I wake with the delicious weight of Gavin draped across me—from each warm exhale on the back of my neck to the arm that’s wrapped around me to the legs twined around mine. He even has my foot tucked between his, like he’s holding on to me for dear life. And maybe he is.

Maybe he’s wondering how the hell we’re going to make this thing work. Just like I am.

I want this every day. To start my days, end my nights, and to steal precious little moments with this man throughout the day.

I’m scared, petrified, that everything we talked about last night is nothing more than words spoken in the heat of passion. Declarations of feelings that have no root in reality, no way to make those dreams come true.

“Hey,” Gavin rasps, his voice gravelly from sleep. “I can feel you think, G. It’s damn early for that kind of thing. What’s going on in there?” He shifts slightly, placing a kiss on my temple and rolling so that we’re face-to-face.

“Is this really real?”

Staring at me through half-lidded eyes, hair a wild, rumpled mess, he asks, “Is what real?”

“This.”

“Us? Together, doing this?” he asks, his focus bouncing back and forth between my eyes, searching. “There’s nothing more real than you and me, right here. Now and always.”

His fingers graze my cheek as he pushes my hair back from my face. The heavy warmth of his palm cupping the back of my head is soothing, reassuring in the way I so desperately need.

“It’s time though. I hung some questions out there last night that never got answered.” Gavin shifts his hand and slides his thumb down my lips, the callus catching slightly on the lower one. “Who’s gonna do the ass-kicking? You or life? You ready to make your dreams come true? Take the opportunities that are there, waiting for you, and make good things happen or wonder, What if? You’ve found your purpose, Gracyn. Now, it’s time to make that shit happen.”

The faith he has in me, all this encouragement to follow my dream and take the path I choose as opposed to the safe one, is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. My heart is pounding against my ribs, trying to beat its way out of the too-small space. My silence stretches out, filling the void between us, sucking me into a vortex of self-doubt.

“I’m scared,” I finally admit.

“Of?”

Part of me wants to escape, just run away again and avoid my truth. I close my eyes, shutting Gavin out, while I reach deep within myself and find the bravery to stay and face this, work through this.

“Gracyn, what are you scared of?”

Deep breath in, and as I let it out, I whisper, “I’m scared of failing. What if I can’t do this?”

I don’t know what I expected to see when I opened my eyes, but the incredulous smile that lights up his face is not it.

“Fail? At what?” He chuckles lightly. “You’re the biggest badass. You have to know that, right? You want this—the business model you were talking about last night? Then, you’re gonna rock it. There is nothing holding you back, except you.”

He’s right. I know that he’s right. I can work at McBride’s until it all comes together for me. And, God willing, when my client list is big enough, Francie will have another poor rescue case to take my place. The last issue making my palms sweat, my chest heavy, is Gavin.

“What about you? Are you really able to move here or …”

“Oh, babe, I can be wherever I want to be. Ian and Nate are East Coast guys, and Kane, he’ll figure his shit out. LA, New York—hell, he could end up in the middle of the country for all I know. But the band will be fine.” He rolls us, so he’s braced above me on his elbows, hands framing my face. “I need to find a place to live, grab my stuff from LA, and let everyone know I’m going to stay here. That’s it. I don’t want to be anywhere else but here with you.” He searches my features, waiting for some signal.

Running my hands up his back, I bite my lip and nod slowly. “Okay. Okay, that works.”

“Thank God, woman. I thought we’d be fighting about this all morning,” he says, leaning in and kissing me, soothing my gnawed lip. “Sealed with a kiss,” he murmurs, ghosting kisses down the column of my neck, his tongue trailing along my collarbone to the dip of my throat. Humming against my skin, Gavin asks, “So, you want to help me find a place to live? Maybe something you’ll like enough to want to leave your roommate? Kate, right? That’s her name?”

“Let’s not talk about Kate right now.” I shift, making room for him to settle between my thighs, and wrap my legs around his. “And, later, we can house-hunt.” I pull Gavin in, hips thrusting, and slide against him until his cock fills me.

We’ve wasted most of the day, and I have to scramble to make it to McBride’s on time.

I follow Gracyn through the back door into the Irish pub and almost walk right into her when she pulls up short, gasping, “Jesus, Finn, are you okay?”

The guy is leaning forward, staring hard at the laptop in front of him on the old desk. The thing looks like it’s seen some things in life, the dark wood scarred in places from use, but the faint scent of lemon oil and the shine on the visible surface show it’s well cared for.

Finn, on the other hand, has both of his hands raking through his red hair, panic written clearly across his face. “Fuck’s sake, I don’t know,” he says, his brogue making it sound more like a question than a statement. “Francie’s not booked a band for St. Patrick’s Day, and there’s none available now. He’s never forgotten to book the entertainment.”

He lifts his head, eyes pleading with Gracyn to fix this egregious oversight.

I move further into the room, pull the door shut behind me, and lean against the thing, closing out the cold. “What’s the big deal? So, there’s no music. Don’t people just get wasted anyway? Do they actually pay attention to that?”

Two sets of seriously offended eyes pin me with ball-shriveling glares.

Gracyn shakes her head, truly stunned. “This is Francie’s favorite holiday. He’s never forgotten, not ever. Oh my God, Finn, what is he going to do when he comes in, and there’s no music?” Her boots create a staccato beat as she paces across the small office, twisting her hair into a sloppy braid. “What do you think’s going on with him?”

Finn’s forehead wrinkles as his brows pinch together. “I don’t know, but he’s been slipping lately, yeah? It’s not just me who’s noticed? Christ, he’ll be devastated.”

Their concern for the bar owner runs deep. The man obviously means the world to them.

“When is St Patrick’s Day?” I ask.

Again, both gazes glare at me like I’ve committed a national offense. Laughing, I put my hands up, palms out, to ward off whatever attacks might be headed my way.

“I’ve been on tour and fucking around Europe. I legit have no idea what day it is today.”

“Two weeks. It’s two weeks away, and seriously, there is not a damn thing we can do at this point.” Gracyn sighs. “Wait, did you try that guy from a couple of years ago? The one with the three-legged dog named Eileen?” she asks Finn hopefully.

“Christ, that guy was terrible, and his dog was an arse. And, yeah, I checked, but he’s full up. We’re fucked, Gracyn. There’s no one to play.” The guy slumps back, his chair creaking when his frame hits the back of it.

It’s like a funeral in here with all the sour faces and sadness.

And, because I’m a sucker—and I will fucking move mountains for Gracyn—I pop my mouth open and toss out, “I can do it.”

“That’s sweet, Gavin, but we need Irish music—traditional Irish music—”

“I can do it.” I turn to Finn and say, “Give me a set list and the lyrics if you have them, and I’ll play for you. Just me, my acoustic, and … maybe no big publicity that it’s me?”

“For real?” Gracyn asks, turning into me, hands resting on my pecs, her thumbs mindlessly playing with my piercings.

I bite my lip and nod, doing my best to push down the effect her toying fingers are having on me.

“Done,” says Finn, shaking his head, smiling. “The Gavin Keller’s playing in McBride’s for St. Patrick’s Day.”