Page 17 of Sing Me Home
Dad pulled me into his arms. I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes, breathing him in. Aftershave and books. That’s what he smelled like. Always. And Mom’s perfume because he still, even after all these years, couldn’t keep his hands off of her.
Which is probably how she ended up pregnant again.
The thought of another baby made my eyes water. Or maybe it was being in my dad’s embrace. “I missed you.” It came out in a whimper.
His chest shook and for a second, I thought he was laughing. But then I realized he was holding in a sob. “We thought you might be dead.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I sniffed. “So sorry.”
“Why’d you stay away so long?” Mom asked behind me, her voice ripped with pain. I hid my face in Dad’s shoulder. When I didn’t answer, she wrapped her arms around Dad and me, making me the nucleus in the atom.
I’m sure concertgoers walking by thought this was weird. Awkward. Something to be done behind closed doors. They were probably right. But I couldn’t care just then. I was finally home. Even if I didn’t deserve to be.
“Chuck!” Theo called. I glanced over my shoulder to look at him. “You coming with us?”
I stepped back, breaking the three-way hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I didn’t give them a chance to respond—I turned and made a beeline for the guys.
I darted past Cash and followed the others. But Cash’s legs were longer than they used to be and in two strides, he caught up. He gripped my left back pocket like I was a skittish colt that might take off the first chance I got.
I gave him a look that saidreally?
His gaze burned into me, sending an unspoken reply.Yes, and don’t fight me on this because you’ll lose.
I wish Lorne had loved me half as much as Cash apparently did.
Had I known Cash loved me before Hawaii? No. Hadn’t even occurred to me as a possibility. I told myself it was just a charged few minutes and he probably regretted it. Or maybe he only kissed me because he was mad I’d married Lorne. But the fourteen love songs he’d written and posted on his social media over the past year left no room for doubt.
Cash didn’t loosen his hold even as we came to the van and all the guys could see what he was doing.
“Bro, she’s not going to bolt,” Bowen said. Half his face was hidden under his wavy, dark hair that was cut into a style that should’ve been pulled into a man bun. But that was Bowen. Broody and mysterious.
They all chuckled awkwardly. But I couldn’t. It was taking all my effort not to combust from Cash’s unrelenting smolder. Or the way they were all gawking at his possessive behavior.
“Shut it,” Cash breathed. “I haven’t seen her since Hawaii.”
“None of us have,” Bowen said.
“It’s different for him, Bozo,” Griffin said. “You know it is.”
“We missed you, Charlie,” James said in a placating tone.
Liam tossed his head up, knocking his blond surfer bangs out of his eyes. “Facts. It hasn’t been the same with you gone.” He folded his arms, making his massive biceps bulge.
Theo clamped my shoulder and held my gaze. “We’re glad you’re back.”
“Let’s get one thing straight. I missed her the most,” Cash said in a tone that dared anyone to try to one-up him. “Even more than you, Theo.”
“Mkay,” Theo said on a chuckle, but I could see his hurt. No matter what scary stuff happened in our lives—and there’d been a lot—Theo and I always stuck together. But I’d disappeared on him too.
My eyes burned and my chest squeezed. What must they think of me? Not coming home for four years, even when my parents begged. Dodging all of their texts and calls. Completely disappearing for the last year.
“It’s good to be here,” I said, though the words seared my throat.
Finally, Liam unlocked the doors. He cranked the engine before I was even inside. Everyone sat exactly where they always did, like I’d never left. Liam in the driver’s seat. Theo rode shotgun. The three brothers—James, Griffin, and Bowen—in the front bench seat. Which meant Cash and I were in the back.
He held onto my pocket almost until the moment my rear end connected with the upholstery. Then and only then did he let go. But only so he could put on his seat belt. As soon as that was done, his arm wound around my shoulder, tugging me against his side. That was new. Back in the day we didn’t touch unless we were poking or prodding, trying to get under each other’s skin.
I shouldn’t have let him. He was getting the wrong impression. But the internal pull to be close to him was even stronger than his physical pull. And I needed him right then.
