A slow chuckle comes from Griff, and then he’s pulling away. The look in his eyes tells Alabama he’s back in the present, back with her. “Are we okay?” His voice is husky with emotion.
She presses a kiss to his lips. “Better than.”
He grins, grabs her hand. “C’mon. Let’s pick a hammer and get the hell out of here.”
On the drive home, a Texas thunderstorm rolls in, drenching all of Alabama’s plans to swing a hammer and get to work. So she and Griff set to work putting away the groceries and hardware supplies.
After a simple dinner of tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, Alabama curls up on the couch, watching as Griff lights a fire in the crumbling fireplace. When the flames are strong and kicking, Griff disappears. He returns with his guitar and Alabama’s notebook.
He places it in her lap and seats himself beside her on the floral couch.
“Since we ain’t workin’ on the house, what do you say we finish that song we’ve been playin’?” he asks, his eyes on her.
Her insides warm, and she sees this is Griff’s way of showing her he’s still serious. About them, their tour and the music.
Dipping his head, Griff strums his guitar. His voice, gritty and brooding, rings out as he sings what they’ve written so far. Alabama listens, tapping out a beat on her notebook with her pen. Her ears pick up on the harmony, the pulse of the strings, the meaning lurking behind the lyrics.
You left me with the pieces of my heart in my hands
My tough-talkin’ cowboy, you rolled out of town with your band
All I had was your whisper, your Texas goodbye
Aw, baby, crazy in my mind, tears in my eye
I don’t reckon it’ll get better
Go back to the way it was back then
Because the cold hard truth is that
Baby, you broke my heart and never will I find you again ...
Then time passed and we were on the corner of Broadway
You caught my eye and you turned my way
Told me I was lookin’ good and it’s been so long
And then you bit your lip and said
Sweetheart, for years I’ve been so damn wrong
I want to reckon it could get better
Go back to the way it was back then
Because the cold hard truth is that
Baby, you broke my heart but maybe I could find you again ...
“The sound’s good,” she offers when Griff’s stops singing. “I like what you did with the chord change on that second half.”
He arcs a brow, knowing her. Knowing where she’s going with this. “But?”
She hesitates, her eyes on the last verse. “But the end still ain’t workin’.”
“That’s where you come in.”