Page 17 of Falling Faster
Maybe we can keep seeing each other long-distance and fly out to visit each other every few months.
But would Ty even want to keep in touch when he gets back to Buffalo? And if he does, would the demands of real life step in and have us drift apart? The connection with this man is deeper than anything I've experienced with anyone. The idea of not having it leaves a hollowness in my gut.
Nothing lasts forever. I've always done my best to enjoy what I have while I have it. But Ty is too perfect, too special, too amazing to only be in my life for a mere two days. Fate wouldn't be that cruel, would it?
Ty is more than a one weekend type of guy. He is a forever type of guy. And I'm not anywhere near ready to say goodbye.
CHAPTER FIVE
TY
I wake to sunlight streaming through the bedroom window and enchanting notes from an acoustic guitar drifting from the hall. Not wanting to miss Craig playing, I toss the covers aside, stand, stretch, and then pad into the bathroom.
A fresh set of clothes, towels, and a new toothbrush are in a neat pile on the sink. Smiling at Craig's thoughtfulness, I quickly clean up. The gray athletic pants have a drawstring waist which helps convert them close to my size. They still bag a little, but rolling the waistband a few inches helps. The light blue T-shirt is the softest cotton I've ever felt. It's a size too big, but I don't care. Wearing Craig's clothes, especially after the night we shared, makes me feel extra close to the man.
The music continues to play. I pause at the entry to the living room. Craig sits in a chair by the window, dressed only in jeans, strumming the guitar. What a picture he makes, with the light playing across his skin. My fingers itch for my sketchbook.
A floorboard creaks when I shift. Craig's attention snaps in my direction. He smiles and the music fades. "Morning."
"Hi." I wander farther into the room, taking in the light gray walls, dark gray throw rugs, a piano, two guitars, and a small black couch. Last night, I was too consumed by Craig to get more than a passing glance at the space.
He sets the guitar in its stand next to an electric guitar and an amp much smaller in size to the ones that had been on the stage during the band's performance. "Hungry?"
"Starving." My heartbeat stutters as he walks toward me, and again when he leans in close and brushes our lips together. I splay my hands across his muscled chest. Heat seeps into my skin and I wish I'd held off on slipping into clothes before wandering the apartment to find Craig. "Have you been awake long?"
"A while." Linking our fingers together, he leads the way to the kitchen. Peering at the microwave clock, he raises his brows. "No wonder I'm hungry. It's been a few hours since I got up. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you woke, but I've learned the hard way that when I wake up with lyrics and melodies in my head, I need to get them down right away or risk losing them forever."
"I lose all track of time when I'm creating things too." The gray and white theme continues in this room. I spy the sketch I'd given Craig hanging on the refrigerator. "You kept it."
He presses a button on the coffeemaker, then takes mugs out of the cabinet. "Of course I did. I'm going to frame it. How about pancakes for breakfast?"
"I'll eat anything." Pleasure surges at the thought of my sketch hanging on one of Craig's walls. Ready to help with the cooking, I lean against the counter, and set the ingredients he passes me in an organized row. "What are you up to today?"
"There's a huge team visit at Children's Hospital this afternoon. Most of our volunteers are taking part." He handsme a carton of eggs and his expression turns thoughtful. "Would you want to come? You could wear a costume. We don't have any villains, but there are a ton of hero choices in the vault at headquarters."
"I'd really like that." Not only do I want to go so I get to see Craig in action and spend more time with the man, but also because the whole idea of the foundation and what they do to spread joy impresses the hell out of me. I want to be a part of it.
Craig pauses with a bag of flour in his hands. Lines of concern crease his face. "Today is the last day of the convention."
I lay my hand on top of his, and press a kiss to his cheek. "I'm fine with missing it. Spending the afternoon with you, hanging out and making sick kids smile is a much better option."
The lines fade away and he beams. "Okay, good. I'm glad."
"So, where's your pancake recipe?"
He taps his temple. "Right here."
I stay close as he whisks together the batter and help by washing a carton of blueberries then add them to the mixture. He puts me in charge of making scrambled eggs while he monitors the pancakes and flips them with precision. Soon, we have a stack ready and full plates.
The pancakes are sweet and the tartness of the blueberry explodes on my tongue. "This is really good."
"I'm glad you like it." Craig smiles at me over the rim of his coffee mug. "And I'm glad you're coming with me later. I can't wait for you to see the kids."
"How did you get started with the charity?"
"One of my old bandmates, the band I was in after Cody and Devon went back to Buffalo, had a son who hadleukemia. He loved superheroes, and was pretty sad about being stuck in the hospital. So that Halloween, my buddy threw a little party for him in the hospital room. We all dressed as superheroes. His son dressed up too. Everyone had a blast. And I saw how excited the other kids on his floor were to see us. So a few weeks later, we went back, dressed up again to visit everyone. Then did it again. And again. It turned into a tradition and we formed the foundation soon after."
Sympathy swells as I picture the scene Craig painted with his words. "That's amazing. And your bandmate's son… Did he…"
