Beard Necessities (Winston Brothers, #7)(33)

“You heard his voice? What? Talking to someone?”

“Singing.”

“Singing? I didn’t know he could sing.”

“Didn’t you?” My eyes moved over Sienna. I couldn’t see her well. Lit only by a single lamp in the corner, the nursery was dim, decorated in soft greens and quiet blues, giving it an aura of coziness and intimacy. “He can sing, and he has the most amazing voice. I would’ve recognized it anywhere.”

He’d been on my mind that night even before I heard his voice. Well, he’d always been on my mind, but it had been more than usual. Thoughts of him were front and center. It was at the engagement party I’d discovered Samantha Cooper and Billy Winston had never married.

“I excused myself from Ben and his friends and walked to the bluegrass room—that’s where Billy’s voice was coming from—and stood at the door, watching him sing.”

“Huh. That was the first time you saw him? Since leaving Green Valley at fourteen?”

I nodded, seeing Billy’s face as clearly now as it was then, his bright eyes on his brother Cletus who’d been playing the banjo next to him. Billy’s tenor had been rich, deep, and strong, and it seemed to reach the buried parts of me, grabbing on with hooks.

And he’d looked so different yet so much the same, older, his features more mature, and so incredibly handsome—brutally handsome—his beard no longer fuzzy and patchy, but dark and thick and neatly shaped.

“He’d found someone to trim his beard,” I said unthinkingly.

“What’s that?” Sienna leaned toward me, breaking the spell cast by the memory. “His beard what?”

“Oh, nothing.” I felt oddly at ease. Maybe it was the sleeping baby, maybe it was the lighting and the quiet, maybe it was the stillness of midnight, but for some reason I felt completely relaxed. “Anyway, that was the first time I saw him since leaving town three—or four, I guess three and a half—years prior.”

“And he saw you?”

“He did.” My stomach gave a gentle flutter. “He saw me.”

“And?”

“Well, they’d just finished a set, and people were clapping, and so he looked up and our eyes met and he . . .” That night my words had caught in my throat, my stomach and heart had pitched a riot. But now, remembering, it was like the events had happened to someone else.

“What? What did he do?” Sienna seemed to be sitting on the edge of her seat. “Tell me.”

I exhaled a chuckle. “Short story, he chased me out of the room, pulled me backstage behind the cafeteria curtain, and kissed the hell outta me.”

“Holy shit!”

“Yeah, well, that’s what I thought. I was so stunned.”

“Then what happened?”

“Uh, again, short story, we talked just a little, I immediately told him I was there with Ben, but I lied and said Ben and I were engaged, just like we’d told everyone else. Billy wasn’t very happy and he kinda stormed off. I tried to see him a few times after, so we could talk. We’d been, uh, very close before I ran away, but he refused to see me.”

“You didn’t see him at all?”

“No, I saw him.” A subtle warmth ignited behind my sternum, that persistent ache. I rubbed the spot. “We’d run into each other at various events, one time at the store when I was out with Mrs. McClure, one time at Daisy’s Nut House when I was there with Ben, but he never talked to me.”

“Silent treatment, eh?”

I chuckled again, but knew it sounded sad. “I just—I just wanted him to talk to me, you know? I missed him—so much, for so long—and I wanted to talk to him, but he wouldn’t even look at me.”

“He’s an asshole. We hates him, nasty hobitses.”

“No.” I laughed at Sienna’s Gollum impression, relieved to have something to laugh about. “He was hurt on account of me being engaged to someone else. I understood why he was upset.”

“But if he’d just talked to you, then maybe—” Sienna huffed unhappily. “He’s so stubborn. I see it with Jethro and him all the time, drives me crazy. I’ve never seen anyone hold a grudge like Billy Winston.”

I sent her a small smile. “Their story is a messy one. Billy—”

“Oh, I know. Jethro messed up, God how I know it. But people change, right? They try and work and struggle to make amends.”

“And Jethro has,” I assured her. “He’s a different person now, but you know what? He’s also the same. Jethro was always sweet, even when he was making bad choices.”

Sienna grinned, wagging her eyebrows. “Don’t spoil my fantasy of my husband. Just between the two of us, a part of me loves that he’s a reformed bad boy.”

“And so he is.”

Baby Liam made a little sound, stretching on Sienna’s shoulder. She glanced at him, shifting him to her other side, rocking and patting his bottom.

Once he was settled again, she whispered, “Okay, so, what happened? When did he finally talk to you?”

“Uh, in late September I think, over a year later. We were at the jam session at the same time again and we sang together, in front of folks, Cletus on banjo.”

“Cletus and his magic banjo.” Sienna’s lips twisted to the side thoughtfully.