Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
I looked at him, and my heart damn near burst. “Rem…”
“Paper,” he said suddenly. “Paper and a pen. I need paper and a pen.” He rolled off the bed and looked in the nightstand.
“Now?” I asked, even though it didn’t really surprise me. He’d always been like this.
“Yes. Fuck. I’m sorry. I…I gotta get this down. My thoughts are spinning.”
My legs didn’t want to work, feeling like rubber as I stood. “I’ll go get it.” A small part of me was annoyed, but when I returned with the supplies and he began scribbling, lying there naked and sweaty, giving me this glimpse of him that no one else saw, I was reminded that Remy creating was a beautiful thing.
I joined him again and kissed his shoulder blades, his spine, his lower back. “I love the way your mind works. I love watching you write.”
He didn’t reply, and I didn’t take offense. It was almost like he was manic when he got this way, when his muse shared secrets with him.
“I need my guitar,” he said after a moment. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, but it’ll make me crazy if I can’t get it out.”
He went to stand, and I said, “Wait.” I got out of bed again, this time going to my closet and pulling out the guitar—the one Remy had been playing onstage the first time I saw him.
“You kept it,” he said with awe.
“Of course I kept it. There are new strings on it too.”
“I…I don’t know why, but I needed you to have it.”
I wasn’t going to lie, those words filled me up, settled into my soul. “Make music.”
Remy nodded, sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed.
I lay down beside him, stroked his leg, kissed his knee, and watched him, savored being let into his universe, wondering how in the hell he didn’t see how fucking incredible he was.
I fell asleep to the sound of soft chords and the scratch of pen on paper, like I’d done so many times before.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Remington
I lay there and watched Law sleep. I hadn’t gotten any of it all night, but it had been worth it. I hadn’t been able to turn my muse off, and as any artist did, I lived for those moments. Something about yesterday, about the day we’d had and then being with Law, had opened me up, had unlocked all these little doors and boxes inside me that I’d thought were lost, some that I hadn’t even known were there.
I was in love with what I’d created for the first time in too long.
I was coming down from it now, like it had been a high. It felt like one, but I knew I still wouldn’t be able to sleep, so I watched him, twisted a curl around my finger, because I knew he’d sleep through it.
It was about seven when I had to piss bad enough to force me from his bed. I used the bathroom in the hallway and found my pants, tugged them on, and made my way into the living room.
Bear looked up at me, and I could swear I saw some kind of warning in his eyes—be good to my dad, mister, or you’ll have me to worry about. Which obviously meant I was losing my mind. Lack of sleep would do that to a guy.
I rummaged around Law’s kitchen until I found coffee and filters. I got a pot going, then went toward the door. “You need to go out, boy?” I asked Bear. He stumbled off the couch, all legs, and ran outside.
I was leaning against the doorjamb, waiting for Bear to do his business, when my cell rang. It didn’t surprise me that someone called this early. Steve didn’t believe in business hours. If he needed something, he called whenever. My sister, Leslie, was the same, except with her it had nothing to do with work, only with what she wanted.
When I tugged my cell out of my pocket, Steve’s name glowed on the screen. I felt a tightening in my gut as I answered the call. “It’s early.”
“Oh, is it? I hadn’t noticed. Sorry. How’s it going out there?”
“Good.”
“You writing?”
“Some.” I didn’t know why I couldn’t tell him I’d been possessed all night. It felt too intimate, like what I’d created was mine and Law’s even though that wasn’t really how it worked.
“Anxiety?”
“Managed better than it has been lately.”
“Glad to hear it. Seems like that small-town air is doing you some good.” Steve paused. “The other issues?”
I frowned. He was talking about the fact that he knew there was a man here I was interested in, but his words were like sandpaper against my skin. “I wasn’t aware I had issues.”
“You know that’s not what I mean, Remington.”
“Do I?” I wasn’t sure I did.
“You should. Hell, half the people I know are queer. They’re careful if they’re in a situation where they have to be, so I’m asking you, have you been careful?”