“No.” I coughed. “Sorry.”
Her hands returned. I fought the urge to close my eyes.
Her hands paused.
“Something wrong?”
“No.” She sounded like she was thinking. “It’s just… your hair’s really light right here.”
Damn it. I played dumb. “Oh yeah? Weird.”
“Gabe…”
“What?”
“Your hair’s almost blond.”
“Maybe it just looks that way because the dye’s so dark.”
“But—”
“Saylor.”
“What?
“I missed you.”
I felt like an ass for distracting her like that, but at least what I was saying was true. It wasn’t like I was lying.
She started rubbing the dye in again and sighed. “I missed you too.”
A smile spread across my features before I could stop it.
“And you’re a jackass for using something like that to distract me from the fact that you’re a natural blond and for some reason don’t want to talk about it.”
“Sandy blond,” I grumbled. “And it’s the truth. I did miss you.”
“Enough to help me more with my music?”
A cold spot of dye dripped down the side of my head and onto the towel across my shoulders. “After all, you said five tears.”
My shoulders relaxed. “I’ve only made up for one.”
“I know.”
“Tomorrow.” I licked my lips and tried to keep the next smile in but it was impossible. “Tear number two.”
“I have class all day, then I’m at the Home tomorrow.”
“Weird, me too.”
She laughed and grabbed my head. “Stop leaning forward or we’re going to end up dying your eyebrows too.”
“Fine, fine.”
She worked in silence and I was happy watching her legs…
“Okay.” She set everything down on the counter then sat on the floor facing me. “Tell me one true thing.”
My eyebrows shot up in surprise. I swallowed and answered. “I hate dying my hair.”
It was her turn to look surprised.
“Then why go to all the trouble? And don’t spout crap about gray hair. I saw no gray hair, and you’re not the type of guy to turn down any female, cougar or otherwise…”
“Ouch.” I laughed.
Her eyes narrowed. Oh, I loved those eyes. They changed colors when she was angry. Hot. So damn hot.
“It’s a necessary evil.”
“Because.”
“You said one true thing.”
“This is part of the true thing.”
“Nope. I told you one true thing. I hate dying my hair.”
She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.
I looked away, focusing on the bar of soap in the corner of the bathtub and the slow drip of water coming out of the leaky faucet. “Light hair was the old me — too recognizable. And that’s as close to the truth as I’ve told anyone.”
Saylor’s lips pressed together, causing her cheeks to tighten just a bit, which also caused her neck muscles to strain. Man, every inch of her was perfect. I wanted to touch every part of her. I’ve never seen a girl look so sexy without trying.
She was in skinny jeans and a black t-shirt for shit’s sake, and it was a tie between wanting to strip her first and lick her later or lick her first then strip her later.
“Thank you,” she finally said, getting up off the floor and checking my hair with her fingers.
“Not so fast,” I murmured, grabbing a hold of her waist. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me one true thing.”
My fingers dug into her skin, her breath caught.
“I think you’d be hotter as a blond.”
I released her and burst out laughing. The sound of it echoed around the bathroom walls like a damn ping-pong ball. “Honey, you have no idea how true that is. No. Freaking. Clue.”
She swatted me with a towel, and just like that—
I was back to being obsessed.
Back to trying to figure out possible scenarios where the endgame wasn’t me packing up and leaving.
But keeping her all for myself.
Except — I had a nagging suspicion that if she ever found out who I really was, the normalcy of our relationship would take a nosedive and head straight for the pit of hell.
Chapter Thirty
The hardest thing I’ve ever done is watch my family suffer through my illness, knowing there was nothing I could do to comfort them… until I saw the look on Gabe’s face when she came into the room. And then, like watching the saddest part of a movie, I saw their story unfold. And the ending? I closed my eyes. I couldn’t watch. Because I hated those types of stories — ones that gave you no hope but left you empty — and searching. —Wes M.
Saylor
I pulled into the parking lot and hurried out of my car. An accident on the freeway had made traffic complete insanity. Clenching my keys in my hand and some sheet music in the other, I ran toward the doors. Two men, big enough to cause serious damage to any action star, blocked my way. My eyes fell to two huge guns. Had there been a break-in or something?
One of them held up his hand, stopping me in my tracks.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Um.” I looked around them. “I’m one of the volunteers from UW.”
The one picked up a clipboard. “Name.”
“S-saylor.”
“Last name?”
I froze, literally forgetting my last name, then one of them pointed at something on the clipboard and nodded.
“Go on in.” They moved to the side and let me pass. I pulled my cell phone from my back pocket for them to hold at the front desk, and completed my usual sign in.
Once everything was said and done I was fifteen minutes late.
I ran through the doors and nearly collided with Gabe.
He gripped my shoulders and steadied me. “You’re late.”
“I know,” I huffed. “Traffic was horrible, and then two huge guys stopped me outside the building. Did something happen? Why is there more security than normal?” I vaguely remembered the conversation Gabe had on the phone when our kiss happened. I mean, I’d noticed that more security had been added over the past four weeks but two goons in front? Really? Had he said something about more security in front of the building? To be honest, I’d been so shocked about the kiss that his entire conversation fell on deaf ears. Now I wished I could remember it.
Gabe removed his hands and shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe some of the residents are trying to escape.”
“It’s not like we don’t try,” Old Man Peterson grumbled, shuffling up next to us.
Gabe gave the old man a high five and pointed at his retreating form as he used his walker to make his way across the floor. “My point exactly.”
I rolled my eyes and walked by Gabe to the front of the room.
“Sorry I’m late, everyone!”
They quieted down and took their seats.
“Today I thought it would be fun to break out into groups and write our own scales. When you’re done, you can either hum the song to me or you can use your instrument to play the notes. We’re just going to work with the major scale today, so use any four notes you want, but only four. We don’t want to make it too difficult. I have examples on the worksheets — oh, and please make your notes colorful. If you use an F or a G make sure it’s always the same color as the previous F and G. Any questions?”
They never had questions.
Probably because they never actually followed directions, but hey that was fine, at least they were enjoying themselves.
For the next hour, I made my way around the group tables and offered my assistance, but I stayed away from Princess.
Gabe was with her, hovered over the piece of paper while she instructed him on what to do.
Ha, and he thought I was bossy.