The jangle of his metal belt buckle falling open barely registered as he stripped away her clothes. It had been this way since they were fifteen. Hot, explosive, and necessary. Every time. No matter where they were.
Nash was a part of her, and she belonged solely to him. He was her husband, her best friend, and the other half of her soul.
He pressed her back into the stairs, and while she knew there would be bruises in the morning, the consequences meant nothing as he filled her. Her knees clung to his hips, her fingers scraping up his back. Had they even closed the front door? The cool draft teasing her heated skin warned they had not.
Breathy sighs caught in a tangle as their moans broke the silence. Peeking past his shoulder, she stared at the open door and across the black plains. The sky lay like a blanket of stars over all of it. Everything they knew and all that they were, existed in this place in time. Their imperfections, their secondhand furniture, their brightly painted walls, their burned-out lightbulbs, none of it mattered as long as they had each other.
“God, Maggie…” He breathed against her ear. “I could have you like this for an entire lifetime, and it still wouldn’t be enough.” He thrust hard, taking her passionately and filling her soul as much as he filled her body.
“I love you, Nash.”
His mouth devoured hers, stealing her view of the night sky and overwhelming her soul with a mind melting kiss. “You’re mine, Maggie. Only mine.”
“Only yours.”
“Forever.”
She nodded, having made the promise a thousand times before. “And ever.”
Chapter 1
Two Years Later
Snow packed against the wet mud, dampening Maggie’s jeans as she kneeled. Her hands cradled the thermos of coffee, stealing warmth from the metal and drawing her shoulders in against the cold March wind.
“I finally paid the water bill.” Her gloved finger brushed the numb tip of her nose as she sniffed. The air still held the metallic scent of snow, and she worried there would be more before the end of winter. “Tom came by to fix the hose bib. He said I should leave it dripping so it doesn’t freeze and burst again. That little trickle sure hikes up the bill, but it’s better than having to repair a busted pipe in the dead of winter.”
She always allowed time for a reply that never came.
“The dryer finally broke. I got one of those folding rack things. I need to go to McGinty’s and pick out a new one, but I don’t want to inconvenience anyone. Can’t carry a dryer home, so I’ll need someone with a truck to help me drive it back. Unless they deliver. I should call.”
She sipped her coffee, letting it warm her chest. “I can’t wait until this weather breaks and I can hang things on the line. I think there are hooks out back. I’ll need something to reach them.”
Her mind immediately went to the shed where Nash’s ladder stood, tipped against the wall, his work gloves still sitting exactly where he left them. She didn’t have the heart to disturb them. Her step stool from the broom closet would probably reach.
Did McGinty’s sell clothesline? She should stop at the hardware store in town first. She pictured herself buying the rope, and imagined Mr. Montgomery giving her a sympathetic smile as he placed the rope in a brown paper bag. He’d offer to send the stock boy over to help, and she’d politely turn him down. Then she’d go home and cry.
The simplest thoughts could sometimes overwhelm her. Thinking too many steps ahead, often caused her eyes to prickle with tears.
“Maybe I’ll just keep using the rack.”
Her head dropped, her gaze falling to a patch of matted down grass where the snow had melted. She should plant flowers as soon as the ground thawed.
Her throat tightened as she considered which flowers he’d like best. A wall of tears blurred her vision, and she blinked, brushing away a salty drop as it cascaded down her wind-chilled cheek. She sat up a little straighter and sipped the coffee.
“I know I promised not to cry as much, but it’s March. This month is always a little harder than the others. It’s been two years, Nash. How did that happen? Where did the time go?”
Her gloved fingers swept over the patch of exposed earth. Blades of grass clumped in stiff tufts, frozen in time by frost and snow.
“I wish I went with you.”
She sniffled, her tears gathering again as she stared out over the cemetery. Several O’Malley tombstones surrounded the area, but his was the only one carved into a guitar. Her hand trembled as she traced the engraved shape of his name.
“I miss you.”
She would give anything to hear him say it back. To hear his laughter or the sound of his voice. Their home had always been such a musical place, filled with his many instruments.