turned that over in my head. Then he faced me again with his phone in his hand.
“And I can play it for you, if you want to hear it.”
I did.
But what did it say about me that my stomach bottomed out at the offer? Even as the butterflies in my gut started beating their wings at supersonic speeds.
Fuck being afraid of it.
“Yes, please.” Course the crumbs escaping when I spoke had me clapping a hand over my mouth as Ian chuckled. His eye softened, and his other eye opened a little wider. The ice was definitely helping, but it wasn’t working a miracle. He was going to need more than just that. Easing closer to me, he lifted his arm and eyed me. “This okay?”
It took me a beat, more because I was kind of embarrassed about spitting out food than I was anything else, but I leaned forward and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. Mindful of my new bruises, he curled me back against him, and I sighed as I settled in. He found the list of songs on his phone and then cued up the one he sent me.
The title got me.
Keep Breathing.
The opening bars of the music strum beautifully on the guitar. Having been to the studio, I had to wonder if he recorded it there, because there was a second base line just below the guitar, like he was playing both parts and laid the tracks down together. It was a sweet invitational, almost folksy in the way it beckoned a person to sit down and listen.
Gradually though, it gave way to something deeper and almost haunting. Then his vocals came through like liquid gold, his voice deep and mesmerizing. Those haunting melodies turned almost enchanting with the song he wove about waking every day a little bit darker, like the light was gone. It would be almost too much, except the light wasn’t a person, it was what that person did for him.
She saw the light in him and encouraged it.
She.
Me.
I was the one who encouraged his music and loved to listen to him. Now that he was alone with the notes, they were the only thing he had to remind him of what she’d seen in him. The song took me on a journey, but at the heart of it, was the fact that I’d broken up with him.
Tears burned in my eyes as he admitted it was his own fault, but he wanted the light back. He wanted me to believe in him again. He wasn’t perfect. He might never be. But he would be the best he could, if it would get him a second chance. Until then, he’d just keep breathing.
I had to suck on my upper lip to keep the tears from falling. It was beautiful.
Oh, I didn’t know if I could have handled listening to this before when he’d given it to me. It about broke my heart now, and I’d already said yes to that second chance, maybe not in those exact words but…
The song ended, and I sniffed. My throat ached as I swallowed around the lump and then looked up at him.
“Yes,” I said before I could overthink it or he said anything else. He clicked the screen off on the phone and dropped it into his lap. “Yes, I’ll give you a second chance, if you give me one.”
He closed his eyes, and a whole body shudder rocked him. I didn’t know if he curled me up to him or if I tugged him down, but he kissed me. His lips were as warm and firm as I remembered, even if one corner of his mouth was still a little swollen.
When he winced, I started to pull away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Fuck that,” he whispered. “Hurt away.” Then he clamped his mouth down on mine far more firmly as he slid his battered fingers around my nape. I shifted and clung to him. It took some maneuvering, and we were both wincing.
“Ow,” I said as I managed to half straddle his lap. My Pop-Tart ended up somewhere. I’d find it later. He grimaced as he adjusted me, and my cast landed on his battered shoulder. “Sorry.”
Chuckling, he kissed the tip of my chin. “I’m not.” Then he kissed me again, slow and lingering. It was like our first kiss in the pool, without the sun and the damp but with the addition of the bruises and the cuts. Laughter swelled through