Following Me(92)

“It’s beautiful, Brennan,” she said, awestruck. She had been raised in a big house, but this was Brennan’s house. It felt different.

“Thanks. My dad really cared about the place. He took good care of it after my mom left. I guess I was in the fifth grade when that happened,” he said with a shrug. “The house was too big for just the two of us. I think he wanted more kids, but he loved my mom too much to remarry.”

“Is that why she thought he would leave her money?” she asked softly. She would have never asked that before, but now, she felt it was better just to get her questions out of the way.

Brennan faced her with a smile. “I think so. I’m glad he didn’t leave her anything though. She didn’t love him anymore. She didn’t deserve it.”

“No, probably not.” Devon wrapped her arms around his middle and held on to him tightly. “I’m so sorry about your dad.”

“Me, too, Belle.”

He kissed the top of her head, and he let her hold him until they both had their emotions back under control.

“Come on, I’ll give you a tour of the house, but first, I want to show you something.”

He took her hand in his and walked them down a long hallway. Devon peeked into an open door on the left and saw a kitchen that was bigger than Brennan’s apartment in the city. It had all dark cabinets, granite countertops, and stainless steel appliances. Devon gawked as she passed.

They entered into a sunroom framed with full-length glass windows. The entire room stretched out to the length of the house. It opened up onto an adjoining balcony that had wicker rocking chairs and a porch swing. The balcony had a set of stairs that led down to a covered rectangular pool. Beyond that was the entire expanse of Lake Michigan.

“Oh my God,” she gasped.

“Pretty nice view, right?” he asked.

“Pretty nice?” she stuttered, turning to face him.

He was already staring at her.

Brennan dropped his guitar case on the porch, and then he bent down and kissed her, crushing her to him. His lips were hot on her. She threw her hand around his neck with abandon. All her thoughts stilled, and there was only the two of them. She was lost to the rest of the world, and for once, that was the right way to be.

They kissed like that until Devon pulled away. Breathless, her chest rose and fell heavily, and when he smiled, her insides ignited.

Grasping her hand again, he picked his guitar case back up, directed her down the set of stairs, around the pool, and down a large set of stairs to the shoreline. She kicked off her sandals before she sank her feet into the dark sand.

“Thanks for coming with me.” He set his guitar case on the last step and then took a seat next to it.

Devon sat down on the step and stared out at the beautiful backdrop. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“I, uh…wanted to try something,” he said, “if you’ll humor me.”

He reached for his guitar case, unlatched the lock, and pulled the guitar out of the container. It was the same one he had played on the night of his open mic performance. He had another one that he usually played at home, but she liked this one better. He picked at the strings and adjusted them until they were in tune. She watched his hands strum the guitar with precision. She had never thought she would be interested in a musician. She tended to steer clear of them, but as with everything else, Brennan was different.

Brennan started humming the final song that he had played at the show, “Moving Forward.” She had heard it dozens of times over the last three weeks, and she knew all the words. Now, it made her heart happy rather than sad. He had known her pain even before she had allowed him in. That kind of chemistry and intuition astounded her.

He paused in the song, but he let his fingers continue to pick out the tune. “Will you do me a favor?

Devon nodded.

“Take the higher octave on the chorus?”

Devon stared at him. He wanted her to sing? She hadn’t let herself sing anywhere, except the car and the shower, in years. She wasn’t even sure if she still had a good voice. Music called to her but in lyric form only. She wasn’t an artist.

She shook her head. “No, Brennan, I don’t sing.”

He smiled like he didn’t believe her. “Humor me. No one else can hear you out here.”

Devon looked around the shoreline. He was right. No one else was outside right now. The house was empty, practically deserted, and only the lake was before her. Still, she could hear herself.

“What if I sound terrible?” she whispered.

“Then, I’ll make fun of you, and we can try again,” he said with a laugh.

She rolled her eyes at him before she turned back to face the lake. She breathed in and out, letting the air calm her nerves. Her eyes closed just as he picked up the chorus once more. His smooth voice filled her ears softly, like he was waiting for her to harmonize with him. She could sense that he was about to stop, so she dug up the courage to join him.

Her voice was shaky at first. She didn’t use it enough anymore. But she still sounded like herself, like she had when she used to sing for her parents, when they had told her she was going to be country music royalty one day. Brennan’s song fit her voice better. They blended together with the music. They each felt every painful memory encapsulated in the words and sang them back to each other with more emotion together than they ever had separately. It was peaceful and healing. When the song ended, Devon opened her eyes and smiled.