Page 4 of Tear Me to Pieces
Guess freaking not.
Simon ambles my way, my heart rate picking up speed with each step he takes. I swallow hard as my eyes trace a slow path down his long frame.
After spending a lifetime surrounded by men with pasty complexions, soft hands, and squishy middles, Simon is a shock to my system. A wall of solid muscle and deeply tanned skin. Rough hands that are usually covered in small injuries from his job as a welder, but are still so, so gentle. Strong enough to carry me like I weighed nothing as we raced away from the misery of my past life, but his movements are still graceful and elegant when he sets the beat on stage.
He’s unlike any man I’ve ever met. I’ve spent months trying to forget his scent. The sound of his voice. The slow way his lips lift when he smiles.
Now it’s clear I didn’t come close to forgetting. At best, I simply ignored—all those things and more.
But there’s no way to ignore anything with him standing so close. Looking the way he does and smelling even better.
Reminding me how much I wish I could have him.
2
SIMON
I’ve been homefor two seconds and it’s already clear I shouldn’t have come back yet. I should have told Christian not to book a gig and found another job to fill the month I have free. Hell, I could have just stayed in Texas and fished until I’m scheduled to be in Florida.
But that’s not what I did.
What I did was come up with every bullshit reason I could think of to make my way back here. Because, in addition to being a selfish asshole, I’m also a selfish asshole. One who knows what he should do, but never seems to follow the path of righteousness.
I pick damnation every fucking time.
And this morning is no exception. I haven’t even parked my fifth wheel, and it’s already evident how fucked I am. How painful this visit is going to be.
How many wrong choices I’m about to make.
Myra’s going to be so close I can touch her, but might still be too far away to reach. And I’m not strong enough to accept that. Not when everyone around me is so damn happy. Enjoying days with their kids and nights with their wives. And not when her sadness is already reeling me in. Making me want to prove how fucking happy I could make her.
Pulling in a deep breath, I do my best to seem relaxed as I walk toward the woman I’ve struggled to forget.
“I didn’t know I was coming home either.” My hands are curled into fists, clenched around the little restraint I possess. Forcing my fingers to relax, I fight the urge to touch her. To provide comfort I’m not sure she’s ready to receive. “The job I was supposed to be starting Monday got postponed until next month. Christian decided to take advantage and booked us a few gigs while I’m off.”
It sounds plausible. Technically, every word of it is true. Christiandidbook us gigs. Iamoff work.
But the blame for my appearance here in Memphis is all on me. No one here needed to know I have a month of freedom. I could have simply made one of the short appearances I’m known for and made myself scarce the same way I have for years. Instead I made sure I was locked in. Let Christian schedule a month’s worth of excuses to keep me here.
Close to Myra.
Her full lips barely lift into a hint of a smile. “Yeah. I heard.”
My eyes move over her face, drinking in the soft lines of her smooth skin. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her, but I still know every curve and angle by heart. Would give anything to trace each one with my fingers.
With my tongue.
I clear my throat, forcing my thoughts from where they always manage to go. “Does that mean you’ll be gracing us with your presence at The Cellar?” The eagerness I feel over Myra watching me perform bleeds into my voice, but I can’t undo it now. All I can do is hope she doesn’t notice. Hope she doesn’t see how much I want her to be there.
Looking out into the audience and seeing Myra’s face staring back at me is the most perfect torture I’ve ever known. Watching her watching me, wishing she was ready for the things I’m dying to give her.
Again, a whisper of a smile lifts her lips. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”
I was already looking forward to playing this weekend, but now the wait will be excruciating.
I do my best to stay away from Myra when I’m home—the last thing she needs is another man who wants something from her—so watching her from the stage is one of the few times I allow myself to indulge in the fantasy I’ve been holding onto since I carried her through the woods.
I’ve saved countless women in my life. Dragged them away from abusive husbands and boyfriends who beat them. For me, not a single one of them was anything but a woman in need of help.
