The Song Remains the Same (3 page)

Phil’s pupils dilated, and I smiled,
really
smiled, like I hadn’t done in over a week. It caught him by surprise, and his dimples punched into his hollow cheeks. Warmth built up between us, pulsing with our heartbeats.

He’s bringing me to life once more.

Of course he was. He was the only one who could. I could see it in him, too. He was swelling with the life force that had been bombed to hell a week and a half ago. We were reaching for each other, desperate to reconnect, to—

Panic suddenly flashed in Phil’s eyes, and the energy that had plumped up between us started to shrink.

No! Don’t do this!

I begged him silently not to pull back, but he slightly shook his head. We couldn’t talk about this here. We were at a funeral service for seventeen people, for the love of the gods.

The force with which I clutched his hand could possibly crack bone, an echo of the panic that had flashed in his eyes. He squeezed back, not half as hard.

An evil little voice snaked its way into my head.
He doesn’t want you anymore. You’re hideous. Have you seen yourself recently? Sure, he loves you, but who would want to kiss a face that’s scabbed up, busted, and sporting an eye that could turn a person to stone?

What if, even after I heal, he looks at me and still only sees this?

Phil hadn’t kissed me. He hadn’t touched me, other than to hold my hand or hold me when I needed a hug. He’d been treating me as a…
friend.

Oh. My. God.

A flash of horror seized my heart, and I found I could cry after all.

What if I lived through this fucking hell, only to have Phil turned off from ever wanting to touch me again? If that’s the case, I wish I’d never made it out alive. I’d rather be dead than live with the knowledge that Phil could stop being in love with me.

Closing my eyes, I willed myself into my suspended deep state, tranquility enveloping me.

“Are you here?”

“I’m always here, Baby Girl.”

“Do you still love me?”

“Always, always, always. You are my heart and soul, my reason for bein’. Don’t for a second think I could stop wantin’ to be a part of you. Shit’s messed up, is all. As long as we exist, I will always, always, always love you, body, heart, and soul.”

Don’t leave me.

“
Never
, Baby Girl.”

After the service, Gavin and I had to greet the families and loved ones of our lost comrades.

Exhausted, hurting, and deaf, we met their parents, siblings, husbands, wives, and children. It wasn’t easy. It was painful to be the only ones who’d made it out alive. Mothers and fathers had perished in that building, and there Gavin and I were, unmarried, with no family to support. I wondered if they blamed us for making it out.

Phil stood patiently beside me, his arm around my waist, lending me his strength. He shook their hands, gracious and empathetic.

Rachel threw herself into his arms and bawled her eyes out. Phil looked stunned, having never met the woman before. After a few minutes, he just wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back.

Gavin exchanged a look with me, and I shrugged. I wouldn’t mind a Phil-sized hug either, if I could get one. Maybe a tongue-tangling kiss, too, for good measure.

By the end of the service, I was fried. I wanted out of my black dress and high heels.

When we got home, Phil ordered pizzas. I changed into my sweatpants and NOLA’s Junk tank top. Snuggled in Phil’s lap, I pressed my lips to his neck and felt his pulse jump. His arms wrapped around me, and he held me tight.

Neither of us mentioned the spark that had leaped between us. I had the feeling that Phil didn’t even want to acknowledge it.

Phil

Fuck, that feels good. God, I don’t want it to end…

My own moan woke my ass up.

A soft, warm hand stroked my dick nice and slow, just how I liked it.

“Uhhhh…” I groaned, feeling it deep in my chest. I smelled apple shampoo, felt Baby Girl’s hair tickling my cheek.

Fuck, she knows
just
how to touch me.

Fuck! She’s fuckin’ touching me!

Her hand was down my boxers, stroking me like no one’s business. Fuck me running, I didn’t want her to stop. It was
hers
, damn it. She owned me, all of me. I’d been dyin’ to feel her, for her to heal up.

Before I lost my damn mind, I grabbed her hand and pulled her off me.

“Please,” she whispered. Turning her head on my shoulder, she pressed a kiss to my chest. “I miss you so much.”

“I miss you, too. More than you know.”

Raising her head, she met my eyes. It broke my heart, seeing the sense of rejection in them.

I ain’t rejectin’ you, Baby Girl. I’m not. It just ain’t fuckin’ fair.

“You don’t kiss me anymore.” She gasped, and tears pooled in her eyes, making my chest cave in. “You hardly touch me. I…am I
that
repulsive? Do I really look that bad?”

Oh, God…

I shook my head. “No. You’re more beautiful today than you ever were. How can you think that?” Letting go of her wrist, I curved my hand along the side of her face. I knew that, even though she hadn’t heard my words, she could read some of what I’d said.

“Then…what is it?”

“You’re not well,” I said slowly, looking her dead in the eyes.

“I’m well enough to give you a hand job,” she declared, all stubborn and shit.

“Yeah, but how is that fair to you?”

She shrugged. “Please, let me touch you.”

I kissed her between her eyebrows, holding her tight enough to let her know that I loved to hold her. “No, Kenna.”

I was gonna have to go home and take care of my aching dick now. Alone. I was dreaming of the day when I could let him go back home to her.

“Phil?” Kenna sounded so scared and lost as I got out of bed.

Doesn’t she realize how this is cutting me up?

I’d nearly lost her. She had come so close to getting herself killed. She needed time before we could do that shit.

Looking at her as I tugged on my pants, I shook my head again. “No, not yet.”

“Why can’t I touch you?” She sounded close to panic, and tears from her emerald eyes spilled over.

Getting on my knees next to the bed, I took her hands in mine, kissed her palms, and looked into her eyes. “Because it’s not right.”

Her face showed pain and shock.

Maybe those weren’t the right words.

“It’s not fair,” I amended.

“What?”

Looking around the room, I searched for the notepad and pen, finding it on the dresser.

It’s not okay with me for you to give me that when I can’t give it back.

“I want to though. I love touching you. It makes me feel good.”

Hearing that didn’t help. My dick twitched, wanting nothing more than to help my woman feel good about herself. She saw it, too, and looked up at me, all hopeful.

“It ain’t happenin’!” I snapped, feeling cornered.

Kenna’s eyes watered again, and her lower lip quivered before she could suck it into her mouth. I groaned, wishing she were sucking on something else.

Zipping up my pants wasn’t easy. Ready to bust a nut, I couldn’t get out of there quickly enough. The wounded look in her eyes was doing me in. I wasn’t handling this the right way, but I was scared she’d convince me that it would be okay when I knew it wasn’t.

Shit, I was gonna go fuckin’ crazy. I thought it’d be easy to just abstain for a little bit, but she was healing up so fast, looking more perfect each morning we woke up.

Yesterday, at the memorial service, she had looked up at me, and I had
felt
my Baby Girl peering into my soul. I’d wanted to kiss her with everything I fuckin’ had, and it had been damn near overwhelming. It had been so good, sensing her come back to herself, to me.

“Don’t leave,” she whimpered.

Shutting my eyes to the sight of her pain, I replied, “I have to.”

“No…”

Pulling on my shirt, I headed for the door. A sob caught in her chest, and I stormed out. I was halfway down the steps when I stopped.

That was my woman I’d just left, looking like the world had collapsed around her. She was thinking I didn’t find her beautiful, that I didn’t want her ’cause she was busted up. All she wanted was to touch me, to make
me
feel good, and I was bailing on her like she was a cheap one-nighter. Kenna didn’t deserve to be left like that.

Spinning around, I stormed back up the steps, busting into the room. I was before her in two strides, taking her precious face in my hands and kissing her with every ounce of love and devotion I had in me. I forced it past her lips, driving it into her lungs.

My Baby Girl tasted so fine, so sweet, smooth and buttery, cream and honey.
So fuckin’ good
. I fuckin’ ate her face, trying to let her know that the pull between us wasn’t dead in me.

“I fuckin’ love you, Kenna,” I harshly told her, pressing my forehead to hers. “I fuckin’ love you so much that I can’t even…the second the doctor gives us the okay, I’m fuckin’ tearin’ you up, I promise. But until then, you have to just fuckin’ suck it up and wait with me.”

Whatever she wanted, if I could give it, it would be hers. It was killing me, denying what was between us, but what she needed right now was my protection.

Even if I was protecting her from herself.

So, I went home. I whacked off. I worked out. I showered and whacked off again, thinking about how awesome her hand had felt on me.

Then, I jumped in the truck and drove my ass to the studio. Working with the Space Monkeys, I stayed away from my Baby Girl all fuckin’ day, not coming home until after dinner.

I found her in the backyard, sitting in lotus pose, serene and quiet. I was itching something fierce just to talk to her. I knew she’d understand if she could hear my words, my voice.

My voice was her most favorite thing in the world. She’d listened to it every day for the last eight years, letting it soothe her when she needed it, getting her amped up, making her feel sexy. How it did all that, I wasn’t too sure. I knew chicks dug the deep voice, but it was more than that for her.

Kenna stretched her hand out, palm up, and I took it. How she knew I was there when she couldn’t hear me…I guessed it wasn’t so weird. When she was scared or hurting or happy or whatever, I could feel it.

I
always
felt her.

A tickle above my heart that sent shit to my head made me hear tunes and notes that inspired music. She was happy when I heard violins or an acoustic guitar strum. Sadness sounded like piano. Maybe that was why I didn’t like playing one so much. Anger was furious drumming and screaming electrics. Depressed or fuckin’ orgasmic, it all just played in my head and let me know where she was in hers.

“I love you,” I whispered. It filled my chest and eyes and mind.

Moonlight illuminated her profile, showing me her calm, cool surface. Eyes closed, her features were still.