Julia's Journey (A Coming Home Again Novel Book 2)

by Lowe, T. I.

  “Take that nightmares!” she shouts while throwing some more in.

  We do this until we are both hoarse from yelling and have burned away all of the clothes right along with the hurts that have been eating at us. We sit and gaze at the fire long afterwards. It’s like a weight has been lifted. Slowly, I feel many little facets healing for the both of us as well as between us. It’s comforting and scary all the same.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Julia

  Things are changing fast. I’m changing. Greyson is changing. Our friendship is changing. And it scares me. The shopping trip was over a week ago, and I’m still not over it. The way he touched me in that dressing room and the way it made me feel. I’ve never felt that way. Sure, I’ve had more men than I care to confess all over me, indulging their wants—always leaving me feeling used up and hollow. But Greyson’s touch was different. It felt like he was sharing a whole new world with me. It felt right. He only kissed my neck and ran his hands up my sides, but wow. Just wow. He left me wanting more of that feeling and that sucker hasn’t touched me in that intimate way since. And it’s driving me crazy.

  I couldn’t sleep last night from thinking about it all—over and over again. This road trip isn’t going to last forever. Only a few short months to go and it will be over. That thought absolutely devastates me. Greyson Stone has become my sun, whether either one of us wanted it or not. Surely, I will live in complete darkness without him, and that’s nowhere near appealing.

  Never have I felt so protected and respected. When he openly prays and thanks God for me, it’s like my heart falls all apart and then comes back together more whole than before. I feel my heart reshaping, but there’s something still missing. It’s a longing I can’t quite put my finger on. So last night I stayed up late, pouring back over my journal and the scriptures Greyson has been giving me. I feel like they are clues to something bigger.

  The last time I looked at the clock last night it was past three in the morning, so all I want to do is sleep the day away. But my companion isn’t going to allow that. He’s already sitting in my bed, scrolling through some music playlist on his phone. I’m annoyed at first, but the music is really good—some of my favorites. And that’s when it hits me! Bleu Streak! My eyes pop open and look over at Greyson. He has that beautiful grin in place and is showing off those perfect teeth.

  I hop up and start jumping on the bed. “Bleu Streak! Yeah baby!” I launch into his arms and wrap mine around his neck. “Please tell me you found me a ticket, too.”

  “Of course,” he says, still grinning. He pats my hips and looks smug. “Cost me a pretty penny though, but my girl is more than worth it.”

  I think I swoon a bit. Can you blame me? “As long as you think so.”

  “Know so. Now we’ve got to get a move on. You’ve already slept most of the day away.” He pats my hip again and eases me out of his lap.

  I look over at the clock and am floored to find it stating that it is a little after two in the afternoon.

  “Rough night?” Greyson asks as he moves over to the coffee pot.

  “Yeah. I couldn’t get my mind to shut off.” I sit on the edge of the bed and gladly accept the cup of coffee he hands me.

  He sits back down beside me. “You want to talk about it?” He runs his hand through my knotty hair and tilts his head to listen.

  I look away and focus on the cup in my hands. “Not just yet.”

  Greyson releases my hair and stands. “Let me know when you are ready,” he offers as he heads out the door, leaving me alone with my freshly brewed coffee and nagging thoughts. I finish the coffee and brush my concerns and confusion away so I can focus on the treat of Bleu Streak. I grab up Greyson’s phone and plug it into the RV sound system, turning it way up so I can rock out to my favorite band while I shower and dress.

  Greyson lets me ride on his moped. He’s concerned the arena parking will be crazy and doesn’t want us to get separated. He thinks ahead on everything. I, on the other hand, do not. I’m so glad he does because I would have totally freaked if I had to drive a scooter through downtown Atlanta to a packed-out Bleu Streak concert.

  Greyson gets us right up front in the arena, and I’m tingling all over with anticipation. Eight on the dot, the house lights dim and the stage lights start coming to life—first on just the drummer and he sets the beat for the song, then the guy on bass. I can feel the anticipation building and can hardly contain myself. This continues until everyone in the band has made a musical introduction but the lead singer and hotter than all get out Dillon Bleu. We hear him begin to sing before seeing him. I’m looking around frantically for a glimpse of that gorgeous singer when he brushes right past, giving me a sly wink before jumping onto the stage. He’s wearing a hoodie that is masking his face and no one even realized he had slipped into the front row until it was too late to attack him. Oh My! What a way to start a show! I’m squealing like a school girl but don’t care. Greyson doesn’t seem to care, either. He keeps whistling and shouting out. We are both having a blast and it’s just the first song!

  Dillon pulls his hoodie down, and he is quite a sexy sight. His short, black unruly hair is tinged a deep blue all over. That man knows how to rock hair color and tattoos for sure. Okay, so I admit I have a Dillon Bleu poster tucked into my closet back at my apartment.

  The song closes and the crowd goes wild. Once they calm down, he speaks a simple, “Hello, Atlanta.”

  I lean into Greyson for feeling faint at that velvety deep voice.

  Dillon nods his head towards his lead guitarist and his keyboard player. “Yeah, so these idiots will never learn. They thought they would give me a new hairdo.” He runs his hand through his black hair with blue hints and girls scream out all over the arena. Dillon gives the guys a pointed look before murmuring into his microphone. “Looks to me, the jokes on them.”

  And he’s right because Max King and Trace Leigh both have nearly neon orange hair. The band is known for their pranks. The crowd laughs and claps. Some yell out for Mave, the drummer, to take his hat off. He’s normally known to be right in the middle of the pranks. Grinning, he takes his hat off and flings it into the crowd—revealing a thick, short mop of chestnut-brown hair. He smirks towards his identical twin brother that looks nothing like him at the moment and then over to Trace. He gives the drums a ba-dum-da-dum beat, causing everyone to laugh. Logan pipes in with a few chords from his guitar. He’s one hot Lenny-Kravitz-looking man. He has his signature shades on and is grinning over at the drummer as if they are sharing some inside joke. Knowing these guys, they probably are. I follow them all on social media and they are just so yummy. And that Mave, oh my, he has gotten yummier in the past year. I saw an ad campaign he posed for, some kind of protein shake, and that stuff has most definitely done that body good.

  Glancing over to Greyson, I wonder if he uses the same protein product, because it has obviously done him good, too. It’s not gotten past me that a large group of females have managed to surround him. He’s polite as ever—granting them a kind smile, but it thrills me to no end that he keeps scooting closer to me. His hand hasn’t left my body one time—either on my shoulder, placed on my back, or holding tight to my hand.

  Dillon brings the microphone back to that lovely mouth of his and says, “Mave and Logan finally got wise. You can’t get one over on the master.” Dillon motions towards himself causing whistles and shouts to break out in approval.

  Dillon places the microphone into the stand and pulls the hoodie off over his head—revealing a tight-fitting black T-shirt underneath that shows off the ink on his arms. He tosses the hoodie in the crowd. Greyson holds his hand out and easily catches it. He’s so tall that it really wasn’t a struggle to snatch it. He leans over and ties it securely around my waist. It’s so big that I look like I’m wearing a skirt. I don’t care! I have a Dillon Bleu hoodie! I just don’t know how much more of this I can take! The girls scream and whistle with me joining in.

  Dillon straps
on his signature blue guitar and starts strumming a few chords. I can barely contain myself. He leans towards the mic. “Enough talk. Who wants to hear another song?”

  The crowd goes wild when Dillon launches into their hit song, “My Jewel.” Several songs follow and I’m washed down in sweat from dancing around and rocking out. Greyson joins in with abandon as he does with anything. He enjoys things to the fullest and gives no thought to how people perceive him. I’m starting to crave that freedom as well. I just want to be me. Tonight I try it his way and find I am having the best time of my life. His hair is damp and curling from sweat as well and his face is just glowing. My heart squeezes as I look him over. The man is so full of life.

  Halfway through the concert, stagehands haul out another set of drums and place them beside Mave’s. A teenage boy strolls out on stage and looks like an identical replica of Dillon Bleu minus the tattoos and blue hair. Mini Dillon goes straight over to the drums and launches into beating them to life. Mave joins in and then the rest of the band as Dillon croons out the lyrics. Oh, how I could just listen to this man sing for the rest of my days.

  The song continues with the two drummers taking turns at showing off their mad skills. At one point, they reach over and beat on each other’s sets before twirling the drumsticks in the air and catching the others. Without missing a beat, they go right back to playing with the crowd going even wilder. It’s quite a choreographed show and I am just beside myself!

  After the song concludes, Dillon walks over to the young drummer and gives him a fist pump. “This good-looking dude is my son, Will.” He pauses as the crowd cheers. “Will is Mave’s protégé. How ’bout another song?”

  The crowd begs for more and boy do they ever deliver. Later, Dillon sings an a cappella version of Eddie Vedder’s song, “Hard Sun” to close out the show. It is so moving when we watch him ease to the edge of the stage and pulls his wife right in front of us to serenade her. She’s such a petite little thing, and he towers over her protectively. He sings about being a better man when she walks beside him, and I think that is the sweetest thing. And how that sexy man looks at her… It’s reverent.

  I ease my gaze over to Greyson and warmth spreads through me, because I know I’m a better woman when I walk beside this man. I watch as he lifts those graceful hands to his mouth and summons an earsplitting whistle.

  When the song concludes, Dillon murmurs an introduction in that deep, velvety voice, “Ladies and dudes, my Jewel.” Then, he commences to kissing her thoroughly right there on stage. Wow…

  We leave later, on such a euphoric high and with ringing ears. After we get back to the RV, we both just drop into our outdoor chairs and grin into the night. The campground is so silent, aside from the crickets chirping, that it almost seems eerie after being in such a lively arena all night. I’ve wrapped myself in Dillon’s hoodie and keep sniffing the clean woodsy smell of him. I have no idea what cologne it is, but I tell Greyson I want him to find out and start bathing in it. He just chuckles at my comment as he continues to study the stars.

  “That was awesome. Just freaking awesome!” I say hoarsely. I’ve just about lost my voice tonight.

  “Yeah. Those guys are epic.”

  “Dillon Bleu is some kind of yummy,” I comment after a stretch of silence. Greyson just rolls his eyes at this. “I sure wish I could be his jewel.” I sigh dramatically.

  “Well, you’re not. Sorry, babe.”

  “Do you think he really loves that woman as much as he claims or do you think it’s for entertainment purposes?”

  “It feels pretty real to me. He may be singing those songs in front of us, but I have no doubt that the dude is not singing them to us. That’s for sure.” He glances over at me once he grows quiet.

  We just stare in silence for a while, but I eventually look away first. “It must be something to be loved like that,” I whisper.

  “The world loves you.”

  “No. The world loves Julia Rose—the façade. Not Julia Thorton—the ordinary country girl.” The world has no clue as to who I really am. It’s sad.

  Greyson reaches over and takes my hand. “I think I know the real you, and there’s nothing ordinary about my prissy country girl.” He pulls my hand to his mouth and kisses it, causing my entire arm to light up in tingles. “You are loved, Julia Thorton.” He releases my hand and heads inside, leaving me alone as he always does to think about the words he gives over to me.

  I sit for a good while longer, stunned—staring off into the clear night sky until his words sink in completely and cause me to cry. Greyson Stone just admitted to me he loves me. Maybe not in love, but love. And for some reason that means more to me in this moment. His love is so foreign, and I want to understand it. It goes deeper than the outer shallow love or lust. I’m beginning to see that his kind of love can’t be a man-love. I think God has a lot to do with it, and it’s confusing. I really want to understand.

  I eventually dry my tears and go inside. I find my journal resting on my pillow and know he has left me another gift. I open it and find the verse Proverbs 20:15 - There is gold, and a multitude of rubies: but the lips of knowledge are a precious jewel. Underneath that Greyson has written – Please know that you are loved. You are a precious jewel to me. But greater than my love could ever be for you is the love that can only come from God. Let Him, as well as me, love you. Let us in. You are a precious jewel to me, and I want you to never forget that.

  I start to cry all over again. I want both Greyson and God to love me. I just don’t think I’m worthy of it. I’ve done a lot of things I’m ashamed of… I think this through a minute and realize Greyson knows most of it—the poor choices—and chooses to love me anyway. Maybe God does too.

  I set my journal down and look up love in my Bible about. I need to understand that foreign word better. I find abundance on the topic, but one section really touches me. It is 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 - Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. I’ve never read words that describe Greyson Stone so perfectly. I scribble these verses below his in my journal and seek out some more. The next one I find stops me in my tracks. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is where I need to be. I need to understand these verses before I can understand anything else.

  I write down Romans 5:8 - But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. I study it for the longest time. Something is nagging me about it, but I can’t figure it out. I just cannot understand a love so intense it would make you want to die for it. I get up to go discuss it with Greyson, but change my mind when I find him sleeping soundly as he always does. The man lives in a peace and I’m really starting to crave it too. I just don’t know how to obtain it.

  I sit on the edge of the bed and look him over with help from the small hints of light filtering in from the other room. I study the scar on his bare chest and long to touch it, but I don’t want to wake him. His hands are thrown over his head and I can see the faint scar under his arm. I hurt just looking at them. And I hurt for what he had to endure. I wish I could take that from him. I wish I could have lived that pain for him. I wish I could have saved him from it.

  The verse comes back to mind; But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Maybe I don’t totally understand it yet, but I feel it clearing up. I love Greyson enough to be willing to suffer for his betterment. Is that what God desires for all of us? It sure feels that way…

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Greyson

  Today is another one of those days I want to bottle up and take out anytime I need, wanting none of it to fade. It started out with another great morning. I awoke and found my lovely girl snuggled up beside me sound asleep. This is a first. I
don’t even remember her coming in here last night. She’s been staying up most of the night for the last few nights. Something is bothering her and she seems to be trying to work it out during the dark hours. I know she’ll come to me when she’s ready, so I decide not to bug her about it just yet. I watch her sleep awhile before disentangling myself from her. Being this close is too much temptation, so I leave her to sleep and head to the small kitchen to start up some coffee.

  I stop at what I find and just have to smile. Well, I can guarantee I’m out of Gorilla Glue. Yesterday Julia went through my phone while we were in town and had several of the photos I’ve taken of our trip printed out at a pharmacy with one of those photo machines. These photos are now glued to my fridge, covering the entire stainless steel door. I stand before it and look it over. There’s a selfie pic we took at the concert where we turned around so we could get Dillon Bleu singing in the background. There is another one from the white water rafting day that the guide took for us. We are both soggy from falling in, standing by the water’s edge with our arms wrapped around each other. I smile as I see she has the one from the Witching Woods added. I had that guy Scotty take one while we were wandering around in the dark woods. Julia is smiling very little and I’m smiling a lot. There’s a picture that marks each leg of our trip together. The mugshots of us smiling like idiots are tucked into the collage as well. I grab my phone from the counter and take a picture of the collage. I send it to my parents and text—My adventure.

  My dad texts back almost immediately. Didn’t know Julia was your adventure?

  My mom texts back a little after him. I think she’s a perfect adventure for you!

  I hadn’t meant the picture to have that meaning, but the more I study the collage, the more I can see my parents are completely right. Julia Thorton has been my adventure for a very long time. And it’s an adventure I certainly never want to end.