Renee raised her beer in the air and yelled, “Go, Harry!”

  Everyone joined her, raising their mugs and toasting us.

  Jane’s cheeks fired bright red, and she buried her face in the crook of my neck. I slung my arm across her shoulders and walked her over to my sister.

  I had no idea how long she could stay, but it didn’t even matter. Soon enough, we’d be connected for good, and oceans wouldn’t be parting us.

  If I could’ve had my way, I’d have married her that very night.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Jane

  Harry and I spent the night celebrating. His older sister made a call, and within the hour every member of Harry’s family had arrived at the pub—even his nan.

  She was a fragile woman with keen eyes and a sharp wit. What she lacked in physicality, she made up for in intelligence. Her hands trembled as I chatted with her for most of the evening, figuring out why Harry loved her so much. It wasn’t hard; she was adorable, and the bond between the two was obvious.

  The rest of Harry’s family was great too. I got to meet all but Simon, who had already traveled back to Edinburgh after their family reunion the week before.

  At around nine, we used Nan as an excuse to get home. Once she was safely upstairs, Harry took me down to his basement bedroom and made love to me. Not the rip-your-clothes-off kind when he’d turned up at my school, but the languid kind. He kissed every inch of my body, pleasuring me until I could barely breathe. When I woke in the early morning, I returned the favor, and the sun rose while I cried out on top of him with my legs wrapped around his waist.

  He held me against him and spun us over. I loved the weight of him on top of me. His head flopped down on the pillow as he panted in my ear. “How am I supposed to take you to London today? I can’t say goodbye to this.”

  I ran my hand up his back and kissed his shoulder. “It won’t be for long. As soon as you fly into LA, we can go straight to the courthouse. Sarah and Justin can witness, and I’m sure Dad can help me work out any visa complications.” Harry’s eyes glistened as I bit my lips together then smiled. “We’ll be legally bound. They’ll have to let you stay.”

  “I like the sound of that.” He covered my mouth with his lips, holding me close as we tried not to think about my impending departure that afternoon.

  “So, are you sure you’re happy to move to LA first, at least until I see the school year out?” I went into planning mode, the best way to cope.

  “Of course. I can work from anywhere.” He kissed my cheek and rolled off me. Resting his head on his knuckles, he gazed down at my face and started drawing circles around my breasts.

  I lightly played with the fine hairs on his forearm. “What about your nan?”

  “Renee and Mum can help look after her. She did fine while I was with you last time. If things get close to the edge, I’ll just find the money to fly back. And with you as my wife—” He kissed my nose. “—you’ll have the perfect excuse to come with me.”

  I smiled, loving the sound of it. Encouraged by how much it
didn’t terrify me.

  Harry’s wife. As long as I didn’t think about the time between leaving him and marrying him, I could stay excited. At least it was short. I wouldn’t be worrying about insignificant wedding details, the things that all became worthless the second Blake died.

  It would be different.

  Heck, I’d get married in jeans and a hoodie if I had to. I just wanted to be with Harry, and marrying him was the best way to do that. I loved him, so spending my life with him sounded like a pretty good plan to me.

  Life.

  Would we get that?

  My stomach knotted as fear nibbled at the corners of my mind. It must have shown through in my gaze because Harry gave me a soft smile and whispered, “You’re not going to lose me.” He then started singing the chorus from “Odds Are,” and I wondered if that would become our song.

  I grinned at him with shimmering eyes until he’d finished the song, then kissed him until we were out of breath again.

  Harry’s alarm stopped us from taking things to the next level. Lifting his watch, he checked the time and murmured, “Got to go check on Nan, and I may as well get us breakfast while I’m up there, eh?”

  “Tea would be wonderful. Thank you.”

  He kissed each of my breasts before he slid out of bed, then wiggled his cute butt to make me laugh. I didn’t hide the fact I was checking him out as he pulled on a pair of sweats and headed up the stairs shirtless.

  Flopping back onto my pillow, I let out a wistful sigh. He really was gorgeous—inside and out. A warm, giddy sensation twirled through me, that lightheaded buzz that comes with new love. I’d felt it with such intensity when I first started dating Blake. I never thought I’d feel it again.

  It was different this time though.

  Blake was like a god to me. At first, I felt like a giggling schoolgirl beside him until he’d finally convinced me that I wasn’t playing out of my league.

  But with Harry it was so easy. We were in each other’s league, easy banter and conversation from the outset. None of that awkward flirting and worrying that he might not like me. We started as friends, and it just progressed into something more.

  Maybe that’s why falling for him was so easy…so natural.

  Sitting up, I pushed the covers off me and padded across to the bathroom. After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I walked back into the room to get dressed. My little suitcase lay open against Harry’s desk, and it made me sad to think I’d be zipping it up again in a few hours and heading to London.

  Thanks to time zones and travel time, I only got one night.

  All that way for one night.

  A smile touched my lips as I recaptured the look on his face when he saw me standing in the pub…and the joy in his voice when he told everyone he was getting married.

  It’d been worth it.

  I’d spend the rest of the week exhausted, but it’d be worth it.

  That excited, giddy buzz ate away at my fear, reminding me that everything would be okay. I didn’t have to worry. My impulses were making me happy. I had to stop thinking so far ahead.

  Life wasn’t going to beat me up like last time.

  Pulling on my sweats, I tied the waistband string then slid on a T-shirt before packing my meager belongings and settling on Harry’s couch. Snatching my phone, I opened Spotify and pressed shuffle play on my “favorites” list. “Somebody To You” by The Vamps. I grinned. I loved that song.

  I bobbed my head as I scanned the bedroom. Harry’s workspace was neat and organized, a good sign. I never did well with clutter, and if he was going to be working in my tiny studio apartment, he was going to have to be tidy. There was a shirt hanging out from his laundry hamper. I jumped up and put it in properly before spinning and dancing my way back to the couch.

  With a satisfied sigh, I flopped back into the plump chair, propping my toes on the edge of the coffee table. A stack of design magazines sat in a crooked pile. I leaned forward and straightened it up, browsing the titles as I did so. They were all website design and artistic magazines. They looked interesting enough, but not as intriguing as the paperback novels on the shelf next to me.

  They were old copies of the greats—Pride and Prejudice, Great Expectations, Wuthering Heights…the copy of The Great Gatsby that I read while in France and Spain. They must have been his nan’s books.

  With a smile, I ran my finger along them until I reached the end of the row.

  Jane Austen was obviously a favorite. Pulling Sense and Sensibility free, I accidentally unearthed a waterfall of photos and letters that had been tucked at the end of the shelf.

  “Whoops,” I murmured, jumping out of the seat and crouching down to tidy them up.

  I flipped over the top photo, which was framed in simple white wood, a sad ache ripping through me as I gazed at the young blonde. She had bright eyes and a cheery smile, small dimples in her round cheeks. She was sitting on a park bench, holding one of the old books I’d been admiring. I couldn’t read the title, but I figured it was one from the shelf. I had to assume Harry took the picture and interrupted her reading with one of his charming jokes. Her smile was mid-laughter, open and beautiful.

  Swallowing, I tucked the photo back in the shelf and continued gathering the other things. There were a few folded letters with “Harry” inside a love heart drawn on the outside. As tempted as I was, I didn’t read them. Harry and I seemed to have an unspoken agreement that we didn’t delve into each other’s pasts, particularly where our lost loves were concerned. We just wanted to move on. Forward.

  No looking back.

  I stacked the papers in a neat pile then placed them back on the shelf, glad I hadn’t been caught. I didn’t want our last few hours to be tainted by an awkward conversation.

  But then I spotted something I couldn’t ignore.

  A picture…a fuzzy black-and-white one that I’d seen before. It was surrounded by words, like a newspaper article.

  With a frown, I reached for it, my heart spasming as I read the headline.

  “Tragic Road Accident Makes Locals Question Tourist Driver Requirements.”

  The paper in my hand began to quiver as I tried to read the article, but I couldn’t. Tears were blinding me, fueled by the black-and-white image of a mangled car askew on the side of the road.

  The car that killed Blake.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Harry

  With a whistle, I carried the tray back downstairs. Nan was set up with her tea and toast. She’d actually been making it herself when I reached her, and she shooed me away from helping.

  So I pottered beside her, keeping half an eye on her shaking hands while she slowly buttered her toast. She managed just fine.

  Stealing the marmalade, I spread it over my piece then added strawberry jam to Jane’s. I even spread it right to the edges, just the way she liked it. A triumphant smile spread across my face as I bumped the door open with my butt.

  “Breakfast is served,” I announced in a posh voice. I was about to set the tray down with a flourish…but was hindered by the expression on Jane’s face.

  Her eyes were gleaming with tears, her bottom lip quivering as she stared at a newspaper article in her hand.

  “What is it?” I set the tray on the coffee table, wanting to rush around the couch to hold her.

  But she held up her hand.

  “Stop! Don’t come near me right now.”

  “What’s the matter?” The question came out sharp and urgent. I didn’t like seeing Jane this way—particularly when I didn’t know what it was about. She looked angry and heartbroken…distraught. I needed to hold her, make it better, but she wouldn’t let me come near.

  She sniffed and held up the paper in her hand. It flopped over before I could read the headline, but I glimpsed that wretched photo and my heart sank. I thought I’d hidden it well enough.

  “I thought we said no pasts,” she snapped.

  “I didn’t think you’d find it.” I had to admit, I
was a little confused. Her reaction seemed pretty extreme. After all, it was about me…not her.

  “This is my story to tell!” she shouted. “I thought we were moving forward. You had no right to go and delve into this. Especially with an article that basically puts all the blame on him! This is my history, my pain. And I’ll tell you about it when I’m ready!”

  “What are you talking about?” I snatched the article off her. The bottom corner ripped, but I was too busy trying to justify myself to care. “I didn’t do anything behind your back. This is my history, my pain. And I…” My voice disappeared as realization hit me like a mallet to the forehead.

  Wait. Put all the blame on him?

  The paper in my hand began to shake as I held it up and read the headline again.

  “Tourist drivers,” I whispered, my heart disintegrating to acidic ash in my stomach.

  “This isn’t your history!” Jane pointed at the article, her voice pitching high. “That’s my…my Blake!”

  Slumping against the back of the couch, I stared at the carpet, unable to look her in the eye. “My Tammy,” I choked.

  “What?” Jane snatched the paper and started scanning the article, her skin paling to a translucent white while her lips began to tremble. The victims weren’t named in the article, as Tammy’s family had yet to be informed. But all the details were accurate—the place, the time, the day…the police’s theory of how it happened. Tammy was referred to as a young woman in her early twenties, and Blake had been named as the American tourist who didn’t understand English road rules.

  I rubbed a hand over my face, struggling to think. “You never said he died here. I thought it happened in America.”

  “No, we…” Her voice petered out, overtaken by rapid breathing that was turning into sobs. “This can’t be happening. Are you saying that Tammy died in this accident? Was she driving the car that killed Blake?”