Beard Necessities (Winston Brothers, #7)(98)

If any residual anger had remained, it completely vanished at the sight of her slumped shoulders and the sound of agony in her voice.

Crossing to her in three steps, I pulled her against me and into my arms, reassured by the contact and feel of her. “What can I do?”

Scarlet tucked herself under my chin, her arms tight around my torso, and gathered a deep inhale, as though she could pull me inside her body by breathing me in. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not. I was angry, mostly with Cletus. But I’m not now.”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t think of another way. I couldn’t lose you again.” Her voice sounded watery.

I slipped a finger under her chin, lifting it to place a gentle kiss on her lips before speaking against them. “Next time talk to me. Please. Give us a chance to figure it out together.”

“Okay. Okay. I will. I swear it, cross my heart.” She stole another kiss, her eyes wide and glassy. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

I felt my mouth hitch on one side. “I’ve learned my lesson too.”

“You have?” Her voice cracked, her head shifting back an inch. “Lesson about what?”

Fighting a smile at the irony, I quoted my brother, “‘Sometimes the only way to win is to surrender.’”

A puff of a laugh escaped her chest and I felt myself unwind as her smile grew. “Is that one of your momma’s sayings?”

“No. But I suppose it’s now a family saying,” I responded dryly as I searched her eyes. She still looked unsettled, frantic, and my stomach twisted afresh at the thought of her facing her father. “Scarlet. What can I do? You are safe, with or without me. No matter what you decide for your future, he will never touch you. I swear. Believe me.”

Her chin wobbled and she pressed her lips together, tears gathering in her eyes. “Oh, it wasn’t so bad,” she whispered, the crack in her composure widening with her lie.

The look in her eyes, the terror she’d so obviously felt when confronting her father, reminded me of a fourteen-year-old Scarlet. It also brought to mind a sixteen-year-old me, frustrated with my helplessness.

Sniffling, she forced her lips into a smile. “You know what? That’s a lie. It was terrible, and I hated it.” Now she laughed, like she found herself ridiculous. “And you know the worst part? I’d forgotten how lonely it is, to be scared like that.”

“You’re not alone,” I said fiercely, cupping her cheek, wiping away a wayward tear and memorizing the velvet feel of her skin.

“You’re not alone either.” Her tone was also fierce, and her self-deprecating smile fell away. “I’m here.” She punctuated these words by giving me a gentle shake, her eyes fastened to mine. “I’m right here. Your burdens are mine, so are your hopes and dreams. I want it all. I want to share everything with you. Please. Trust me to be strong.”

“I trust you.” I smoothed a hand down her back, pressing her closer, my eyes drifting to her lips. “I love you.”

“I love you.” When she smiled this time, it was small, but it was also serene.

I took a moment to gaze upon her, my beloved, before asking quietly, “What can I do to help you get ready?”

“Ready? For what?”

“For the concert.”

She stiffened. “Oh my goodness. I’d—I totally forgot.” Loosening her arms, she moved to step away. With great reluctance, I let her go. For now.

We have plenty of time. No need to rush.

“My hair is done. My makeup person should be here soon.” She glanced around the room, spinning in a half circle. “I need to warm up.”

“I can help with that.” Spotting a few guitars in the corner, I walked over, selected the Martin D-45, and admired it on my way to the couch. “This is a nice guitar.”

“You like it?”

I nodded, strumming a few chords. “Good sound.”

Standing in front of me, watching me play for a half minute, she set her hands on her hips. “Is it weird that I’m a little jealous?”

“Jealous?”

“Yes.”

“Of what?”

She gestured to the instrument, taking the seat next to me. “Your hands are all over that thing and it gets to sit in your lap.”

That made me chuckle, and I glanced at her out of the corner of my eyes. “If you want to warm up on my lap, I’m more than willing.”

And that made her laugh, but it also made her blush.

Playing the intro to the first single on her last album, a song entitled, “When Winter Sings,” I leaned closer, brushing my arm against hers. “What do you want me to play? For the warm-up.”

Her attention moved between my hands and my eyes, hers growing thoughtful. “Hey, so, I have a question,” she said suddenly, making me think she didn’t want to warm up quite yet. “How did you get here so fast?”

“You know how Sienna has that plane?”

“You took her plane?”

“I did.” I switched to “Free Fallin’.” “And, Sienna apparently has the ability to secure backstage passes and unlimited access to any concert event in the world. Which is how I got in your dressing room.”

For the record, I did not like the implications of this at all. At some point, Scarlet and I would have to talk about tightening her security.