Page 14 of Bound By Song

To the fear in her eyes – and the fierce, fragile strength she’d wrapped herself in to keep us out.

And somewhere, deep down, I hope I can fix the damage we caused.

I stand by the window, staring out at the mist that’s begun to settle over the cottage grounds. The sky is grey, heavy with the threat of more rain, but I can’t shake the restless need that’s gnawing at me.

I need to go back.

Without thinking, I turn to the room Blaise chose for himself, glancing at him sprawled out on the bed. He’s still out cold, breathing evenly, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.He’s got a good few hours before he’ll be up, but I’m already pacing in place, the guilt tightening around me like a vice.

I need him to understand.

I walk over to the bed and sit on the edge, nudging Blaise’s leg with my hand. He stirs slightly, muttering something incomprehensible as he shifts, but doesn’t wake. Typical.

“Blaise,” I say, a bit louder this time, my voice rough from lack of sleep.

He groans, pulling a pillow over his face. “Five more minutes, dude. Can’t we just…not today?”

I can’t help the frustrated sigh that slips out. “We need to talk.”

He shifts again, pulling himself upright with a groan. “What, now?” His eyes squint against the dim light, his hair a mess. “I swear, Xar, you’re worse than my mother when it comes to wanting to talk.”

I don’t laugh. I’m not in the mood for jokes right now. “I’m going back to the farmhouse.”

That gets his attention. His eyes snap open, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. “What? You’ve got to be joking.” He sits up, stretching and rubbing his eyes. “We just got here. We need to focus on the album, man. We don’t have that much time.”

“I know,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “But something’s not right. I can’t get her out of my head. I’ll be useless anyway, unless I know she’s alright.”

Blaise stares at me for a beat, then groans and rubs his eyes. “You’re not seriously going back there, are you?”

“I have to. I don’t think she’s okay. She was…scared. And we made it worse.” I pause, my voice quieting, as the weight of the words settles in. “I don’t care if it’s awkward or uncomfortable, I need to check on her.”

Blaise blinks, his expression softening just a bit, though his words are still teasing. “So, what, you’re going to go back and rescue the damsel in distress? Is that it?”

“I’m not going to rescue her,” I snap, though the words come out too sharp. I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “I just…I need to make sure she’s okay. That we didn’t do more damage than intended.”

Blaise sighs, looking like he wants to argue more but sensing that it won’t do any good. “Fine,” he mutters, pushing himself upright and stretching his arms above his head. “But I’m not happy about it.”

“You don’t have to be,” I say, standing and heading for the door. “But I’m going. You can either come with me or stay here and wait for me to get back.”

Blaise hesitates but climbs out of bed, stark bollock naked and as shameless as the day he was born, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”

“No,” I reply firmly. “And put some fucking clothes on, dickhead.”

He grumbles under his breath, but I catch the edge of concern in his eyes before he nods. “Right. Fine. But if we’re going back to that farmhouse and playing hero, I’m driving. I’m not letting you get us lost again.”

I open the door, my boots thudding against the floor as I step into the hallway. “Deal.”

It doesn’t take long for Dane to wake up. He’s always been an early riser despite being a night owl, even when we were younger and the world was spinning too fast for any of us to keep up. I swear he never sleeps more than two or three hours a night, and yet, he’s always able to function perfectly.

He’s in the kitchen, sipping strong black coffee, before Blaise and I even make it down the stairs.

“Where are we going?” Dane asks, glancing over the rim of his mug. His eyes flick over us both, and I can tell he already knows what’s coming. He’s dressed for the day, sure, but he also has his black boots and leather motorcycle jacket on, so I know he’s ready to leave the house before I even say a word.

“I’m going back to the farmhouse,” I say, keeping my tone steady.

Dane sets his coffee down, his face unreadable for a moment. “You’re serious?”

“I can’t stop thinking about her,” I admit, my gaze steady as I look at both of them. “I need to make sure she’s okay.”

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