Page 43 of Tone Deaf
One is a lesson, a fear to love.
One is of peace, a breath from above.
But I’ve no need of a spotlight, just need to be me.
The kind of love that sets my spirit free.
Three kinds of love built on passion’s fire.
Three kinds of temptation—lust, craving, desire.
Unsteady ground I walk upon, learning life is a hardball
Misery is my company, moving blindly through it all.
One is a storm, one’s a steady sea.
They shake my world, and set me free.
Three kinds of love built on passion’s fire.
Three kinds of temptation—hope, respect, inspire.
I slowly lean back against the loveseat, the guitar laying gently on my lap and my head filled with emotion as my eyes rove over the exposed ceiling beams. Brian’s nasty barbs about me playing bass and about my friends haven’t stopped me from making music. Even through the pain, nothing stops the flow. With that thought, a smile crests my face as I close the notebook. I can’t wait until my mates see this one.
As the words I’ve just written pour over me like liquid truth, I realize that I can’t let fear dictate my life, especially where my heart is concerned. It’s up to me to make the final decision on if I want these two men in my life. Want to form a relationship with them. Forge a bond similar to what I’ve seen Danny and Connor form with their men.
Truth is, no matter how much I have distance myself from them, Dom and Pen have never stopped treating me with respect. With that revelation, for the first time, I can breathe. There’s a lightness in my chest and the heavy weight is gone.
They are nothing like Brian.And that thought shocks the hell out of me. Had that worry been percolating in my subconscious this whole time?
A noise from the door drop-kicks me out of my happy stupor. Pen walks in, a grim look across his face. I straighten; alarm shoots through me. “What’s wrong?”
His head darts up, and it’s obvious that he’s surprised to see me. “Nothing’s wrong.” He frowns. “It’s late. Why are you up?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” I admit sheepishly. “So I came out here to play and hopefully get inspiration.”
“Did you?”
“Did I what?” I meet his eyes, which still have a hint of ire in their green depths.
He shakes his head and smiles. “Did you get inspired?”
“Yes,” I say with a chuckle, then quickly sober. “Now tell me the truth. Why do you look upset?”
“It’s nothing. Dom just—he’s just frustrating sometimes… But don’t worry about it.”
I slowly get up from the loveseat and place the guitar in its stand. Pen reaches me in three long strides and I gently grip his hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I’m only an inch shorter than Pen, so we’re almost eye to eye. As he stares into my eyes, a softness creeps across his face. “I promise you, Callum, I’m good.” He leans in and kisses my nose.
That little gesture is what I love about Pen Gallagher. Looking at the muscular bodyguard, one would never guess that he’s such a cinnamon roll—always thinking of others. But now he’s gifted me that sweet kiss, and when a whiff of his brown sugar body wash is added to my sensory load, I’m suddenly craving his lips, and an actual cinnamon roll.
I smile huge at the image in my head. Pen laying naked on the bed with the bakery confection smeared across his body. And me, licking it up.
“What are you thinking about? Your face turned five shades of red,” Pen says with a smirk. “And that’s added to your blues, yellows, and greens.”
No! Jesus. “Nothing.” I feel my cheeks heat up even more.