The Redemption(37)

His arms fall away as he leans back, closing his eyes. When he opens them, he grins, it’s lazy and beautiful. Bringing me closer, he kisses me just like the first kiss tonight—deep and sensual, passionate just like the man.

“Sorry about the hot tub,” I tease.

“Don’t be. It was hot,” he puns.

“The orgasm or the water?”

“Both.”

“I agree.” Feeling very comfortable here.





My body is relaxed and my eyes heavy as he walks me to my car. “Do you want me to drop you off so you can get your car?”

“No, I’ll get it tomorrow.”

His hips press into mine, my car solid behind my back. I say, “This was a good night.”

“A very good night,” he replies, kissing my neck. “When do we get to do it again?”

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

“Not soon enough.”





If Dex didn’t already have a piece of my heart, he has it all now. Watching him teach Neil how to play drums is beyond endearing and makes my heart clench. I’ve not seen Neil’s attention on one thing last this long in a while. I can tell he likes Dex and Dex’s patience is admirable. I hear Dex say, “Let’s try it one more time on this drum. What’s it called?”

“Ummmm…the tom-tom?” Neil answers.

“Right. Good job.”

CJ runs in, alerting them to our presence. Dex looks up and winks at me, then asks, “You wanna join us? I have an acoustic guitar over here.”

“Maybe.” I’m still unsure, but being here in his music room makes me want to play… just a little bit.

CJ slips under the drum set and is pounding the bass with his hand until Dex grabs him and tickles him before placing my little whirlwind of energy beside him. He hands him a stick and says, “Hit the middle, not the rim. Okay, CJ?”

CJ bangs once and hits the rim, then asks, “The shiny part is the rim?”

“Yep. Don’t hit that part.”

I walk behind them, letting my fingers drag over Dex’s shoulders as I pass. Picking up the guitar, I strum once, then start tuning it until I’m satisfied. Lots of banging on the drums distracts the boys, but I see Dex sneaking peeks at me while a small, knowing smile crosses his face. His lure worked and I took the guitar bait, too tempted being here in the easiness of his music room to resist. Sitting down on the edge of a recliner, I stroke the neck of the guitar, sliding my fingers up the slick wood and back down again. I position my fingers and start strumming again, but this time a melody I know by heart, my own song that I’ve been working on in my head and writing down on my laptop.

When I look up, my gaze meets Dex’s and I don’t stop, fighting the feeling to hide the music away. The notes come to me by memory, easy in their flow, the music dancing in my head, leading my hands. Then I stop. This is the part where I always stop, my head getting in the way of my heart. It’s too heavy.

“You okay?” Dex asks, his furrowed brow showing his concern.

My breaths quicken as I struggle to control my emotions. Trying to halt the panic, I close my eyes and forcefully slow my breathing. I block out the fact that I know Dex is watching me freak out and try to concentrate on regulating each breath instead. When I reopen my eyes, Dex is kneeling before me. His hand covers my knee, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m okay.”

He nods, then stands up. “C’mon guys, let’s go get cookies in the kitchen.” Drumsticks are dropped with a careless clang and both boys race for the kitchen. Dex says, “I’ll give you a few minutes.”

As soon as he’s gone, I take a deep breath and then another. Standing up, I pick up the drumsticks so it’s not messy in here, having a strong desire to busy myself. I place the guitar back on the stand and turn out the lights. When I return to the living room, I see them outside, the boys running in the large grassy area to the left of the pool. Dex is sitting under the patio, two juiceboxes and two glasses on the table next to him.

I walk out the open door and laugh, “You have juiceboxes?”

As I sit across the table from him, he turns to me, his sunglasses covering his eyes. “I stocked up on kid essentials. I have popsicles too.”

His sweet gesture sweeps me up in the moment and I smile. “Thank you.”

“No thanks needed.” We turn our attention to watching the kids, but he asks, “How long have you been getting panic attacks?”

“I’m not sure you want to hear about it.”

“If I’m asking, I want to hear about it.”

“I had my first when I went into labor with CJ.”

His attention is now fully on me. Turning in his chair, he rests his elbows on the table. “Do you know what brought it on?”

“Hindsight says I do…”

He lifts his sunglasses to the top of his head and looks at me, really looks at me. “You know, I was thinking about Cory. I know I’ve said it before, but I feel I need to say it again.” He glances away briefly then back to me. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry he died. I think about him all the time. I hear him when I play. It’s still hard for me to talk about him, but he was a great man, Rochelle.” I feel the tears welling up in the corners of my eyes, so I look away. After a calming breath, I feel strong enough to look back at him. When I do, he adds, “He was lucky to have you.”