Page 15 of Sing Me Home
As soon as Charlie was within reach, I yanked her over the yellow line and crushed her against me.
“What’re you doing here?” I managed to get out, forgetting we had an audience of sixty thousand. Until they let out a collective sigh. I distinctly felt her ribs beneath my fingertips. Why was she so skinny?
She leaned back to look at me, my arms still wrapped around her waist. Man, she was so beautiful. Her fingers skimmed across my shoulders, lighting me on fire. “You didn’t think I’d miss your first concert, did you?”
The crowd let out staggered,awww’s.
“You’re really here,” I choked.
She gazed into my eyes. “I’m really here.”
Another sigh from the fans.
I was fully aware that my band sounded like a broken record, playing the same four measures on a loop—but I was still having trouble with my oxygen levels.
“Are we gonna finish this song or what?” She laughed. “You wrote it forme, didn't you?”
I stared at her, wondering if she knew how many times I’d prayed for this exact thing. “Of course, I wrote it for you. Who else would I have written it for?”
I heard a scoff that sounded distinctly like Millie.
Charlie’s espresso eyes twinkled. Her hands slid down my biceps and over my forearms. She tugged me toward the stools and I tripped over my own feet to follow.
Once we were seated, I looked over my shoulder at my band and nodded. With that, Charlie and I started our first public duet. I blinked as infrequently as possible, my eyes never leaving her face, for fear I’d open them to find out this was all a dream.
When we got to the bridge, Charlie stopped singing and once again, I was performing a solo. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands, watching me.
Every love song on the radio,
Feels like a story we left untold.
If you ever wonder where I am,
I’m still right here, trying to understand.
All the joy left her beautiful face. But I widened my eyes, inviting her to finish with me. She joined back in.
I ain’t over you, maybe I never will be,
I’m still waiting for you to see?—
I’m the one who’ll love you right,
So please, please come home tonight.
I set my guitar down and slid to my knees in front of her. Her hands cupped my jaw as she held my gaze. I finished the song alone.
Please come home…tonight.
Maybe I was imagining it but it looked like there were tears in her eyes. And maybe four years of regret?
“I’m here,” she said softly.
I twined my fingers through hers. “You are. And I promised myself if you ever came home, I’d never let you go.” The entire stadium swooned. Well, all the women. A handful of men groaned, probably wondering how their Ford Dupree concert had just turned into a romance novel. “Stay with me,” I said, just like I had in Hawaii. “Never leave me again?”
Only this time she agreed. “Yeah.”
Her arms hooked around my neck. Then she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. When her lips touched my skin, a ragged, broken sound ripped loose in my chest. As the pain of the last four years disappeared into the breeze, peace took its place. My mind stilled. No one was in this football stadium but the two of us. I couldn’t hear anything or anyone, except the quiet, rhythmic in and out of her breath.
