A Song That Never Ends (Broken Love Duet 3)

His question causes me to catch my breath. I freeze. I don’t know how to respond. I want that more than I could ever begin to explain but just because you want something doesn’t mean all the issues disappear—or the nightmares.

“Reed, I don’t—”

“It’s okay, honey. You don’t have to give me that right now. I know where the spare room is.”

Although he’s not putting any pressure on me and is being incredibly sweet, I can tell that my fear is disappointing him. I know I don’t have much time with him. Soon, he’ll discover he misses his life in Nashville. He’ll return, and I’ll be here. I need to be brave enough to grab onto whatever memories I can. Yet when I open my mouth to speak, I can’t form the words.

Reed helps me get the blankets and then follows me into my room. He doesn’t say anything as I go to my dresser and pull out a T-shirt and sweats that were his five years ago. There are a couple more shirts, but I don’t show him those. I’d have to explain that I sleep in them, and that could lead to a very awkward conversation—one that I’m not really prepared to have.

Once he’s settled, I go to my room alone, feeling so stupid. Why didn’t I just tell him that I wanted him to sleep beside me? I take my bath in a haze of disappointment with no one to blame but myself. I’m almost twenty-seven, yet I can’t even tell the man I’ve cared for most of my life that I want him in my bed. How insane is that?

Tonight, my best friend is miserable because words that needed to be said weren’t. People were hurt, and I’m not sure any of it can be mended. If it can, it will only be for Lennon’s sake. If anything, that should teach me not to hold back.

It takes me an hour to work up my confidence. That’s kind of pathetic, even I can admit that. In the end, I manage to get the nerve to put on one of his T-shirts—a soft green one that I wear most nights. I use a blow dryer on my hair and short of putting makeup on I look about as good as I can. It’s a wonder my teeth don’t chatter with fear as I walk down the hall. My legs feel like water which only gets worse with each step I take. I reach out to knock, doing my best to ignore the way my hand trembles. I gasp as Reed opens the door before I’m able to touch it. I jerk my hand back quickly.

“Callie? Is something wrong?”

“I—”

“You’re wearing the shirt I wore the day we moved into the apartment above the garage,” he interrupts.

“You remember that?”

“I remember everything. I told you that.”

“I don’t think I believed you,” I confess.

“You should,” he counters. “You kept my stuff.”

I look down at the floor. “Yeah.”

“How often do you sleep in my clothes, Bluebird?”

“Would you believe me if I told you this was the first time?” I answer nervously.

“If it’s the truth, then yes.” I stare at him, my breath lodged in my chest. “Is it the truth, Callie?”

CHAPTER 31

Reed

I shouldn’t push. It’s stupid to even hope that she’s held onto me—even in the smallest of ways—and yet, here I am. I’m desperate for her to tell me that she sleeps in my clothes. It’s as if that admission will tell me I’m on the right path. Kingston would tell me I’m being a pussy again, but I need to know Callie wants me here. I want a sign that I’m not doing all of this for nothing.

I move my thumb along her cheek, waiting for her answer and feeling as if I’m on a cliff about to fall.

“I do sometimes,” she concedes. A blush on her cheeks gives away her embarrassment. She’s also avoiding my eyes again. That’s something she does often when she tries to hide what’s going on in that beautiful head of hers.

“You’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you over the years, haven’t you, Callie?”

“You…you…”

“Missed you?” I finish. “Every second of every minute, of every day, Callie. I’ve ached for you, Bluebird.”

“But—”

“There are no buts, honey. I’m just telling you the truth. How about you give me some honesty now?”

“What do you mean?” she asks, her brow crinkling. I can’t stop myself from smoothing it out.

“Tell me why you’re standing here outside my door.”

I hear her take a breath, as if she is storing up courage. I know Callie views herself as weak, but she’s not. She’s strong as hell. This woman survived my fucking brother, and I only know part of the hell he put her through. I was told of some of the stories she confessed to Katie, and they constantly make me want to kill Mitch all over again.