In Your Dreams (Falling #4) (30 page)

I shake my head in tiny movements, because at this very moment, I have no idea. If I had this task to do all over again, I’m certain I’d fail.

“Why, Casey? You said you would make me go, and you did. You shut me out. You ignored my calls. You disappeared so I had no choice. You broke my heart,” she says as the cry that’s been building for a year escapes her throat. It’s harsh and ugly, and the tears come fast, and they cut me open. “Why did you make me go?”

“Because I love you,” I say. It comes out so simple and fast, but it makes everything so complicated. Telling her is greedy, and it’s why I never could. But I can’t lie to those eyes, and a year has only made the hole left behind larger. It’s impossible to fill with anything but her; I only hope the truth might make not having her bearable.

“I did it because I love you. Because I’m
in
love with you. And I want more for you, even if it means that I die a little inside giving you up,” I say to eyes that blink away tears. Her lips quiver and her body shakes, so I move my hands up her arms to her face, cupping cheeks that tremble in my touch.

“Because. I. Love you,” I exhale, my forehead falling against hers as our lips barely touch.

I hold her here like this, swimming in my confession, while her own mouth struggles to find courage to respond. I’m prepared for whatever it is. I’m ready for rejection, for the “it’s too late” and the “I’ve met someone else.” I’ve had those nightmares ever since the day I promised myself I’d let her go. I can survive them knowing I get to hear her voice where it belongs—on albums and in soundtracks—in the ears of girls who need someone like her to look up to. I can handle it all, because for once in my goddamned life, I did the right thing by someone. I have no regrets. Only wishes.

“I’m coming home,” she says.

I don’t react at all, because I’m not sure I heard her right.

“For you. For us,” she says, and I lean back to put distance between us so I can read her face and make sure I’m not dreaming.

“I lied,” she says, her eyes locked on mine. My stomach sinks before she lifts me up again. “About Lane’s birthday. There is no birthday. I made it up. I…” she twists to the side, revealing more of her car. I follow her gaze and see everything she owns piled in the back. My eyes are wide as they return to her. “I lied, Casey. I’m coming home, because I love you, too. I spent a year figuring it out, and I knew, deep down I always knew…I just needed to hear you say it. You made me take the leap, and I love you for it. But now that I have, I want more. I want you. And I can go to Nashville when I need to go to Nashville. I don’t have to live there. It isn’t where my heart is. It’s not where
home
is. Home,” she says, pressing both palms flat against my chest, her head falling to rest on them next. “Home is here with you.”

“Your record,” I ask in a half question.

“It’s done,” she says.

“And Noah…”

“Is fine with me being here. When he needs me there, when it’s time to work on something new, I’ll go back,” she says, peering up into me.

“And you…
love
me?” I ask, baiting her, just wanting to hear her say it again. I’m still in disbelief.

She smirks on one side and grants my wish.

“I love you. And I thought maybe…this new studio in town would be up for a few side projects, or maybe just jam sessions where we play nothing but Van Halen songs,” she says with a shake of her head. She smells so sweet and her hair is still like rows of silk between my fingers. I move as close as I can without completely folding into her and look down on her angel face, so happy and so bright in my messy world.

“I will celebrate half birthdays, plaster on those weird-ass nose strips, and rock out to hair bands with you every night if that’s what you’d like to do,” I say as she moves to the tips of her toes until her nose tickles against mine.

“I’d like that very much, Casey Coffield. I may even write a song about it,” she says against my lips, and my impatient mouth takes over, kissing her and pressing her body into the still-scratched car door that marks the first time she stole my heart more than a year ago. She’s never gotten it fixed, and I’ve never been the same.

Beautifully broken, but whole together, I take her hand in mine and walk her back into my bare-to-the-bones building of my dreams. It isn’t the one I thought I’d be in, but then again, I’m not the man I thought I’d be, either. And thank god for that, because that Casey wouldn’t have deserved Murphy Sullivan’s kisses. He just deserved her lyrics, and the journey she took him on to get here.

T
his book is
for the dreamers—the real-life Casey Coffields and Murphy Sullivans out there. Dreams come in many shapes and sizes, and the things in our way are just as varied. More than anything, that’s what drove me to write this story.

I get to live my dream. And that is something I owe to you. Thank you for reading my stories, for sharing your reviews and passing along recommendations to “try me out” to your friends. I’m nothing without your generous and vocal support, and I don’t want you to think for a minute that I take that for granted.

This book is for you.

I owe you many more.

I’m working on them now—I promise.

I have a few people that I need to give tremendous shouts out to in making this book come to life. First, and always first, Tim and Carter—my dudes. You put up with my late nights, laptops at baseball practice, and I won’t say lack of dinner on the table because we all know I don’t cook, but you feed me, and that does not go unnoticed! I love you two to the moon.

As always, Shelley, Ashley, Bianca and Jen—you are the Jedi Knights of beta reading. You let me leave you hanging, and say those things I so desperately need someone to say. Thank you so much for spending your nights and weekends with my sweet, selfish,
smackable
but adorable Casey. He’s better for it—and I know it!

Tina Scott and Billi Joy Carson—you are mega-warriors of words, and your editing and proofing is my foundation. Seriously—my entire building would collapse without you. You’re so vital and important.

Wordsmith Publicity—you ladies simply rock! Thank you for making my words echo, my promos live on, and my reach stretch for miles. I’m so grateful for what you do. And to every blogger, reviewer, podcaster and Goodreader out there—thank you for the spotlight. I know you have lots of writers you could spend your time on, so I’m incredibly humbled that you give it to me.

Now, about that cover. Smokin’, right? This one’s my favorite, and for lots of reasons—I love the vibe and I love the message. But more than anything, I love the team that helped me put it together. Michael Patrick Gleason—you are the hunk of hunky chins and smirks, and you embodied Casey Coffield in every sense of my imagination. Thank you, sir, for becoming
The Chin.
But you and I know the real master here: Frank Rodriguez of DLRfoto. I’ve known you since skateboards and pegged pants, and your talent has matured into a real art, my friend. This cover is special, and you’re the reason. Can’t wait to do this again. #TeamNeat

Also, because he was so unbelievably cool to me—Matt from Lids, you’re the man for letting me hang out and design Leap hats in your store. I think the final product was pretty tight, yo;-)

I hope you loved Casey and Murphy’s journey. I hope, as with all of the Falling books, you enjoyed the fall. If you did, please consider leaving a review, sharing your thoughts on this book with a friend, or any of the other little ways you can give us indie authors a boost. We notice, and we’re so grateful.

Until next time…

XO

Ginger

T
he Falling Series

This Is Falling

You And Everything After

The Girl I Was Before

In Your Dreams

The Waiting Series

Waiting on the Sidelines

Going Long

The Harper Boys

Wild Reckless

Wicked Restless

Standalones

Blindness

How We Deal With Gravity

G
inger Scott is
an Amazon-bestselling and Goodreads Choice Award-nominated author of 10 young and new adult romances, including Waiting on the Sidelines, Going Long, Blindness, How We Deal With Gravity, This Is Falling, You and Everything After, The Girl I Was Before, In Your Dreams, Wild Reckless and Wicked Restless.

A sucker for a good romance, Ginger’s other passion is sports, and she often blends the two in her stories. Ginger has been writing and editing for newspapers, magazines and blogs for more than 15 years. She has told the stories of Olympians, politicians, actors, scientists, cowboys, criminals and towns. For more on her and her work, visit her website at
http://www.littlemisswrite.com
.

When she's not writing, the odds are high that she's somewhere near a baseball diamond, either watching her son field pop flies like Bryce Harper or cheering on her favorite baseball team, the Arizona Diamondbacks. Ginger lives in Arizona and is married to her college sweetheart whom she met at ASU (fork 'em, Devils).

To stay up-to-date on new releases, promos and a whole lotta baseball—follow Ginger here:

• @TheGingerScott
  
• GingerScottAuthor