this often. Reflecting on when I got lost and praying I was finally found.
“Then what’s in there?” I asked, trying to stay in the present with her.
She shrugged. “My whole world.”
I narrowed my eyes, not understanding.
“You mean you didn’t snoop around my backpack when you found my bucket list?”
I grinned again. “Figured me out, yeah?”
She nodded.
“Damn, I thought I was bein’ all smooth.”
“You were at first.”
“What gave me away?”
“The Chevelle. That was way too precise for you to just guess.”
I gave her a curt nod. “Just so we’re clear, I wasn’t roamin’ around in your shit. Jamie needed your driver’s license to add you to our approval lists, and you were takin’ five fuckin’ years in the bathroom. Redesignin’ your clothes or some shit. The paper fell out of your wallet, so I kept it in mine instead.”
“Why?”
I pulled her on top of me, wrapping her legs around my waist. Sitting her on my lap, I rubbed my nose against hers and kissed her deeply.
“’Cuz your wish is my command.”
I wouldn’t stop until everything on her bucket list was checked off. Giving me positive tasks to focus on other than feeling like something was still missing in my life. I had everything I’d ever wanted now that she was here with me. I thought her presence would make the demons go away.
It didn’t.
Sober life only heightened the motherfuckers.
I wanted to make all her dreams come true, including being the man she deserved. Whether I deserved her was still up for discussion.
“That’s quite a list you got there,” I spoke the truth.
“I’ve been adding to it since I was a little girl. Do you have a bucket list?”
“You are my bucket list.”
She smirked, pursing her perfect pink lips. We were closer than ever, spending every waking second together. We hadn’t moved past kissing, knowing once I truly made her mine there would be no going back.
For me.
We were intimate in other ways that mattered more than sex. Journey was made for me.
End of story.
“Is that what you’ve always carried in your backpack?”
She nodded again, sucking in her bottom lip.
“A bunch of notebooks?”
“They’re more than just notebooks. They’re my journals. I’ve been writing in one since shortly after I learned how to spell my name. I carry them around with me everywhere I go.”
“Like I carry my guitar? It’s an extension of who you are.”
“I figured you’d understand.”
“You’ve always been smart, Junie. A lot fuckin’ smarter than me, that’s for damn sure.”
“You create music that speaks to people’s souls. Do you have any idea how incredible that is? Your music, your voice, your talent, heals people, Cash Motherfuckin’ McGraw.”
“Junie, don’t cuss.”
“I’m serious. You have the power to turn someone’s day around. Do you know how special that is? All those legends you introduced me to when I was a little girl, guess what? You’re one of them. Do you ever take a second to realize who you are and what you mean to your fans? A moment to really take in the fact you’re an idol for millions of people all over the world?” She paused, allowing her words to sink in. “The way you’ve always felt about your role models is the same way people feel about you. You understand that, right?”
“Darlin’, you’re bein’ so sweet, it’s makin’ my teeth ache.”
“No.” She adamantly shook her head. “Don’t do that. Don’t make a joke out of what I’m telling you. Why does it make you so uncomfortable to talk about this?”
“I don’t know.”
“How do you see yourself, McGraw?”
“Junie, I’m just a man wit’ a guitar. All I’ve ever wanted to do was play music. Regardless if it was for one person or millions. It makes no difference to me. I write songs ’cuz I’ll go crazy if I don’t. I play my guitar ’cuz it’s the only thing I know how to do.”
“Then why did you want to become a rock star?”
“To prove everyone wrong. The money, the success, don’t get me wrong—it’s a beautiful thing, but if I didn’t have this life, I’d still be playin’ music on the side of the road. It’s simply who I am.”
I slid her off my lap and leaned forward on my knees. Wanting to change the subject. She crouched on the floor in front of me, grabbing the sides of my face.
“Who you are is an escape for millions of people. You’re their Johnny Cash, babe.”
“What else you got in there?” I nodded to her bag, silently pleading with her to let this go.
“Is