Draw (Gentry Boys #1)(64)

Millie smiled sweetly and brought it to him. “Play something? Please? Music heals the soul you know.”

I waited, figuring Creed would grunt some noncommittal response and go back to his video game. But surprisingly he stared into Millie’s sweet face for a moment and then took the guitar, nodding slowly.

As Creed carefully tuned the instrument, Millie dragged Brayden over to the couch and then waved me over. I settled next to them on the arm and watched Creed as he finished tuning. He cleared his throat.

“Not used to playing for an audience,” he grumbled.

“We’re not an audience,” I told him, “we’re just us.”

Creed stared at the three of us for a second and then bowed his head as the guitar came alive in his hands. I thought the opening bars sounded vaguely familiar. And when Creed began singing I was immediately caught by the deep, soulful resonance of his voice. Everything about him changed when he sang. The hard lines of his posture softened and his face relaxed. All the emotion contained by his stoic exterior came through in his singing. At the moment I could not think of another voice on the radio which could top Creed Gentry’s. When he got to the chorus I realized the song was very familiar. My father was a vintage record hoarder with special affection for albums of the late sixties, early seventies. Creed was singing a hauntingly beautiful song I remembered well.

When he came to a stop he looked at us bashfully. Bray and Millie broke into loud applause and I smiled at him.

“No wonder why you complained about my singing,” I laughed. Creed shrugged, setting the guitar down.

“Man, you’re good,” Brayden gushed. “You ever think about trying to get some gigs at the clubs in town? They’re always on the lookout for talent.”

Creed shook his head. “Nah. Can’t picture myself playing for a bunch of drunk bastards and party girls.”

“’Danny’s Song’,” I said, remembering the name.

Creed nodded, looking surprised. “That’s right. I have a tendency to gravitate towards the oldies. Don’t know why.”

“Kenny Loggins wrote it for his brother, you know. Danny is his brother’s name.”

“No,” murmured Creed, “I didn’t know that.” He was looking troubled again, likely thinking of his own brother lying in a hospital bed several miles away, perhaps wishing he could write a song which would make a small difference.

“What’s that say?” Millie asked, pointing. “Your tattoo.”

Creed glanced down. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone and a few letters of black script were visible on his chest, the same place as Cord’s tattoo. Creed loosened a few more buttons so we could see the Latin words.

Millie stepped forward and read the words. “Concedo nulli.”

“’Yield to no one’,” Brayden translated and Creed nodded.

“Damn right.”

Millie and Bray chatted with Creed a little while longer before heading home. I walked them to the door and hugged them both, grateful for the warmth of family.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Brayden promised, squeezing my elbow on the way out before wrapping an arm firmly around Millie and heading into the twilight.

Creed hadn’t returned to his game. He was sitting with his head lowered, deep in thought.

“You want to watch a movie or something?” I offered.

He shook his head. “Not especially.”

I paused, waiting to see if he would say anything else. Creed wasn’t a talker though. He chose his few words carefully then moved on.

“Well,” I finally said, “think I’ll go hang out in Cord’s room until he gets home.”

Creed didn’t answer so I shrugged and began walking down the hall.

“Saylor?”

I turned around to find him staring after me.

“You’re all right,” he said. “Really. This thing between you and Cord, I’m glad for you guys.”

I blushed, pleased. I figured that was likely the closest Creedence Gentry came to an endorsement.

Creed rose and went to the back patio, perhaps to use the set of weights the boys kept out there. I retreated to Cord’s room.

The first thing I saw when I turned on the light was the computer, still in its box. I’d forgotten about it. As I sat on the edge of the bed and withdrew it from the packaging I was overcome once again by the level of sweet caring which led Cord to make the purchase.

I hadn’t really written much of anything since returning to Arizona. Every few days I would sit in front of Millie’s blank laptop screen and tap out a few lackluster sentences of the story I began to think would never be finished. I had told Cord I didn’t know how it ended because I didn’t know how to write about love.

But as I set up the computer I thought about Cord; the crashing passion as his body invaded mine, his cool humor, his tender eagerness to please me. The hot rush which coursed through me wasn’t just lust. I missed him. Suddenly I couldn’t wait to start typing and breathe words into the complex nature of the heart.

“When I looked at him I saw a man. I saw something else, too. He was wild and fierce. The fears my people had long whispered might have been justified. But he’d saved me more than once and the refuge I found in his arms was incomparable. I’d struggled to suppress the rising tide of emotion but he wouldn’t allow it. We were born on opposite sides of an invisible line and had been told our kind would never find peace with one another. But when he touched me none of that mattered. This was a battle which could have no winners. The best outcome was a draw. And in the end there was only us.”