The Road That Leads to Us (Us 1)

I grinned. “Of course. I might be a little rusty, though. So no judging.”

He chuckled. “Willow, you have the voice of an angel and you know it. Quit playing.”

I laughed and pushed my blonde hair out of my eyes. I looked out at the water and waited for him to start p

laying.

The first few chords rolled through me and a smile touched my lips.

This song…it was a special one.

One I knew by heart and was etched into my soul.

It was the song my parent’s had written about me before my birth and was titled My Sweet Willow. It was one of a few duets they’d released over the years. My dad, while the drummer in his band, could sing, and so could my mom. Together, their voices melded beautifully.

Dean sang the opening lines of the song and I closed my eyes, absorbing the sound of his voice.

I’d always loved to hear him sing. His voice was husky and deep, with this unique shakiness to it that I knew came from his passion for music.

My turn to sing came and my higher pitch lifted into the air.

I managed to open my eyes then and turned to see Dean grinning at me.

It had been a long time since we sang together. Too long.

The chorus came and both of our voices melded together.

Our voices were so different, but somehow it worked.

I found myself smiling at him around the lyrics.

It came time for me to sing by myself again and he ducked his head, a piece of hair falling over his forehead. When he lifted his head and his green eyes connected with mine I felt a little gasp tumble from my throat, making me stumble over the words. I quickly recovered, although I was mildly embarrassed about my reaction.

Dean pretended not to notice, but I knew he did.

Dean didn’t miss anything.

I finished my part and his voice picked up once more.

God, I loved to hear him sing.

Hearing him now reminded me how much I’d missed this.

My year away at college I’d shut myself away from everything back home. It had hurt too much to be reminded of everything I missed so much. I’d been miserable and I didn’t want the reminders. So I ignored phone calls and texts and pretended my life back at home was on pause, just waiting for me to return.

Dean could’ve been pissed at me for my silence, but he wasn’t that kind of guy.

Instead, like I wanted, he’d picked up like I’d never even gone.

A single tear coursed down my cheek and I wiped it away hastily, erasing it from existence.

Dean and I finished the song together, although my voice was shaky from unshed tears.

Dean set his guitar aside and looked at me with worry in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Being here with you…I missed you so, so much while I was gone and I should’ve told you that.”

“Ah, Will,” he shook his head, “you’ve never been very open with what you’re thinking and feeling. How could I expect you to start now?” He winked, opening his arms for me to dive into.