Page 84 of A Ballad of Betrayal and Beauty

“Do you want a drink? I think I have some vodka in my freezer?—”

He grasps my hand and stops me from moving away, then with a look of utter anguish, he pulls me against him. Arms wrap around me, squeezing, and I feel him shudder.

My fingers trail up the back of his shirt, skimming gently along to calm him down. “Oh . . . Joel?—”

“It’s all just such a mess,” he whispers into my hair.

He buries his face in my neck for a long moment until I release him, sliding my hands down to grasp his face. At first he won’t look at me. Merely stands with his eyes closed, his mouth turned down in the first real frown I’ve ever seen on him.

“Joel? Listen,” I whisper.

His eyes open to meet mine.

“Everything will be okay. You’ll see. Whatever has got you down . . . we can figure it out.”

“We?”

Something tumbles in my stomach as his gaze darts over my face, and it’s like I’ve missed a step going downstairs. “I mean . . . I just thought—but if you don’t?—”

His smile comes back. It’s still haunted, but it’s there. “No, Idothink . . . I just wasn’t sure ifyoudid.”

I lick my lips, tamping down the excitement rushing through me. “Well, I don’t want to rush into anything—” I grasp his hand when he raises a questioning eyebrow. “I’m not seeing anyone else. What I mean is . . . I need time to sort out all thesefeelings. Does that make sense?”

His eyes soften and he tilts his head. “Yeah. It does.”

I let out a huge breath. “Okay, good. Because I do want to try this.Us.I mean, it’s not like you gave me much choice,” I tease. “You wouldn’t leave.”

He chuckles, then his face becomes serious again. “It’s okay if you need time. If you need your freedom while you figure things out. But I need you to know—I’m all in.”

Can a heart burst? “Really?”

His lip pulls up at the side slowly. “Yeah, but I’ll wait for you to be ready. I’m not in a rush.”

The kindness in his eyes almost brings a tear to mine. “You sure you want to gamble your heart on me?” I ask.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

His kiss this time is slow, sensual, and sparks something in my core that I’m not sure I can contain. I want him. I’ve wanted him and his body for two fucking years, and right now, in this moment, it’s mine. He said so himself. So why am I still nervous? As if sensing my hesitation, Joel pulls back to whisper against the corner of my mouth. “We don’t have to do anything. I’m happy to just hang out and talk.”

I smile. “We could talk on the bed and see where things go?”

That devilish grin is back, and next thing I know, he’s scooping me up, his large hands under my thighs, and I’m wrapping my legs around his hips like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Our journey to the bed is clumsy and sweet; my shirt gets caught in the doorjamb, and Joel stubs his toe on a chair, but we make it, falling onto my bed in a pile of limbs.

His heat and weight next to me is exhilarating. It’s been so long since I’ve had this kind of contact, and I’m starved for it. He squeezes me to him and kisses my forehead. “I swear I didn’t come here with the intention of hooking up. I really just didn’t know where else to go, and . . .”

Trailing off, he gently plays with my hair, a look of despair returning to his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He sighs. “Someone has come forward and accused the band of stealing songs.”

I frown. “What?”

“I’m not sure if you’ve watched the news recently but?—”

“Joel,” I say, gesturing around my bare-bones apartment. “I don’t own a TV, can hardly afford to subscribe to a newspaper.”

He shakes his head. “It feels like it’s been all over the place. It’s ridiculous. The guy is a scab. He was involved in a very early version of the band but never contributed anything except a massive headache. A complete waste of space. But now he’s coming out and accusing us of stealing his songs.”

I prop my head on my hand so I can meet him at eye level. “But how can he do that if he didn’t write them?”

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