My Life as an Album (Books 1-4): A small town, southern fiction series

by LJ Evans

  “I want you here with me.” His voice turned husky with desire and it filled her with a returning flame. He ran his fingers along her palm and up the inside of her arm and down alongside her breast before sliding over her nipple that had hardened under his touch.

  She trembled and pulled away from him.

  “No,” she said, backing up another step. “You know I can’t think when you touch me.”

  He closed the distance that she’d made, and then he was kissing her until her whole body was on fire. He slipped his hands under the hem of her shirt and pulled it off before she could even think to protest. Her body was not protesting at all. Her body was yelling for more. To be closer. But her brain was desperately trying to process all the information. To respond.

  Every place his hand touched, his lips followed, and before she knew it, he’d stripped her of her clothes. And then he stopped and stared at her with the moonlight glistening in through the window.

  “God, you’re exquisite.”

  When he picked her up by the waist, her legs curled around him automatically. He carried her into his bedroom. She kissed his neck slowly, finding her way over his chin and to his mouth. She bit at his lower lip, and he growled a response, pulling her down with him onto the bed.

  “Move in with me,” he demanded between kisses on her throat.

  “What? No. Stop talking.”

  He kissed her senseless. Hands and lips moving against her body in a pattern that drew her closer to the edge of forgetfulness.

  “Move in with me.”

  She shook her head.

  He continued his onslaught of kisses and touch.

  “Move in with me.”

  “Seth.”

  He ran a hand over her body and down the front of her until it rested between her legs. All he had to do was run one finger there for her to gasp with desire.

  Then suddenly he stopped. He stopped touching her altogether, and she felt the withdrawal as if she’d received a shot of ice up her spine. Her eyes flew open. He was looking down at her with a look that was demanding something. More than she knew how to give.

  “Seth!” She moaned at his absence.

  “Say you’ll move in with me.”

  “Oh God,” PJ moaned again, pushing herself closer, but he withheld his touch.

  “Say it, Bella.”

  “I’ll…move in.” And he smiled so breathtakingly at her that all he had to do was touch her once more, and she was over the edge.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  When she woke, it was to a room that she was coming to love. With the same dusky sunlight filtering in through the slats and the sound of the ocean crashing against the shore, soothing her. She could smell coffee and eggs. She turned over to see Seth’s side of the bed empty. He was an early riser.

  She slid into his t-shirt and found her panties on the floor. She used the restroom and looked again in the mirror that a week ago saw her happy and sated as well as sick and guilty. Now, she was rosy with happiness again. She didn’t want to overthink it. She didn’t want to see the sad girl today. She didn’t want to think about regrets or unwanted texts. She pulled her sloppy curls up as always and then went in search of Seth.

  She found him cooking in the kitchen again. She loved that he cooked. She didn’t—doesn’t. There were times when he’d tried to teach her in that same kitchen, but it had never ended the way they had intended it to. She was an awful cook and still got no enjoyment out of it. Top Ramen was her number one meal.

  He was wearing another pair of flannel pajama bottoms and no top. She stared at his chiseled frame. Even the scar that traveled his entire side couldn’t make him less unbearably sexy. She barely stopped herself from running her fingers along his muscles. She knew if she touched him, she wouldn’t be able to have the conversation she needed to have with him.

  He looked up and smiled his heart-wrenching smile at her. The one that didn’t appear very often, and when it did, it was always at her. That made her heart flip over. He eased toward her, and she backed away, putting the kitchen table between them.

  “Seth, we need to talk.”

  “Kiss me. Then talk.”

  “If I kiss you, I won’t be able to talk.”

  His lips twitched, trying not to smile, and she wanted to smack him and kiss him at the same time. He stood, feet apart, arms crossed over his naked chest. She swallowed hard, trying to not get caught up in her own reaction to his body.

  “It’s about what we…uh…talked about last night.”

  He waited expectantly.

  “I can’t move in with you.”

  It took only those words for him to shift from happy to another emotion. Not quite angry, but something near it. “You said you would.”

  “Yes…well…we both know that what I said last night was said under quite a bit of duress.”

  “Duress?” She’d thought he’d smirk at that, but he didn’t. He was actually upset.

  “Yes. We don’t know each other hardly at all. I may have some very obnoxious habits that you can’t stand. Maybe I’m a slob. Maybe I don’t pick up any of my clothes or dishes.”

  “Lots of roommates know each other far less.”

  “But we wouldn’t be just roommates, would we?” She couldn’t help the doubt that wiggled into her words.

  “No. We wouldn’t be just roommates.”

  He reached for her, but she moved around the table farther. He gave chase. Every step she made, he seemed to take two.

  “Stop.” She put her hand out and moved again, but somehow, impossibly, he seemed even closer. Any minute now she was going to be within reach of his arms.

  “You know this doesn’t make any sense.”

  “You already said yes.”

  And he had her, pulling her toward him until she collided with his chest. Its smooth planes ran up along her breast, speaking to her body in a way only his body could.

  “Tell me something about you. Something I don’t know,” she said shakily.

  “I don’t like it when people go back on their word.” His voice was gritty. He put his hand in her tangle of hair and pulled so that her face was looking up to him.

  She huffed out a breath. “That’s hardly what I meant.”

  He kissed her. Hard and possessively, and then surprisingly, he let her go. She didn’t think he would until she’d given in again, but as he held her hand and drew her over to the counter, she realized he thought she’d already given in.

  He went back to the stove and dished up plates of fruit and eggs and toast. He slid it to her on the counter before joining her.

  “What do you want to know?” he asked.

  She stopped with the eggs halfway to her mouth. Maybe he hadn’t assumed she’d already given in. She frowned. “How did you get your scar?”

  “My asshole father.”

  She stopped and turned on the stool so that her legs were tangled with his. “What?” she strangled out in shock.

  He didn’t respond.

  “Jesus,” she breathed.

  He kept eating. It was almost as if he was distancing himself from the discussion. She wondered, not for the first time, if Seth’s hard exterior was protecting him from the pain of the things within. Just like her own wall was hiding the twisted mess she was inside. A tangled knot of cords that no one wanted to unwind. Except, she did want to unwind his.

  “Is that why you went to live with your grandparents?”

  “No.”

  “Why did you?”

  “Bella, this is not what I meant. You want to know what I will be like as a roommate. I’m neat. I like things neat. I won’t be pissed if you don’t do the dishes, I’ll just do them myself.”

  “But isn’t it all related?”

  “How I like to keep my shower clean is related to how my parents couldn’t stay sober long enough to keep CPS away?” he said with a flash of emotion that confirmed he was hiding the pain where she wouldn�
��t see it.

  She was speechless. Unable to say more as she thought about a young Seth living with addicts who couldn’t take care of him. But she also knew he didn’t want her pity.

  “I work long hours in my studio. Sometimes I don’t even know that a day has passed until my stomach growls in protest.” He moved on in the wake of her silence.

  “Well, I can make sure you won’t forget the time,” she teased, letting him move on from the discussion he didn’t want to have even though she knew she hadn’t heard enough.

  He rubbed his fingers along her thigh. “I’m sure you will.”

  “That’s not what I meant. See. This is exactly the problem. All we’ve really done is have sex.”

  “Make love.”

  “Whatever. You don’t know me.”

  He pulled her off the barstool and led her toward his studio. Inside, the chair with the silken purple metal was off to the side, and in its place was a series of shadow boxes. She looked inside the boxes.

  One had a piece of a ceramic plate with writing all over it and next to it was a metal rod with feathers sticking off the top that looked a lot like her purple flowered pen. Justice had given it to her at thirteen when she started interviewing people. The next window in the shadow box had a metal heart frame with pieces of leather and a baby bottle and ropes tied into it that instinctively reminded her of her family. Of Justice and Liv and baby Cole. Another was two twisted metal pieces tied together with knots that seemed passionate, as if they were merging into one through their dancing embrace. Another had wood pieces that fit together as if they were nesting dolls. There were more windows, and some reminded her of her laughing relationship with Claire, or the way she crossed the tire course at the gym, or how she looked at the ocean with such peace. The boxes were beautiful and vibrant and full of color and emotion and life.

  “They’re amazing.”

  “They’re you. I do know you, Patterson Ginny Hensley.”

  She turned to see him staring at her in that intense way that felt like he was taking her soul and embedding it inside him. She wondered how he had figured out her real name. It reminded her of No Caller. It made her stomach turn slightly, but she also knew that Seth wasn’t No Caller. Seth wouldn’t hide behind an anonymous number. He hadn’t. He’d come after her hard and fast. That was way more Seth than sending vague messages. He was all direct attack.

  He seemed to read her mind about her name. He shrugged and added, “I like Google.”

  “My mom loved Patsy Cline,” she breathed out. “Patsy’s real name was Virginia Patterson. My mom thought Virginia was too old-fashioned, so she flipped the names around.”

  She swallowed. She hadn’t thought about her mom in a long time. Not that way. And then she saw one of the shadow boxes that seemed to reflect exactly the loss and pain she felt about her parents, and she wondered how Seth knew that all that pain was still inside her from losing them.

  But…there was a box missing if this was her. A secret box that she didn’t want him to know. She didn’t want to know how he would carve the metal and wood for that emptiness. For that piece of her that she hated.

  When she finally looked up at him, what she saw in his eyes was so close to the love she’d been searching for back then that it tugged at those pieces she was still hiding, trying to tear them away from her.

  She went to him and kissed him like there would never be another time to do so. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held onto her like he’d never let her go, and she knew then that she didn’t want him to.

  She knew that she would move in with him. That somehow she belonged with this man who could see her so clearly, even when she couldn’t always see herself.

  Later that day, when Seth told Liv and Justice about them moving in together, and Justice had protested, she’d still known, with a conviction that she couldn’t shake, that it was right.

  As they were leaving his house, Justice had pulled her aside and whispered, “Don’t move in with him. You have a room here.”

  “I can’t explain it, but somehow it feels like it’s meant to be,” she’d told him honestly.

  When she’d turned away to look at Seth waiting for her with the door of the Porsche open, she knew that it was true. Somehow, she was meant to take this path. She wasn’t sure why, but it was what was supposed to happen.

  Even months later, in New York, she knows it’s still true. Regardless of how it ended, it was still the path she was supposed to take at the time.

  Letter Six

  I’LL BE THERE FOR YOU

  “I’d live and I’d die for you.

  I’d steal the sun from the sky for you.”

  -Bon Jovi & Sambora

  Dear Bella,

  That month that I waited for you to move in, I had more patience than I’d ever had in my life. I know you think I wasn’t patient, but me, waiting for you, that was the most waiting I’d ever done in my life without going completely off the rails. It was the only reason I could let you go each time you left me because I knew that I would only be letting you go for moments of time. That soon I’d be waking up every day to you in my arms, to our skin on each other’s skin.

  When I showed you the shadow boxes that I’d made of you and you agreed—or at least didn’t disagree—to move in with me, I was filled with relief. Relief that I couldn’t shake as we made our way back to the kitchen and finished the breakfast I’d made for you.

  That relief was followed by a sense of happiness that I can’t remember ever having before. It sent me to my computer to look up Dylan Waters while you were showering.

  When you came out of the bedroom, you were in your Freestorm clothes, and I didn’t catch on at that moment that you were going to work. I thought we were going to spend the day reveling in the fact that we were moving in together. I know you are probably frowning that little frown of yours because you can’t imagine me reveling in anything. Celebrating. I know I probably didn’t show it to you. I’m sorry. But I was happy, Bella. More than you can ever imagine.

  You eased up next to me and asked, “What are you doing?”

  “Researching Dylan Waters.”

  “The director?”

  I nodded.

  “Why?”

  “He wants to buy my waterfall.”

  “That’s awesome.”

  “Except the piece really wasn’t for sale.”

  “It wasn’t? Why?”

  I looked at you all fresh and shiny from the shower, your beautiful curls pulled up into a ponytail, and I just couldn’t prevent myself from touching you. I pulled you so that you were between my legs with your back up against my chest, and my arms went back to the counter and the computer. You were trapped, but you didn’t seem to mind. Not then. Then, you relaxed into me.

  “It was my first major piece,” I tried to explain.

  “So, you feel attached to it.”

  “Yes. But for a long time, it also reminded me of Cam.”

  “Cam?”

  “The girl who broke my heart.” For the first time in so long that I couldn’t even recall, it didn’t hurt to say her name and to tell that story.

  “The gilded cage girl?”

  “The bird inside the cage was supposed to be her. I’d even told her that. One day when I was angry at my parents and at myself, and impatiently waiting for LaGuardia’s reply, I got drunk, and I destroyed it.”

  “How awful.”

  “When Cam saw it, she thought I was destroying her.”

  You held your breath and then let it go.

  “But you were really just destroying your chance with her.”

  You leaned slightly to kiss the inside of my arm, and I hated and loved that you could feel any sympathy for me. I didn’t deserve it. I’d been a prick to Cam and many of the people in Tennessee. I rested my chin on your head.

  “But what has this to do with the waterfall?” you asked.

  “She was the first
one to see it finished. It’s all I had left of her good impression of me.”

  You were silent, taking in all the information I’d given you. I didn’t know what you were thinking. But I did know that the only impression that mattered anymore was yours. I was sharing because you’d asked me to and you’d agreed to live with me and it seemed like a fair trade: a piece of me for all of you.

  Except I didn’t really get all of you then, did I?

  “So, what makes you consider selling it now?” Your hand moved slowly up and down my arm, making me wonder if I should just take you back to the bedroom and be damned with any other plans for the day.

  “Well, he’s offered a million and a half for it.”

  Your hand froze. “Dollars?”

  I chuckled. “That’s what I said. It was a million at first.”

  You swallowed, pushing aside what you really wanted to say in order to tease, “But he thought you were just playing hard to get.”

  “I don’t play.”

  “He doesn’t know that.”

  “But you do.” I kissed your neck, and you briefly drew me closer with a sigh of contentment before pulling yourself away and turning back to my computer. You weren’t done yet trying to peel back the layers you thought I was hiding. There’s nothing to hide, Bella. Just me. Just life.

  “So why are you researching him?”

  “I don’t want to sell it to some chump.”

  “So why sell it at all?”

  “I don’t need it anymore. I have you.” The honesty I said it with seemed to hit you because you froze again and then you ran.

  You pulled yourself from my chest, ducked under my arm, and would have headed to the door if I hadn’t caught your hand with my own.

  “Where are you going?”

  “The gym.”

  I couldn’t help my disappointment. “I thought we had the day together.”

  “The gym is only closed on Sundays. I have a tween class at ten. Then I want to stay and make sure everything’s running smoothly. Justice says he’ll be back on Monday even if Liv and the baby can’t come in yet. But I don’t want him to have to worry about anything.”