Page 78 of Last Chorus

Helpless.

Lazy.

Crazy.

Too much, too much, too much…

Showering brings me back to the present via the unavoidable evidence of the last twenty-four hours. I relive every touch. Find and press every tender spot. Stretch to feel the burn of muscles and sigh into the phantom warmth and fullness.

Wilder and I may be in another limbo—this one a strange inversion of our vow as teens—but I take comfort in what my body tells me. Whathetold me. What my soul has always known.

We’re made for each other.

Somehow, someway, I’m going to fix what’s wrong with me. Course correct our past. Because I’m not letting him go.

Not ever again.

A few hours later,the soft creak of the door opening wakes me from a light sleep. Footsteps cross the room. I hold my breath as the covers lift, as the mattress dips and the sheets rustle. His arm slides over my waist. He fits himself against my back, tucking his knees beneath mine.

Relief pours from my lungs in a sigh. I find his hand and draw it to my face, pressing a kiss to his warm palm.

“I can’t do it,” he whispers. My stomach drops, but then he continues, “I can’t sleep knowing you’re right across the hall and I could have you in my arms.”

Guilt and elation war inside me. “I’m sorry.”

His exhale is thick with humor. “Liar.”

I kiss his palm again before cradling it to my chest. Looking over my shoulder, I find his eyes in the shadows. “You’re right, I’m not sorry. Sleeping beside you was at least twenty percent of why I came.”

His brows lift. “That so?”

I nod. “You’re the only nightlight that’s ever worked. I haven’t slept for seven years. Not really. Not like I did with you.”

He exhales my name, eyes dropping to my mouth. My lips tingle. His features tighten, head tilting slightly with intent.

I don’t know where I get the strength, but I turn away before he can break another one of his rules. His forehead drops to the back of my head, a long sigh warming my neck.

“I suck at this,” he murmurs.

I hug his arm tighter. “I think we both do.”

“The phone call—that was stupid, not telling you. It was just band shit I forgot about. Our manager needed a confirmation for a festival headliner slot next summer. Eddie took it upon himself to call me over and over until I picked up.”

“Are you taking the slot?”

He rubs his face against my hair. “Mmhm. The booking agent has hounded us for years, but our schedule never lined up before now.”

“Bullshit. You hate festivals.”

He chuckles. “Truth. They’re chaotic as fuck and hell on my nerves. At least this one is local, and the lineup is pretty killer. Horizon Fest at the Gorge. Heard of it?”

I gasp and slap his arm, then twist to see his grin. “Glow is headlining Saturday night. Are you Friday?”

Wilder nods, chewing his lip. “We could write a song. You and me, I mean. No pressure or anything, obviously.” He pauses, taking in my shocked expression. “Sorry.Shit.I shouldn’t have—mmfph.”

His eyes widen above the hand I’ve pressed to his mouth.

“Yes,” I say emphatically. “I’d love to write a song with you.”

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