In Your Dreams (Falling #4)(103)
“Casey,” she whimpers, and my lips fall to the back of her head as I breathe her in with closed eyes. I’ve missed her so much. I can’t do this. I can’t, because I’m selfish. I need her.
“Don’t go,” I say before I know any better, and I squeeze my eyes closed hard, hating that I will have to take this all back. And I will, because that’s what’s right, but I still have to say it. I have to, because I mean it. It’s the only real truth there is, and I can’t not let her hear how much I struggle when we’re apart.
“Why,” she says, turning slowly in my arms. Her hands find the center of my chest, and her eyes square on the small diamond shape on my shirt as if it’s a shield for my heart. Her fingers grasp at the fabric as she slowly looks up at me, honest eyes that have missed me too. “Why did you make me go?”
I shake my head in tiny movements, because at this very moment, I have no idea. If I had this task to do all over again, I’m certain I’d fail.
“Why, Casey? You said you would make me go, and you did. You shut me out. You ignored my calls. You disappeared so I had no choice. You broke my heart,” she says as the cry that’s been building for a year escapes her throat. It’s harsh and ugly, and the tears come fast, and they cut me open. “Why did you make me go?”
“Because I love you,” I say. It comes out so simple and fast, but it makes everything so complicated. Telling her is greedy, and it’s why I never could. But I can’t lie to those eyes, and a year has only made the hole left behind larger. It’s impossible to fill with anything but her; I only hope the truth might make not having her bearable.
“I did it because I love you. Because I’m in love with you. And I want more for you, even if it means that I die a little inside giving you up,” I say to eyes that blink away tears. Her lips quiver and her body shakes, so I move my hands up her arms to her face, cupping cheeks that tremble in my touch.
“Because. I. Love you,” I exhale, my forehead falling against hers as our lips barely touch.
I hold her here like this, swimming in my confession, while her own mouth struggles to find courage to respond. I’m prepared for whatever it is. I’m ready for rejection, for the “it’s too late” and the “I’ve met someone else.” I’ve had those nightmares ever since the day I promised myself I’d let her go. I can survive them knowing I get to hear her voice where it belongs—on albums and in soundtracks—in the ears of girls who need someone like her to look up to. I can handle it all, because for once in my goddamned life, I did the right thing by someone. I have no regrets. Only wishes.
“I’m coming home,” she says.
I don’t react at all, because I’m not sure I heard her right.
“For you. For us,” she says, and I lean back to put distance between us so I can read her face and make sure I’m not dreaming.
“I lied,” she says, her eyes locked on mine. My stomach sinks before she lifts me up again. “About Lane’s birthday. There is no birthday. I made it up. I…” she twists to the side, revealing more of her car. I follow her gaze and see everything she owns piled in the back. My eyes are wide as they return to her. “I lied, Casey. I’m coming home, because I love you, too. I spent a year figuring it out, and I knew, deep down I always knew…I just needed to hear you say it. You made me take the leap, and I love you for it. But now that I have, I want more. I want you. And I can go to Nashville when I need to go to Nashville. I don’t have to live there. It isn’t where my heart is. It’s not where home is. Home,” she says, pressing both palms flat against my chest, her head falling to rest on them next. “Home is here with you.”
“Your record,” I ask in a half question.
“It’s done,” she says.
“And Noah…”
“Is fine with me being here. When he needs me there, when it’s time to work on something new, I’ll go back,” she says, peering up into me.
“And you…love me?” I ask, baiting her, just wanting to hear her say it again. I’m still in disbelief.
She smirks on one side and grants my wish.
“I love you. And I thought maybe…this new studio in town would be up for a few side projects, or maybe just jam sessions where we play nothing but Van Halen songs,” she says with a shake of her head. She smells so sweet and her hair is still like rows of silk between my fingers. I move as close as I can without completely folding into her and look down on her angel face, so happy and so bright in my messy world.
“I will celebrate half birthdays, plaster on those weird-ass nose strips, and rock out to hair bands with you every night if that’s what you’d like to do,” I say as she moves to the tips of her toes until her nose tickles against mine.
“I’d like that very much, Casey Coffield. I may even write a song about it,” she says against my lips, and my impatient mouth takes over, kissing her and pressing her body into the still-scratched car door that marks the first time she stole my heart more than a year ago. She’s never gotten it fixed, and I’ve never been the same.
Beautifully broken, but whole together, I take her hand in mine and walk her back into my bare-to-the-bones building of my dreams. It isn’t the one I thought I’d be in, but then again, I’m not the man I thought I’d be, either. And thank god for that, because that Casey wouldn’t have deserved Murphy Sullivan’s kisses. He just deserved her lyrics, and the journey she took him on to get here.