I clenched my eyes closed at those words. “The stuff you say, Conor. Christ. How can I… I can’t say it back, not because I don’t feel it, but because it’s not something I’d imagine saying.”
“You think it comes easy to me? You think I routinely go around squawking out lines that, what did you say earlier, belong in a Valentine’s Day card? You have to open the door to it, Star, and I did that a long time ago with you.”
“I-I’ll try,” I promised.
“That’s all you can do, and that will always be enough. And, some days, if you can’t find the words, then that’s what songs are for.”
Some of the tension abated in me.
Songs.
I could do that.
Music had always been integral to my life because of my dad, and it was fitting that Conor’s love language could be found therein too but he had more tunnel vision than Dad who used to listen to everything, not just rock.
It was ridiculous then, that as I cuddled up to him, my hand still stroking over his hair, I started to hum the melody to “God Only Knows.”
As he relaxed into me, gracing me with the priceless gift of consent, I had no idea why but I started to sing the lyrics.
If Dead To Me heard this, I’d never live it down, but what did it matter? He was important to me. He deserved to know I was as all in as he.
Tears burned my eyes as the meaning behind the lyrics hit home, somehow making more sense to me now that I’d experienced them on a personal level. He had to hear the emotion in my voice, but I didn’t care and I didn’t think he did either. Maybe that made it better. Stronger. He couldfeelwhat I could only say through lyrics someone else had written because they’d felt this way too.
Love—the great connector.
When I finished, he was still and I was almost embarrassed by my stupid singing, then he whispered, “You got your dad’s voice,” and he sank into me totally.
It took me a moment to realize that he was asleep, our legs and arms tangled together, his face pressed against my shoulder, my fingers still in his hair.
And it was perfect.
Nirvana.
Enough that I closed my eyes and allowed myself to rest too.
48
CONOR
It wasthe knock on the door that woke me. I stirred, clambering off the bed to unlock it and peer at an amused Cin.
“Two hours until we land.”
I scowled. “Couldn’t you have woken us twenty minutes before?”
She shrugged. “We gotta talk strategy and she can’t do that without hot chocolate.”
My mouth rounded. “What?”
“Which part didn’t you understand?”
“The hot chocolate part.”
“She should have it instead of coffee.”
“Why?”
“Because coffee makes her aggressive and hot chocolate puts her in a better mood.” She tapped her nose. “My top tip is to always order for her because she never remembers.”