Page 77 of Home Coming

Quinn didn’t seem to notice the photographer. Or just didn’t care if he had noticed. He hovered over Axel, staring him down in silent domination.

“Fine. You know what. You can have her. She was a lousy lay anyway.” Axel scowled.

Bailey watched Quinn’s chest expand as he slowly shook his head. He reached down and with one fist tangled in the fabric of Axel’s black T-shirt, he hauled the younger man onto unsteady feet.

Once Axel was upright Quinn smoothed the wrinkled fabric with the hard slap of two palms that had Axel taking a single step back to stay balanced and standing.

“If I were you, I’d learn some manners.” Quinn stared and waited. When Axel didn’t move, probably because he was frozen in fear, Quinn said “You should go now.”

Axel glanced at the crew surrounding them and at all the raised phones no doubt broadcasting the event live if not recording it for later.

“Yeah. I’ll go. But only because I’m done with her and I got someplace important I need to be.” Axel turned and swaggered away—that was the only word she could come up with to describe his cocky strut as he left them.

Quinn snorted then turned back to her, his eyes softening. “You all right?”

He was here. She’d never been better.

She nodded in answer to his question then, ignoring the cell phones and the camera, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for you,” he said.

She couldn’t have asked for a better reason.

“Oh.” Swallowing, she tried to contain both tears and a smile. “Thank you.”

One corner of his oh-so-kissable mouth tipped up. “You’re welcome.”

Their gazes locked. In a Hallmark movie this would be the time at the end of the two hours where the hero and heroine finally kissed for the first time and went off to their happily ever after.

The tour manager popped around the corner. “Bailey, you’re on in five.”

And there it was, proof her life was not a romance movie. There was no happily ever after.

But Quinn was back. At least for now. And for now, that was good enough.

CHAPTERTHIRTY

Bailey was amazing.

She owned the stage. She owned the crowd. They loved her.

And the songs…

Quinn knew she had talent but he hadn’t known how much.

In the short time since he’d seen her last, she’d written so many songs. Each was more powerful than the last.

He hadn’t thought she could do better than that first one she’d written about Axel betraying her. But she’d done it. The new ones were even more amazing.

Songs about love lost. Songs about being alone. About loving someone and having them not love you back.

He wasn’t cocky enough to easily believe she’d written all of these about him. But if not him, then who? His heart clenched thinking it actually might be him who was her inspiration.

Warring emotions had him torn between hope and dread. He wanted it to be him as much as he didn’t because these songs were about how painful it was to be in love.

She hadn’t invented these lyrics out of thin air. These songs were personal. Full of raw emotion and pain. Pain he’d caused.

And selfish bastard that he was, he was likely going to cause her more pain because he was done being good. Done being the better man. The one who walked away from his feelings. From his desire.

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