I better not be getting sick.
Rebel wasn’t in bed. She threw on her robe, padded out of the bedroom. As she made her way down the hall, the strumming grew louder.
Rebel—dressed in a black tank and torn, black jeans—was sitting on the ottoman by the window, playing his acoustic guitar, the achingly melodic chords tugging at her heartstrings. She entered the living room and stopped.
Maybe he wants to be alone.
He started singing, a whisper under his breath. His voice was deep and soulful. She found solace in closing her eyes and letting the music carry her far, far away. When the song ended, a peace she’d never known settled in her heart.
Across the room, their eyes met. The love that passed between them couldn’t be denied.
“That was beautiful,” she said.
“I play when I can’t sleep.” Then, he patted the chair. “You’ve got a front row seat, if you want.”
Her heart leapt.
She made her way across the large room. As she walked past him, she ran her fingers across his back before curling up in the chair. He turned to face her, started playing a song from her playlist. For these few special moments, everything faded away, leaving only the pure, sweet sound of his music.
When he finished, his gaze found hers. “I love you,” he murmured.
“I love you too,” she replied.
And her heart felt complete.
22
ACORN
Joaquin
Rebel set down his guitar, scooped Brit into his arms, then sat back down in the oversized chair.
One tender kiss led to many. They shared a smile, then a sadness blanketed her eyes. “I’m sure you’ll break my heart, but it’s?—”
“Don’t go there,” he said, cutting her off. “You gotta promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“Just enjoy this. If it lasts a little while or seventy years?—”
Her eyes grew large. “Whoa, there’s an expiration date?”
“Oh, yeah. When I get to a hundred, we gotta renegotiate the entire relationship.”
He loved making her laugh, but her glee was short-lived. “I just can’t help but be scared.”
“So, you’re a badass with a gun, but a scaredy-cat in love?”
“Exactly.” Her brows knitted together. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Too much on my mind. Playing music clears it away, for a little while.”
She stood, held out her hand. “C’mon, we have to sleep. Even you, Joaquin.” She rubbed her neck. “My throat hurts. Do you have any salt?”
In the kitchen, he handed her the salt container. “Are you gargling?”
“Yeah.”
