When you drove away from me and Mom, you said we weren’t enough

I remember the taillights most of all

If you were ever there on birthdays, it doesn’t matter now

If you ever sang me to sleep, I really can’t recall

It’s the taillights, from when you drove away

Her heart ached as she sang the song. As she poured everything of herself into the phrasing. Because when she’d written those words, she’d bled for them.

It was the very end that flipped it.

Someday, I hope you’re sitting in a crowded bar, and you look out the window

And you’ll see my taillights

In a car that’s way fancier than anything you could ever afford

And you’ll think of all those times

Of those missed birthdays, and when you should’ve said good night

Every time you see taillights, you’ll think of me.

And I won’t think of you at all

She stopped, and wiped a tear off of her cheek.

“You need to record that,” he said.

“I don’t have anything I’d...”

“No. Just like that. Just you and the guitar. Send that to your manager. And have them share that. It’s amazing, Tansey.”

“I don’t know about that...”

“No. It really is. You should do it while you’re here. We’ve got another week.”

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

She did that night, and uploaded the file for her manager to grab. It wasn’t professional, there weren’t other instruments, it wasn’t as good production-wise as the other song they had sent out, so she really didn’t expect anything to come of it. And it wasn’t what she was focused on right now anyway.

The next day they went to the local coffee shop, and as they walked down the street, he held her hand. And that was when she knew. It was when she really knew. That it was right. That she was ready. Because it wasn’t just kissing, or fraught moments in the cab of his truck. It was holding hands. On the street. For anyone to see, and yeah, neither of them lived here, and no one knew who they were, but it was the principle of the thing.

It was the gesture that was just about touching. Just about being linked. Not about anything else. And she loved it.

Because she loved him.

It terrified her to think that. It broke the rules to feel it.

And she was willing to throw every last bit of caution that she had held in her chest into that coastal wind, and let it fly out into the sea. Because the world could keep all that, as long as she could keep him.

They had dinner out on the deck like they had done every night, kissed by the fire, and then he excused himself to go to bed. And she sat there.

For one breath. Two. Three.

And then she went after him. She took a deep breath and opened the door to his room, crossed the space and got into bed beside him. He sat up, looking at her. And she curved her arm around his neck and leaned in, kissing him on the mouth.

“Tansey,” he said. “I am all about not pushing you to do anything. I am very committed to not pressuring you... Getting into my bed is maybe a bridge too far.”

“I’m actually here for sex, Ace,” she said, pressure and need building in her chest until she thought she might die of it.

“Well, that’s something,” he said.

She kissed him, his mouth that was so familiar now, but it was like falling. Knowing that it wasn’t going to stop here. Knowing that it was going to keep on. That every desire inside of her would be answered tonight. That he would be inside of her tonight. It made her shiver, shake. He was already wearing nothing but boxer shorts, and he drew her up against his body, taking her shirt and stripping it up over her head. He made quick work of her bra, and he had already touched her between her legs once, so she wasn’t really embarrassed.

And...why should she be?

They cared about each other. They had built to this. This wasn’t a one-night stand with a stranger; this man had sat and talked with her.

He knew her.

She couldn’t feel embarrassment in front of him. Not when he was...he was the one.

It made her feel jittery and strung out to even think such a thing, to believe in something she had told herself she didn’t. Except maybe the problem was, maybe the issue all along was that she had always imagined that she would be one and done. That when she felt comfortable enough with a man to be with him this way, it would be love.

And that losing it would be devastation.

Would be something she would never be able to recover from.

He moved his thumbs over her nipples, and she gasped, arching her back, pressing her bare breasts to his chest. Oh, his chest. And suddenly, a surge of excitement went through her, because she had been thinking about being naked in front of him, and processing whether or not she was going to be embarrassed. But she hadn’t thought about seeing him naked.

And that...

She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of his boxer shorts, and pulled them down. Throwing the covers back, and exposing his body to her gaze.

“Well, holy shit,” she said.

“That’s not exactly a song lyric,” he said, his voice gruff.

“You’re really hot,” she said.

“Glad you approve.”

She reached out tentatively, and wrapped her fingers around his thick arousal. He was glorious. Beautiful.

She squeezed him.