“I never saw eye-to-eye on politics with my grandfather,” I say calmly. “Or on a lot of other things. And the same might be said of Lacey and myself, but I appreciate that we’ve remained friends anyway.”
Her annoying campaign manager is freaking out at the corner of the stage. I can see his arms flailing from here. Luckily, he’s still whispering whatever irate words he’s saying. I smile. The enraged look on his face only serving to calm my nerves. Lacey, on the other hand, doesn’t look angry, just confused. My eyes move to someone standing just behind them.
Bowen. He’s wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt and if it wasn’t for his golden hair glinting in the park lights, he’d be basically invisible. Our eyes meet and his mouth lifts in that perfect, effortless smile of his. And I smile back and I feel twenty pounds lighter. It must be the fact that the emotional cinder block that has been parked on my heart for years is finally gone.
My eyes move to Grant and then Joe. “You guys and the drummer can go. I’ve got this.”
I turn back to the crowd who all look either confused or annoyed. I clear my throat. “Let’s be honest, this band wasn’t really your cup of tea tonight. So instead of leaving you with another loud cover tune, I thought maybe I would play you an original. It’s softer, slower. Feel free to grab someone and dance to it.”
I put down my electric guitar and walk to the edge of the stage where Grant hands me my acoustic. I get to the mic and clear my throat and move my eyes back to Bowen. They don’t waver or blink as I continue. “I wrote this song about who I want to be one day. I didn’t have an actual person in mind when I wrote it, just someone who lives fearlessly and with determination. I’ve met someone who, in spite of all the horrible things life throws at him, lives that way. And I love him for it. So, this goes out to my boyfriend Bowen Whitlock.”
And then, my eyes still on him, I strum the first few chords of Dauntless. I’m not so sure anyone hears them, or the words I’m singing, over the murmurs and gasps in the crowd when they realize I just dedicated a song to the opponent’s brother and alleged drug dealer. But I really don’t give shit. I’m singing this for me and Bowen who is listening and smiling and being my everything.
When I’m done there’s a smattering of polite applause and a bunch of loud clapping from Joe and Grant. Bowen is wolf whistling. I put down the guitar, leave the stage, and head right for him. I stop abruptly, suddenly afraid to touch him. Does he forgive me? Is he going to take me back?
That lazy smile is no longer lazy. He’s beaming. “Did you just come out? On stage? By calling me your boyfriend and telling a bunch of conservatives you admire me?”
“Yup.” It’s as much of a sentence as I can make right now.
He blinks and I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “Wow.”
“Yup.” I take a step closer to him. “And I think the word I used was love, not admire.”
“Right. It was.” Bowen shoves his hands into his hair and does the most unexpected thing. He laughs. “Dear God, Chase. And you think I’m the fearless one? You’re… you may be giving up millions.”
“I definitely just gave up three and a half million dollars,” I confirm and it sinks in. It sobers me a little, but I have zero regrets. “Also I think Bennie is the asshole who lied to the paper. He went in your shed at that fundraiser and the names of the plants are written on the backside of the pots.”
“I was coming here to tell you the same thing.”
“I’m sorry. He did that because of me,” I reply.
“I don’t blame you.” Bowen puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “I can’t believe I was stupid enough to believe you’d ever do that to me. I’m sorry.”
“Forgiven.” We’re standing almost on top of each other so I reach out and cup the back of his neck, tipping my head toward his until our foreheads are touching. “So can we kiss and make-up now?”
“Right now?” I nod and Bowen smiles, moving his lips against mine ever so slightly. “Why the hell not?”
And so I kiss him like we’re re-enacting the final scene in a romantic comedy, minus the comedy part because behind me I can hear Lacey’s campaign manager yelling about contract violations and who I’m sure is my aunt Hilda gasping, and my cousin Amy is the voice declaring “Oh my God!” loudly.
But I block them all out and just kiss Bowen, my boyfriend, for the whole damn world to see.
24
BOWEN
“I’m glad you talked me into going back to your place,” Chase says as I pull off Route 116 and inch up the long driveway to the house. “I know my parents will show up at my loft at the crack of dawn. My aunt has definitely already told them, or someone at the event did, I’m sure. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were already on their way to Vermont.”
“I’m glad Joe and Grant offered to pack up the equipment without you,” I reply, rubbing my thumb across his wrist as our laced hands sit in his lap. Thank god I have an automatic so I can hold his hand easier.
“Grant felt guilty. We can milk that for a while,” Chase tells me. Turns out, Grant did buy two marijuana plants of his own, and Bennie saw them at his place and asked him about them. Grant told him, in detail, who explained all about the marijuana laws in Vermont. And that I had my own plants at home. Bennie went searching for them at the fundraiser and found them. He admitted he found out the names because he saw I had “Bert & Ernie food” written on a bottle of plant food in the shed. The only way to keep Chase from punching Bennie in that moment was to pull him to me, which led to another kiss, in front of everyone.
“If we stayed a second longer, I think that campaign guy’s mustache would have burst into flames from the heat of his anger.” I grin.
Chase laughs. It’s loud and a bit wild and sexy as all hell. He sounds free. He looks it too. His shoulders are down, his head tipped back against the headrest, and his eyes are glassy like he’s been drinking but he hasn’t had a drop. It’s crazy but it’s true and it’s the only reason I haven’t mentioned the inheritance or the drama that will definitely play out in the next few days, or even weeks. Because he deserves to have this moment.
I turn off the car and we both open our doors and jump out. I walk around the front of the car, knowing he’ll head that way, toward the room above the garage, but I hook him by the arm and press his ass to the car, and my body into his and kiss him. “My bed is much bigger and much more comfortable.”
“Your bed? In your room? In your house?”
