My Heart's Bliss (Hard Love & Dark Rock #3) by Ashley Grace Read Free Book Online Page B

shoulder, her fingers tracing over a tattoo on my chest.
    "I still don't know what to say," she murmured.
    "You don't have to say anything, Anne."  I kissed her forehead gently, stroking my hand through her hair.  "You don't have to say anything.  I just wanted to tell you.  I wanted to say it aloud.  And not just for you, but for me, too."
    The thought of Lucy came into my mind, the memory of her lifeless body beside me in my bed.  For a year, I'd been tortured by that memory, haunted by it.  I thought that a part of me had died when I saw her like that.
    And maybe a part of me had died.  But now I knew, finally, that the part of me that loved was still alive.
    I pulled in a deep breath, feeling Anne's fingers stroking against my chest.  I blew the breath out.  And as my chest fell, as my lungs let go of that air, I felt as if some long-harbored hurt was flowing out of me, too.
    I could live, and I could love.
    I was free.
    -
    Anne drifted off, her head on my shoulder, her hand on my chest.  I let my eyes roam around the room as she slept, learning about her by reading my surroundings.  A bookshelf at the foot of the bed was filled with battered paperbacks—Sylvia Plath, Diane di Prima, Anne Sexton—and a stack of journals with dates written on the spine.  Her desk was piled high with school books and papers, a calendar hanging on the wall had notes written in on nearly every day, weekends included.  A framed picture of Anne arm-in-arm with a woman who looked much like her—her mother, perhaps—was on her nightstand, as well as a red-numbered digital clock.
    The clock said 1:17 p.m.  I had to be back at the hotel by three in order to ride with the band to the airport.  Bernstein was probably already freaking out.
    Just before 1:30, she roused, her head wobbling slightly as she pushed herself up on her elbow.
    "I fell asleep," she said.
    I nodded.  "Just for a little while."
    She glanced over at the clock, and then sat up quickly.
    "You have to catch a flight to L.A. today?" she said.
    "I do.  Bernstein's got interviews scheduled for this evening, and a show at The Snake Pit tomorrow night.  I've got to get going soon."
    Her face fell, her mouth going small.  "Oh."
    I reached up for her, brushing a lock of hair back from her face.  "You could come with me.  It's a chartered flight.  There'd be room for one more."
    Her eyes got big, her mouth even smaller.
    "When you asked me to come with you, last night," she said, "I wasn't sure that you meant it."
    "I don't say things I don't mean," I said.  "I'd like you to come.  I really would."
    Her eyes dropped to my chest, and then glanced at the crowded calendar on her wall.
    She shook her head no.  I felt a little ache in my heart at that.
    "I wish… I wish I could," she said.  "But I can't."
    And then those beautiful eyes started to shine, tears filling them.
    I sat up quickly, pulling her into my arms, my hands caressing her back.  I heard her breath shuddering.
    "Don't cry, Anne.  It hurts me to see it."
    She wiped her face, turning away.  She reached for her clothes and started to dress.
    Following her lead, I reached for mine.  When I'd finished tying my boots, I stood up and went to her desk.  I pulled a sheet of paper out of her printer, folded it in half, and started to write on it.
    I turned back to her.  She was sitting on the bed, fully dressed, her hands folded in her lap, her head bowed.
    "This is my contact info, my phone number and my email," I said, holding up the paper.  "I'll keep my phone on me.  I normally don't, but I will.  And I'll make sure to check my email, too."
    I put the paper on top of a stack of books on the desk.  Her eyes were watching her hands.  She was pulling away from me again.
    "I would love to see you again, Anne," I said.  "The thought of not seeing you…"  I felt my throat go tight, my eyes starting to sting.  I shook my head and took a breath.  No need to make it worse.
    "But I'm going to leave