Mister Dick

Something broke open inside me. Something hot and feral, yet soft and protective. I bent lower, my intention to say some things, words strung together that were meant to comfort. Something in her eyes made the beast inside me growl, and the hot air that swirled around us didn’t help tame it.

I swept my lips across hers without asking. I didn’t think beyond the physical. I slid my tongue inside her mouth, and she tasted like heaven. She was hot and wet, and she opened beneath me so easily, it made me crazy.

I could have given in to my carnal thoughts. Could have taken advantage, and God knows I wanted to. I wanted her naked and open with me buried deep inside her. But the thing about growing a conscience, about growing the hell up in general, is that I couldn’t only think about myself anymore. Especially not with Echo. She mattered.

I broke contact and, breathing heavily, backed away. Her swollen mouth, her shiny eyes, and all that silky hair was nearly my undoing.

“Boyd?” she whispered.

The sound of her voice hit me in the gut with the force of a sledgehammer. I didn’t have to look down to know my cock was trying to salute through the confines of my jeans.

“I’m trying not to be a dick here. Trying not to take advantage.” Voice rough, I nodded toward the door. “When you figure your shit out. When you know what it is exactly that you want, you know where to find me.”

I turned and headed for the door. I didn’t look back because I wasn’t sure I’d be strong enough to resist her if she made a move. I headed into the crisp night air and realized I was either an idiot or the smartest man on the planet. I was hoping for smart, but considering my past with Echo was spotty at best, I knew it wasn’t a slam dunk. I had to hold on and hope things worked out.

I’d come to Live Oaks not really knowing what it was I wanted. But things had changed, and there was a hell of a lot at stake. And the surprising thing was, it had nothing to do with music.

21

Echo

It was quiet when I finally crept into the main house. I’d stayed in the studio for at least an hour after Boyd left me there and thought about some things. My dad. My sisters. What I’d done to Harmony. Boyd. My life. I’d thought so hard that my head hurt, and I rummaged in the cupboard beside the fridge because I knew Marta kept pain meds in there.

I took two and drank a big glass of water before heading upstairs to my room. I didn’t look across the hall. It took everything in me not to. I knew I had to deal with me first. With the mess inside my head.

I slipped inside my room and quietly closed the door, leaning against it because my legs felt weak. The old clock on the table beside my bed told me it was close to two in the morning. Outside, the moon hung low, shedding her light so that it fell through the windows into my room.

With all that thinking I’d done, I was more confused than ever. I pushed off from the door and walked to the edge of my bed. My cell was on the night table where I’d left it hours ago, and I scooped it up before I could change my mind. I lit it up and searched my contacts. The phone rang three times, and then she picked up. Her voice was thick with sleep, and for a moment, I was confused. When had Harmony ever been in bed before two a.m. on a weekend?

“Hello?” she said again, knocking me out of my stupor.

“Hey,” I replied, fighting the urge to hang up without speaking. A childish thought, I know, but always my go-to when I was stressed. I avoided confrontation like the plague. I’d done it in the past and fully admitted my weakness. This, I supposed, was growing up. Facing your fears head-on, in a way, and taking the consequences.

“Who is this?”

The question surprised me, and I frowned. Was she joking?

“What do you mean, who is this?” I whispered loudly, wincing at the desperate tone of my voice. I heard rustling. A male voice in the background. And then she was on the move.

“Echo?” No longer was her voice full of sleep. It was thick and sharp and full of unmistakable anger. “Why are you calling me at nine o’clock on a Sunday morning?”

I ignored her question. “What do you mean, who is this?” I repeated hotly, fingers clamped tight to my phone, my heart thumping in my chest, making it hard to breathe. “What the hell?” I stalled and then took a moment to consider things. “You deleted me from your contacts?”

Okay. We hadn’t spoken in weeks. Not since New Year’s Eve. But I knew we’d always figure this shit out. So for her to delete me from her phone was a blow. And it pissed me off.

“Seriously?”

“I did,” Harmony replied without a hint of anything close to admitting she might have gone overboard.

“Well, joke’s on you. It would have been better to block me.”

“Oh, I did that first.” I heard her exhale and pictured her leaning over the edge of some balcony, God knows where, holding a long, thin cigarette in her hand. “I saw Lyric a few weeks ago, and she must have added you back in without me knowing. She obviously didn’t attach your name to it, because I wouldn’t have answered just now. Plus, it’s nine o’clock on a Sunday morning in Paris.”

/> Paris. Of course. I remember now. There was an opening of some club near the Champs-Élysées, under a bridge near the port. For a hefty fee, I’d been scheduled to appear as well, but Lyric told me Harmony was still planning on going, and since I’d done what I’d done, I’d graciously bowed out. There was a time when I wouldn’t have considered doing such a thing. Paris and a new club opening was too high-profile. But I decided it wasn’t my place to ruin the weekend for Harmony. How adult of me.

Geez. If my Nana were still alive, she’d slap me on the back and tell me I’d grown like a sprout, in more ways than one. But she wasn’t here. She died nearly ten years ago. And I think a part of my dad died with her.

“You haven’t hung up,” I said quietly.