Connected (Connections, #1)(77)

Resting my forehead on his I ask, “Is your family really okay with me, with everything that happened?”

Cupping my cheeks, he nods. His face is now the epitome of seriousness and sadness combined. “The accident had absolutely nothing to do with you, Dahlia. Call it coincidence. Call it bad judgment. But, Bell getting in that car could've happened even if I was the one who said I would bring her home. She was determined to meet some guy at her place and she wasn’t waiting.”

His eyes flash to mine, filled with concern, as I continue to listen. “I left that night and went straight to her place. When I got there, no one was waiting for her.”

“No one,” I say, saddened that his sister left in hopes of meeting someone that obviously never showed up.

Shaking his head, he moves his hand to my head and pulls my elastic band out. “If your head hurts you don’t need this pulling on it,” he says tossing the band to the ground before continuing. “Who knows what happened to the frat boy, but he wasn’t there waiting for her. He never bothered to visit her and he never knew. After the accident she never mentioned him again.”

Tightening his jaw, he spits out, “And I’m glad she never did. I’d have killed him.” Hanging his head, he relaxes his jaw. “A guy planning to meet a chick at her place so late after going out with his buddies is just not cool. We didn’t even know everything until after.”

Unraveling myself from him I start to say something. “What do you mean by every . . .”

He puts his finger over my lips to shush me. “Never mind, it’s really none of my business anyway.”

Grabbing my chin he says, “All of that has nothing to do with us, but I’m still sorry I didn’t tell you. I don’t want this to impact us though. Got it?”

Nodding my head, feeling exhausted and emotional I say, “River, I understand and it’s okay, but I still have to go home. I can’t stay indefinitely.”

His gorgeous face looks so sad as he exhales deeply and says, “Whatever you want, but you look tired. Can we at least go tomorrow?”

Nodding my head because I’m exhausted, I hold him tight, inhaling his scent and loving his warm embrace. “Only if we can take a nap now.” Snuggling into his neck I add, “I love sleeping while it’s raining.”

He pulls back and kisses my nose. “Me too,” he says, and then he leads me back to his bedroom.





His room is somewhat dark when I open my eyes. The rain is still pounding outside, but snuggled into River’s chest, I’m calm and at peace. The sheet and a single blanket are tangled around us and he’s lightly rubbing his thumbs over the sliver of bare skin between my neck and shoulder. He’s awake before me for the second time today.

Lifting my head, I smile at the sight of his adorable face. He’s lying on the right side of me and I meld into his arms. The faint light filtering through an opening in the sheets that are still hanging on the glass doors is reflecting off his gleaming eyes, making them twinkle.

Grinning at me, he asks, “Feel better?”

I nod my head and lay it directly on his chest and answer, “Much.”

“Good,” he says, kissing the top of my head and wrapping his arms around me.

Having to use the bathroom, I slide my body down his shirt and jeans and get off the bed.

“Where you going?”

“Bathroom. Want water while I’m up?”

“Nope, I’m good, I just want you back here with me sleepy girl.”

Giggling as I leave the room, headed for the bathroom, I turn and ask, “What was that song you were playing earlier?”

“What song?” he says, watching me like I always watch him.

Turning completely around, stopping at the edge of the bathroom, I bite my lip and answer, “You know, the one you quickly stopped singing when I came in the room. The one I asked you about that you said you were working on.”

Sitting up and stretching, his glorious body now in full view he says, “It’s not that I stopped working on it when you came in the room.” Then standing up, he adds, “I just want to finish it before you hear it.”

“What if I want to hear it now?” I challenge as I quickly turn back around shutting the bathroom door.

“Well that would depend,” he says loudly enough that I can hear him through the walls. Then he adds, “I’ll get your water.”

When I open the bathroom door he’s standing there, water in one hand, guitar in the other. Lifting both items he hands me the water bottle.

I swish it back as he continues to block the door with his guitar in the air.

“Yes?”

“Let me stay with you a few days at your house, and I’ll play the song for you, even though it’s not finished,” he propositions, sliding his guitar back under his arm.

Taken aback by his question, I shakily ask, “You want to barter?” Loving the idea of spending more time together but not happy about bringing River to the house that Ben and I shared, I stare blankly at him.

“Yeah barter . . .” he starts to say, then stops. Pulling me close with his free hand he kisses me. “You know what? Never mind.”

Maybe sensing where my mind is, or maybe second-guessing his idea, he points to the head of the bed. “How about you sit up there, away from me, so I can concentrate? You’re too distracting,” he says as he kisses me again.