Page 45 of More Than Scars
“Dude, it was inevitable.” Tony shook his head. “There’s no way to never not play in Oregon again. They’ve got a great grunge and metal scene. You know that firsthand.”
“True. Did he say what venues or cities?” Bowie asked.
I pulled my phone out and reread the message. “The Star Theater in Portland and WOW Hall in Eugene. I’ve never been to either, have you guys?”
“Um, yeah, but as an audience member. Tony and I are from Eugene.”
Had they told me that, and I missed it? “Sorry, I thought you were from Portland since that’s where we moved you both from.”
“Nah. We had enough of Eugene. Fresh start and all that.” Tony didn’t elaborate any further, but I guessed it had something to do with Bowie’s accident.
We finished eating, and I took the dishes inside while they got back to writing. Emails waited to be answered, and I had plenty to keep me busy until it was time to leave.
“Knock, knock,” Bowie said as he knocked on the office door. “What time do we have to leave?”
I glanced down at my watch. “In an hour. Guess the day got away from me.”
“Got time to shower with me?”
I’d never logged off so fast in my life. “I’ll never say no to that offer. Lead the way.”
Beneath the warm spray, Bowie finally relaxed. “This feels good.” I took a chance and filled my palm with shampoo and began massaging his scalp. His moans had my cock perking up, but now wasn’t the time for play.
“Trust me when I say it’s gonna be fine. Hell, you’ll probably be the new favorite son after today.” He snickered. “My mom’s a great cook, and my dad has this natural calmness that obviously skipped me.”
“So not true. You are always calm, even when I’m not. You and Tony are about the only two people in the world that have the ability to keep me from getting all riled up. I’ve spent so much time on the defensive that I forgot what it was like not to be. Definitely uses fewer muscles not being so pent up.”
I pressed my lips to the big scar on his shoulder. “Glad I could assist in some way.”
Bowie turned in my arms and wrapped his around my neck. “You assist in more ways than you know. I’m sorry I’ve kept so much from you, but trust doesn’t come easily for me.”
Glad I’d practiced patience with Bowie. I knew there was more to his story, and in time he’d tell me. “It’s a challenge for many, and one thing I learned is trust is earned, not given. Bowie, you’re worth the wait.”
Heated kisses were inevitable between us, but time wasn’t on our side right now. “Sorry, my love, but we have to end this here in order to get to Woodinville in time.” One last kiss before we scrubbed up, dried, and got dressed.
Bowie was far too quiet during the drive there. “Woodinville was where I grew up but sadly is too far out of my price range. There are a ton of wineries and distilleries here. Makes for a great Sunday afternoon visiting them.”
“With a designated driver on speed dial, I’d imagine.”
“Too right you are, good sir.” But at least he was talking now. “Maybe a Sunday date one weekend if you’re up for it.”
“I’m down for it,” Bowie laughed. “Up, down. Isn’t it funny how words that mean two completely different things in the literal context yet for which we just used them they mean the same.”
“Very odd indeed.” And something I’d never considered before. Huh, food for thought. “Well, it looks like Twila is here too.”
“Twila?”
“My younger sister. She’s a handful, and here she comes.” The blonde-headed Tasmanian Devil herself came barreling out the front door. “She will jump in if we don’t get out.” I loved my sister, but she was a lot of energy wrapped up in a tiny five-foot package. “Come on.”
I’d barely shut the truck door before she ran straight for me. Thankfully, I’d played this game a thousand times and caught her midair.
“Pressley!” she squealed. “You never come over anymore.”
“Girl, you’re never here. You’re always on campus. Come meet Bowie.” We walked around the truck to where he nervously stood. “Bowie, this is my younger sister Twila. Twila, my boyfriend Bowie.”
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. He’s so hot, Pressley.” Yeah, not sure that shade of red on Bowie’s face was healthy. “Pressley sent us videos of you playing. You’re so badass.”
“Language, young lady,” Mom scolded with a smile. “You may be in college, but you’re still my little girl.” Twila rolled her eyes. “Your eyes will get stuck like that someday.”