Page 77 of Beyond the Stix

The silence between us is a beat too long, and I back away from him. “Is it always going to be a push and pull between us, John? Can you just say what you’re thinking, because I’m tired of guessing.”

He reaches out a hand. “Come here.”

I hesitate before twining my fingers with his and awkwardly take the spot next to him.

“Why stay there, when I can be with you,” he confesses, a small smile on his face. “I love you, Connor. There’s no other place I’d rather be.”

I suck in a breath, surprised by his admission. “Really?” Warmth fuse my chest, and my eyes are tingling from unshed tears.

“Yes,” he says evenly.

I don’t know what to say to John’s confession, other than, “I love you, too.” I turn my head to kiss my guy when John’s phone rings. I glance down and see that it’s Dean.

“Bad timing,” he says as he answers the call.

A week after John’s fall, he and I met with Dean Harper and the detective that has been leading the investigation of my uncle. They updated us on what they had found in all of Jessup’s homes. In total, tens of thousands of pictures of me. And like John had said that night, the photos—digitally and otherwise, are from my infancy to about a month ago.

They also found just as many log books, detailing my activities, the times of day for each one, and other specifics that creeped me out. Like the reason why he bought homes in San Francisco, New York City, and Las Vegas. It’s because I mentioned those places at one time or another and talked about moving there.

My mother was with me the entire time, and it horrified her to learn how closely Jessup had been watching me. She feels guilty for it, too, since she had knowledge of Jessup and his diagnosis of obsessive love disorder.

When John first told me, I thought it was a joke, sounding too ridiculous to be true. But when I looked up the diagnosis, everything Dean and the cop had explained fit.

What caps this whole situation even more fucked up, is that Jessup left all of his properties to me. Once the deeds are transferred to my name, I will sell the houses and donate the money to charity. I don’t want any reminders of Jessup.

“What are you thinking about?” John caresses my jawline—not realizing he was off the phone.

“I’m thinking about when you get all healed up and this tour is over, I’m going to take you on a vacation. And then, we can sit down and really talk about stuff,” I say with a single raised brow.

“Okay, I know your avoidance tactics. But that sounds like a fantastic plan,” John smiles, before he grips the back of my neck and tugs me in for a kiss. “Now, kiss me good before you go play with your friends.”

“Hah, I get it now. All you want is my body,” I huff out, pulling back slightly.

“That too,” he says before kissing me thoroughly.

“Enough of that shit. We have a concert to play at,” Callum says from the threshold. “Danny, are you ready?” He pounds on the other bedroom door.

“What’s wrong with Callum?” John whispers in my ear.

“I don’t know, but ever since he came back from Boulder, he’s been a fucking bear. And that’s not like him,” I admit, staring at my friend. He looks worn out.

“Keep your pants on, Callum. Geez, what’s crawled up your craw?” Danny shouts, as he and Tobias appear next to Callum. Danny then sticks his head in. “Are you ready, Wildman?”

“As ready as I will ever be.” I kiss John once more, then stand, grabbing the sticks from my bag.

“Go beyond the stix, Wildman,” John says with a grin that fills my heart.

“I will.”

Until Next Time