I kiss her to stop her from talking and when I pull back, I let a chuckle roll out as I shake my head at my beautiful woman. “First, it’s Fred Grayfield.”
“Oh….”
“Second, that absolutely won’t happen.”
“How do you know?”
“Poor Fred died last year.”
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”
“I am, too. He was a good guy.”
“Reed?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Who is—or rather was—Fred Grayfield?”
“He was the chairman of the Academy of Country Music,” I tell her wondering why we’re lying in bed discussing Fred when I should be making love to my woman.
“Oh, yikes. Did you ever win another award?”
I laugh. “I’ve done okay.”
“That’s good. Reed?”
“Yeah?” I answer, my brow crinkling as I see the worry bleed through her expression. I don’t think I’ve done a good enough job of laying her fears to rest. I know my fuckups tonight have done more damage.
“Are you sure I’m worth the effort? I mean, all things considered I did relatively well tonight. I didn’t even have a major meltdown at the police station when they brought in those two drunks who decided they would work together to try and beat up the cops who arrested them.”
“Shit. I told you to go home.”
“I did fine. Besides they were nice to me. One even offered to program his number into my phone so I could call him.”
“Jesus, why are all the men always hitting on my woman.”
That startles a laugh out of her. “You’re crazy. Anyway, back to my point. My freak outs can get a lot worse than tonight’s did. What happens if I have a really bad one? This mild one got you arrested. What’s to say—”
“I got arrested because I was stupid enough to buy my woman a dress that goes see-through when wet.”
“Yeah, I really could have used some warning about that,” she complains.
“You and me both. It was my fault and those men talking about you needed to be taught a lesson. I volunteered and that again is on me.”
“My hero,” she murmurs.
“That’s me.”
“I’m serious. You’re my hero. You always have been. I don’t know why you keep insisting on coming to my rescue. I don’t deserve you,” she says, her face suddenly serious. I stare at her, drinking her beautiful face in and breathe easy for the first time tonight—and maybe since we left Macon. Tonight, was kind of a worse-case scenario night, and yet Callie is right here with me. She’s not running. She’s not pushing me away, and instead, she’s here, completely naked in my arms.
“Bluebird, you may not believe this, but your love saves me. When I was younger, it gave me a reason to believe that life could be better than the hand I was dealt—”
“Reed—”
“After the blackness that surrounded me with Chas, it gave me a purpose to keep going.”
“Maybe, if it hadn’t been for me, Mitch and Chas wouldn’t have targeted you at all, honey,” she says so quietly that I strain to hear her.
“That’s bullshit. Mitch loved to make my life hell way before you came to town, sweetheart. If it wasn’t you, it would have been someone else. Truthfully, it is probably my fault Mitch targeted you.”
“I would let him time and time again if it meant I could be in your arms and have your love, Reed.”
Callie and I have both been carrying the blame of everything on our shoulders for way too long. That needs to end tonight. I stretch over to the nightstand, open the drawer, and pull out the box I’ve been carrying around all night. This wasn’t how I planned it, but it feels like the perfect time. Callie shifts so she’s sitting up, her face scrunched up in confusion as she pulls the sheet up to hide her body. I turn to her fully, opening the box, and holding it out in front of me.
“I think it’s way past time that we stop thinking about the past. It’s dead and buried and we’re both giving it entirely too much power. From this moment on we need to concentrate on the future and how much we love one another.”
“Oh, my God,” she says, her voice shaking as I take the ring from the box.
“We’re meant to be together, Bluebird. I’ve known it since I was little more than a kid and laid eyes on you and now, all these years later, I know it even more. Will you marry me?” I take the ring and reach out for her hand. It shakes as she gives it to me, her eyes overly bright with unshed tears.
“How can you still want to marry me after all the chaos I’ve created in your life tonight, Reed?” she asks.
“How could I not want to marry Nashville’s most mysterious girl with the best rack?” I joke, repeating what some reporter laughed about on the entertainment news Callie watched before we came to bed.