Chapter Twenty-One
Jonathan
Doug meets me at the back of the black sedan, pulling my suitcase and guitar out of the trunk. The door to Gabby’s parents house opens as he offers me his hand. “Good luck,” he says. “From what you’ve told me about her dad, I think you’ll need it.”
Gripping his hand firmly, I give him a sardonic smile. “Thanks.” He’s right. I’ll take all the luck and well-wishes I can get for winning over Jon Kane. The fact that we share a name won’t gain me any points with this man.
Doug releases my hand and gives me a nod before climbing back into the car and leaving for the hotel where he’ll be staying while we’re here. No one was comfortable with me going to Spokane without security at the end of October. Except me, apparently. Even though I kept a low profile and no one knew I was there, Doug gets itchy when he’s not at least in the same city. So the next time I visited Gabby, he came along, staying in his own room two floors down.
And he’s here in Denton with me for Christmas. I tried to tell him he should take time off, go be with his family. But everyone from the tour manager to Blaine, the head of security, to Angela, even my little brother, insisted that someone from the security team needed to be in town. The compromise is that Doug’s family is joining him, and I’m upgrading him to a nice suite while he’s here babysitting me. Especially since I don’t plan on needing his services.
Turning toward the house as Doug pulls away, I see Gabby standing in the doorway, arms crossed against the chill in the air, a wide smile on her face as she waits.
An answering smile stretches across my own face, and only the fact that I have a suitcase and guitar weighing me down keeps me from breaking into a run to get from the street to where she stands in the front door.
She has no such hindrance, and once I start up the walkway, she runs out of the house in just her socks to meet me. I stop midway up the path so I can set down my guitar and catch her when she launches herself at me. My arms wrap around her, my lips find hers, and I’m lost in her, the world falling away.
A catcall sounds from the doorway, making Gabby pull back, a pink blush tinting her cheeks. I look past her as I let her slide back to the ground to see Marissa grinning at us from the doorway.
Picking up my guitar again, I follow Gabby into her house. As soon as I’m inside the door, Marissa greets me with a hug. Someone takes the guitar out of my hand so I can return her embrace, which is surprisingly tight and welcoming. “It’s good to see you again,” she says as she releases me.
“Good to see you, too.” I look up from Marissa to see Lance standing behind her, and with all three siblings this close together, the resemblance is unmistakable. The same dark hair, same even brows, same dark eyes.
Lance is the tallest, about the same height as me, and he holds out a hand, a smile tipping the corners of his mouth. “Welcome to Texas.”
“Thanks. Glad to be here.”
Abby peeks out from behind him and gives a little wave. “Hey. Glad you could make it.”
I give her a smile in return. “Thanks. Me too.” The welcome party of familiar faces relaxes some of the nerves that have been plaguing me since I boarded the plane to get here. But then the moment of truth comes.
A woman about the same height as Gabby steps between Abby and Marissa, her dark bob streaked with gray. Warm brown eyes meet mine, and a smile curves her lips. “You must be Jonathan.”
“I am.” I give her my best smile. “You must be Elizabeth.”
“It’s so nice to meet you in person at last.” She reaches a hand up to my face, and I bend to hug her, pleased at her warm welcome. She’s been nice to me the handful of times we’ve spoken on the phone, but given that I’m the one taking Gabby away from her family after Christmas, I wasn’t sure how I’d be received. Turns out my worries were unfounded. At least as far as Elizabeth is concerned.
When I straighten, my eyes clash with the steely blue gaze of Gabby’s father. He stands behind the rest, aloof, surveying everyone greeting me, hugging me, making me feel welcome. His face is a neutral mask, but the look in his eyes is anything but happy I’m here.
I swallow, retrieving my things, and give him a nod. “Mr. Kane. Nice to see you.”
He nods back, but doesn’t say anything. Elizabeth purses her lips when she looks his way, but his eyes never leave me. Turning back to me, Elizabeth pats my arm. “Gabby will show you where you’re staying while you’re here so you can get settled. Dinner will be ready in about half an hour. I hope you like steak.”
With another smile, I nod. “Thank you. That sounds delicious.”
Gabby leads the way through the living room to a set of stairs near the kitchen.
A deep voice cuts through the quiet that’s descended after the initial greetings are out of the way. “Lance can help you with your suitcase if you need it.”
I glance over my shoulder at Gabby’s dad. “Thanks. I got it.” And with that, I push the telescoping handle down and pick up the suitcase to haul up the stairs.
Gabby’s biting her lip when she looks down at me, then past me to her dad, her eyes dancing. She doesn’t say anything until we’re up the stairs and down the hall. “That was perfect,” she whispers as she pushes open a door.
“What was perfect?” I ask, setting my guitar case down at the foot of the bed and surveying the room. The bedspread is white, with a trim of eyelet lace and a matching dust ruffle. The room is not just feminine, but downright girlish, with the lamp on the white nightstand adorned with a fluffy pink lampshade. Pink and white is the theme of the room. There’s a board with ribbons crisscrossing it that holds pictures, tickets, and notes. This is obviously Gabby’s childhood bedroom.
“Carrying your suitcase upstairs like that.” Gabby’s answer to my question pulls my attention from her room. “Him offering to have Lance carry your bag was a test. That you passed. So that was perfect.”
My lips curve into a small smile. “Like I would let your brother take my suitcase. I’m perfectly capable of dragging my own bag up a set of stairs.”
She moves closer to me, her arms sliding up my chest as my hands find her hips. “I know. Which is why it was perfect. But my dad thinks you’re some spoiled pretty boy who doesn’t know the value of a hard day’s work or something like that.” She waves a hand, dismissing the words that set my stomach churning. Her dad thinks I’m what now?
But she continues. “So carrying your own bag as well as your case is a point in your favor. It means you don’t expect to be catered to.” Her eyes meet mine, and her gaze is serious and direct. “He’ll probably invite you to go see his shop and quiz you on your knowledge of cars. Lance is planning on going with you for that. He’ll help you out as much as he can. But don’t sweat it if you don’t know the answers to his questions. He’ll try to make you feel dumb or inadequate for not knowing things, but I don’t give a crap if you can fix a car or not. So don’t feel bad if it seems like you’re failing that test. You’ve already won my mother over for the most part, and she’ll bring dad around eventually.”
My smile’s more crooked now. “For the most part? I thought your mom was on our side.”
“Yeah, well …” She trails off, her eyes focusing on where her hands stroke my chest. “She wasn’t super thrilled about me only being here for two weeks instead of the whole break.” Her eyes find mine again. “But I didn’t give them the opportunity to disagree. I informed them I’d be going with you, and since I wasn’t asking for them to pay for the trip, I didn’t feel the need to ask permission.” One corner of her mouth turns up. “I think they’re worried I might drop out of school, so they didn’t threaten to cut me off or anything. Although I think Dad was about to.”
“Gabby—“
She shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it. The point of you being here is for them to get to know you. Dad likes to run everyone through the gauntlet, as it were. Don’t let him get to you. Don’t show weakness.”
“Should I never turn my back on him either?”
“Something like that.” She gives me a full smile now, then presses up on her toes for a quick kiss before stepping out of my arms.
I turn to look around the room again, infusing my voice with a mixture of hurt and disappointment. “I thought you said you had posters of me plastered all over your room.”
She laughs and pulls my suitcase over to her bed, dragging it up and unzipping it. “That was in middle school. I changed things up some as I got older. Not the color scheme—when I asked for a different bedding set, this was what my mom got. I guess it’s better than the Barbie pink one I had before, but … I’m the baby. And they never let me forget it. At least I had control of what went on the walls.”
The posters on her walls now are all violin themed—a Stradivarius and a female violinist take up one wall—that one’s signed—and concert posters from her high school and local symphonies hang on the others. It’s clear what her focus has been on for the last several years of her life. Until me.
“I made some room in my dresser for you. And you can hang up what you want in the closet so you don’t have to live out of your suitcase the whole time you’re here.”
I turn back to where she’s standing next to my suitcase, and move to take her up on her suggestions. “Thanks. That’ll be a nice change of pace. I’m not sure I’ve fully unpacked in the last few weeks other than to do laundry and repack.”
“Well, make yourself at home while you’re here.”
I stop on the way to her dresser with hands full of boxers and hook an arm around her waist. “Thank you.” I brush a kiss over her lips that’s supposed to be quick, but when she presses herself into me, I can’t help taking advantage of the moment. Letting the clothes fall from my hands, I line our bodies up, pulling her tightly against me so I can kiss her the way I want to, the way I’ve been dying to since she ran out to meet me. Her tongue darts out to slide across my lips, and I open to meet her, welcoming her into my mouth before pushing my way into hers. Her hands slide behind my neck, clutching at my hair, her hips rocking into mine. She’s as hungry for me as I am for her.
I press my hips into her, grinding myself into her soft belly, trying to figure out how much time is left of that half hour Gabby’s mom said we had before dinner. Because it’s been over two weeks since I visited her last before finals week. And I miss feeling her body against mine.
The knock on the door answers the question before I can ask it. Breaking the kiss, I press my forehead to Gabby’s as I try to catch my breath.
“Yeah?” Gabby’s voice comes out as breathless as I feel.
The door opens a crack and a strawberry blond head peaks around. “Uh, hey. I got nominated to let you know dinner’s ready.” Abby’s blue eyes are crinkled at the corners, and I know she’s smiling even though her mouth is behind the door, like she’s afraid to do more than peek in the room.
Gabby presses her lips together like she’s deciding what exactly to say. She finally settles on, “Thanks. Jonathan’s just getting unpacked. We’ll be down in a few.”
Her gaze flicking back and forth between us, Abby says, “Unpacking. Right. I’ll let them know.” And I swear I hear her say, “I’ll have to submit that definition of ‘unpacking’ to Urban Dictionary later,” as she pulls the door closed.
Gabby must’ve heard her too, because she bursts out laughing, and I join her, still clutching her body to mine. After she regains control of herself, she steps back, her eyes flicking down to my crotch. “You probably should take a few minutes to, uh, unpack or something. Maybe think about dead puppies.” She waves a hand at the bulge in my jeans. “Because I don’t think you want to come to dinner looking like that.”
Cheeks pink with suppressed laughter, she presses another kiss to my lips. “I’ll wait for you at the top of the stairs.” And she leaves the room, running her fingers through her hair to tame the places I’ve mussed it, then twisting it together and pulling it over her shoulder.
Picking up the things I dropped on the floor, I force myself to think about the conversation I had with my mom yesterday. Colt convinced me to talk to her. I kept it short, reassuring her I was doing well, my voice was in good shape, the tour was going great. When she asked about Gabby, I ended the call. I wasn’t willing to go there with her yet, even if she’s changed her mind. Which I’m not convinced she has, no matter what Colt says.
That does the trick. And has the side effect of reminding me that Gabby’s parents aren’t the only ones who haven’t given their wholehearted approval to our relationship.
Fortunately for us, our willingness to be together isn’t contingent on anyone else’s opinion. It’d be nice if our families were supportive, but if a long-distance relationship isn’t enough to break us apart, lack of parental approval sure as hell isn’t going to.